Washington University in St. Louis Undergraduate College Application Essays

It was an ordinary game of floor hockey. My palms were soaked, my skin unbearably itchy. The droplets of sweat were rolling down my back. But I couldn’t pay any attention to that. The offensive player was approaching me with the puck, trying to...

Yellow - one of the primary colors. It is one hue; it is a million hues. Pale yellow, the color of silt in China’s River of Life; saffron yellow, the color of Chinese sovereignty for two millennia; tanned yellow, the tint of my skin.

The first day...

My spacebar popped off of the keyboard for the seventh time that night. I snatched it from the floor and rammed it back in place, knowing that it was a futile effort. Apparently, my laptop was suffering from the tribulations of National Novel...

One of my greatest joys in the world is the feeling of ice crunching under my skates. I love playing ice hockey. It has been a major part of my life since I was seven years old. I started out figure skating, then one day I noticed the kids my age...

“Surrealism is embedded in the everyday, in the daily experience” -- Katharine Conley

It seems fitting for me to transform every moment or thought into a film screened inside my head. Cinema is my life, and guides me beyond my life. I rise from...

Of all the places to experience a pivotal moment in life, a graveyard was mine. After a week of research, my grandmother and I stepped through the old, rusty cemetery gate and were surprised to see the headstone of Moses Short a few feet from the...

My fingers pirouetted up and down the fingerboard, spiraling faster than the notes running through my head. Every white callous and bloody blister had led up to this moment, as I could feel all those hours of repetition, struggle, and stumbling...

There was one playground not too far from my grandparents' apartment in Cairo (the summer home of my childhood) where I wasn't treated like the quirky, abnormal kid that I was used to being. It wasn't your ideal picture of a playground, though....

Whenever I’m taking notes in English, answering questions on a history test, or listening to a class discussion, I doodle flowers. Yes, flowers. You might imagine that a high school senior in AP classes would be too busy absorbing PowerPoint...

I think I was Canadian in a different life. Not because of my love of French, though strong, or my craving for maple syrup, though incessant; no, this Canadian lifestyle manifests itself through a kind of hockey mania. While my friends enjoy...

I refused to leave Sedona, Arizona, home to a "spiritual vortex," without visiting at least one of the city's renowned psychics. Sharing my spirited lust for travel, my mom brought my sisters and me to "Sedona Center for the New Age," where I was...

Standing alone in the empty cemetery, I hear my distraught voice bounce off the headstones. “Why did you leave? I will almost never forgive you.” The cold air settles around me. The tears stain my cheeks, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop. I made a...

"My six year old could do that," a woman behind me remarks. I feel a twinge of irritation, but I don't blame her; a few years ago, I would’ve agreed. To the average eye, Grace Hartigan's work of Abstract Expressionism, The Gallow Ball, appears to...

There he is, clad in his “World’s Biggest Fish Fry” baseball cap, neon orange diabetic footsoles, and multicolored top hat à la Dr. Seuss. Four hundred and twenty pounds, bound to his high-backed leather armchair (driven with tender care all the...

A vivacious and carefree four-year-old, I dropped my paintbrush, splattering globs of blue paint all over my t-shirt and classmates nearby. Immediately, my thin lips transformed into an enormous grin. My grandpa, or as we say in Russian, my ...

I walked on land that was supposed be a stream. I stood with people who were supposed to be ‘animals’. Well, I myself wasn’t really supposed to be there at all, for Makoko, an unrecognized community, is a cradle of crime in Lagos. Swarms of...

The summer before my junior year, I watched my grandparents working on the far side of the lawn, shoveling compost and mounds of grayish soil over freshly seeded patches. It was a strangely perceptive moment: glistening beads of sweat ran over...

I tried to distribute the weight of my body evenly in the soles of my Crocs. My hair was contained in a cap and my mouth was smothered by a cotton mask. Each time I exhaled, the mask filled with the smell of the coffee on my own breath. The...

The circumstances surrounding my family are defined by an absence of choice. At age 11 my abuelita dropped out of school to begin working as a full-time maid, a job she didn’t choose to have but had to have in order to support her family. At age...

My backyard is my studio, and the lush, green grass is my stool.

C.

With one powerful strum, my surroundings come to life: a gust of wind emerges; birds sing in harmony; dandelions dance in unison to my tune, frolicking through the sky. As I sway...

When my great-grandmother was on her deathbed, I heard her speak for the first time. Through her shaking words and glittering gaze, she transported me to her teenage years. Describing living during the era of Rafael Trujillo, a time of harmful,...

Two cars collide. Shattered glass flies everywhere. As much as you want to turn away, you stand transfixed by the chaos. That’s what it was like hearing my friend Sara’s life story.

The first day, it was her emergency room visits for the holes in...

Pfft. Pffffffffft.

Frustrated, I glared at the flute. It stared back at me as if to say, “bring it on.”

I consulted the beginner’s book, the red one that I hated: “Shape your mouth as if saying ‘whee-too,’ place the flute on your chin, and blow a...

This Saturday morning was unlike any other. All of us dressed in lab coats, wearing protective goggles, and holding test tubes in our gloved hands…. it was impossible not to feel like professional researchers (for me, at least). The tranquility of...