Wellesley College Undergraduate College Application Essays

The sweltering heat of the Middle Eastern sun would wrap its parched tongue around my heavily shrouded body. The afternoon could have been cooked on an open flame, leaving behind charred individuals busily going about their business. Despite such...

I could not understand. There was no sign of trash on the streets. There was no trace of graffiti on the benches or walls. Everything was impeccably clean and simple in the middle of Stockholm, Sweden, with its 780,000 inhabitants. It is still a...

The alarm clock rang furiously at six-thirty in the morning. Impatiently turning it off, I realized I had a horrible stomachache. The women's choir had been preparing for weeks on end for this concert at Wellesley College and there was no way I...

A year and a day’s journey lay ahead of every fabled knight in search of the ever elusive Holy Grail, and if said knight was deemed worthy to find it, exhaustion would cause him to sleep at the feet of the Grail without ever truly seeing it. And...

When I was first compiling my college list, I was resistant to the idea of including Wellesley. I was in the group of people who didn’t like the idea of college eithout y-chromosomes. For me, it wasn’t a social issue; I can have fun with whoever...

One hundred sixty-two days ago I was counting the days I had left to live. “Impression: Large right ovarian mass with cystic appearance periphery and solid tumor in the center…” I trembled as I heard every word of the MRI report that my mom had...

“Dinner is ready!” Every Sunday a member of our family takes a turn choosing what we’re having for dinner, and today was my turn. My mother had prepared all of my favorite food, from foie gras to sea urchin sushi to satay. As we began eating, my...

After riding my bicycle around campus to start off the morning, I return to Cazenova Hall to prepare for the day. I leave my dorm and make my way to the Lulu to meet a couple of my friends for breakfast. We met when we were only freshmen at...

Our Socratic reading group is the ultimate unconventional cult, nine curious high schoolers and a college professor gathering every weekend to discuss the practicality of anarchy, the life of the mind, and the cosmological divine. Here, I learned...

This is the balcony that extends into infinite dimensions. Inside: paintings and the smell of dusk. Lined against the tiled walls are canvases both void and filled. A soft light overhead. There is something extremely calming about occupying this...

The sunlight collapses lazily against the windows of our tall, stately house today, yet the gracefully arching pathways and crisp white paint job hold steadfast against the lackluster attack. To some it may be a palace, while others see only a...

I cannon-balled into reading in first grade and have not emerged to catch my breath yet. Reading is the medium through which I grow. Books have swept me light years and alternate realties away, but have always returned me with more understanding...

The soft reminder of warm light, the neat rows of novels and biographies and volumes of poetry against mahogany shelves back to back in a literary continuum… I walk further into Barnes and Noble. Swim in circles around the small brown tables in...

“One shark fin soup, please,” he said, avoiding my glare and grinning back at my two brothers, too young to know any better.

I’ve protested, debated, and shared article after article with my dad about the consequences of shark finning, but Chinese...

I looked down at the robot before me. I had spent weeks and weeks programming and building it, putting in countless hours of concentration. Then I looked up at my robotics teacher, excitedly, as he tested it himself — and it worked perfectly. The...

I am helpless against the internal compass that points to familiar elements of my African heritage in unfamiliar settings. Detecting the faint sounds of yoruba along the aisles of Walmart suspends my hunt for groceries until I have found the...

In June of 1982, with the harsh sun beating down on their small, rural city, my mother’s community danced throughout the streets in her honor, making music with makeshift instruments as they moved. The quiet town, on the outskirts of Bishoftu,...

Falling asleep in class is never a good idea, especially when the teacher is your 86-year-old grandfather and the classroom is his bedroom. How did I get roped into giving up my limited, beautiful summer days for a fluorescent monitor and fourteen...