College essays that made a difference - Princeton Review 2010

Julie Yau-Yee Tam
The applicants

Julie was a three-time state spelling champion and a two-time state opera bronze medalist. She trained at the nationally renowned Houston Ballet Academy for nine years and finished the pre-professional program. Fluent in English, Spanish, and Mandarin and Cantonese Chinese, Julie attended Chinese language school until she graduated with honors in the twelfth grade. She also held offices in school clubs and community service organizations.

Stats

SAT: 1410 (660 Critical Reading, 750 Math)

SAT Subject Test(s): 740 Math Level 1, 680 Biology, 700 Chinese with Listening, 690 Spanish

High School GPA: 4.31

High School: Second Baptist Upper School, Houston, TX

Hometown: Houston, TX

Gender: Female

Race: Asian American

Applied To

Rice University (early decision)

Essay

The quality of Rice’s academic life and the residential college system is heavily influenced by the unique life experiences and cultural traditions each student brings. What perspective do you feel that you will be able to share with others as a result of your own life experiences and background? Cite a personal experience to illustrate this. Most applicants are able to respond successfully in two to three pages.

Cebu City, Philippines

As I stare into my mirror, I see a face long and tired, worn out by distance, by time, and by too many things happening all too fast. The trip here was not easy. It took 27 hours in flight and airport waits — from Houston to Los Angeles, to Hong Kong, then finally to Cebu City, Philippines.

I was awestruck when my mother and I arrived here Tuesday morning and were taken directly from the airport to the funeral home. As I passed through the doors, I found myself in an atmosphere I had never before experienced. In the Philippines, funeral homes are like hotels. There are living quarters behind the grand hall, which is a large room with a sitting area where visitors can view the casket. Somber guards scrutinized me as I entered the grand hall, where my maternal grandfather, a former Taiwan senator and adviser of Head of State Chiang Kai Shek, lay in state. Although I am Chinese, to them, I looked different, walked differently, and even acted differently. I was different. As I entered the grand hall, I saw the banners, each four characters long and painted in traditional Chinese calligraphy, that extolled my grandfather’s virtues. Flowers of every description, from governmental agencies, banks, schools, churches, and other organizations from all over the country and abroad, lined the walls. Newspaper articles, newsletters, and other notices announced the passing of my grandfather and listed the names of those who had given memorial contributions in his memory.

As I gazed into the casket, which was covered by a piece of glass because my grandfather’s body was to lie there for over a week to be viewed by people from near and far, I saw how his face was hardened like clay. His loving spirit, his vivid smile, and his caring eyes had left his countenance, but not my memory. However, I still felt all these parts of him through the people and institutions he had touched so profoundly. At that moment I also realized how much he would be missed by them.

I slowly drew away from the casket and retired into the living quarters. A few guards carried our luggage into the back room, and several servants were at our attendance. Having someone constantly asking to serve me in any way possible was new for me.

During the next few days, I began to feel the discomfort of being continually in the spotlight, due to the attention I had received because of my grandfather’s passing. Every time I wanted to refill my water bottle, I would have to don formal clothing, put on my uncomfortable high-heeled shoes, and fix my hair perfectly before leaving my room. At one point I took a chance and ran out in my pajamas and slippers. Unfortunately, my aunt saw me and upbraided me, saying that I “must look perfectly proper at all times in the event anyone important arrives.” I found that being thirsty was easier.

Nightly memorial services at the funeral home had begun before our arrival and continued during our visit. On the first evening, my uncle, my aunt, my mother, and I thanked all who had come and received condolences. From both prominent and ordinary, I heard how my grandfather had treated all people with equal consideration. Humility and high office came in the same “package” for him.

We were up early the second morning to go to Cebu Eastern College, where my grandfather was Director for 32 years, for another ceremonial tribute to him. I told the students how my grandfather had inspired me. Because my grandfather was also a lover of music, I sang a song in his honor. Although most of the students had never met my grandfather personally (because he had retired at age 82 and died at age 91), they were definitely affected by his work in improving school facilities, erecting new buildings, increasing student population, and making Cebu Eastern College a premier force in secondary education in the Philippines. Their respect and admiration touched me deeply. At the end of the tribute, every student and faculty member individually offered words of sympathy.

My grandfather was cremated on the day of his state funeral. This morning our family and a few close friends used chopsticks to pick out his bones from the ashes. It hit me that, when I die I will just be, quite frankly, a pile of bones. Therefore, if my physical body is of little importance, then I need to cherish every day because what I contribute to society will be significant. Just as we took Grandpa’s urn through the halls of Cebu Eastern College and the Lieh Fu Chen Building, named in his honor, I want to die knowing that someone will remember me for changing the world positively.

Now as I sit here in front of the mirror in “my” room, getting ready to leave Cebu City for home, I am thinking: Should I be feeling nostalgic for home? Do I miss being at school after a week in a far away land? I cannot say that I want to leave all this behind. Although most of the people here I have never seen or have only seen once or twice, they are almost like family to me. I can relate to them so well because of the language and cultural ties and our common regard for my grandfather. The Chinese, of course, emphasize the importance of family and respect for the elders, so this plays a role too.

I know my grandfather would be so happy to see me carry on his legacy of values. When he named me Yau Yee (), he gave me more than a name. He gave me personality, meaning, and a heritage. I am reminded of my duty every day. My Chinese teacher has always said that I am one of the few who come to learn Chinese willingly — not forced by my parents — and that I have an authentic Chinese accent and realize the importance of learning the language of my ancestors. Reading some of the books my grandfather wrote has truly inspired me to pursue a political career to improve education and humanitarian values.

Now that my grandfather is gone, I will no longer have an immediate need for returning here. However, just as my mother has brought me here and to Taiwan to see the countries my grandfather influenced, I want to bring my children back through the halls my grandfather walked. If my grandchildren admire and remember me as I do my grandfather, then I know I will have continued his legacy, and my life will have been a success.

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