ferpa request: the essays that got me into wharton

If you’ve ever been curious about your educational records, you can always do a FERPA request!

FERPA = Family Educational Rights and Privacy Act; it provides both access and disclosure about educational records.

I wanted to re-read my college essays and was pleased to hear that my alma mater was able to mail my common application to me. below I share the the personal and short essays that helped my admittance to my top choice (if you have any questions about FERPA email dream@divsdoingthings.com):

PERSONAL ESSAY

“They always do this to me. Always taking things away. My parents tore me away from my mystical backyard, replacing it with four blanched walls and three flights of stairs. Reluctantly, I exchanged my life of enchantment for a foreign life with a strange language. We left the beautiful, verdant countryside of the Dominican Republic for the concrete and iron-rusted fences of West New York. I had fallen in love with the black, craggy faces of the countryside and the simple, agrarian lifestyle that took my breath away; and in an instant, my parents stripped me from my home with their flaky excuse: “opportunity.”

Frantically I counted the days until my return, yet at thirteen when I returned to the country with the dancing faces, reality quickly demolished my childhood recollection. The alarming truth of the real Dominican ways of life instantly altered my perception and became a strident red flag. My memories of an island so soulful, so honest, so colorful and so full of life metamorphosed into frustration and despair. Hungry mouths cried for bread. Angry eyes tore at the leather bag I clung to so tightly. Exhausted figures exposed themselves through the shreds of their clothing. And yet nothing addled me more than the eyes I met from a distance, eyes that so keenly resound in my head.

Those piercing eyes belonged to the dark face of a bare, young girl about my age at the time. I gaped at the most disturbing sight of my life. There, stood an adolescent girl completely naked carrying canteens of filthy water, but, like Prelapsarian Eve, did not shiver at her at her nakedness. In disbelief I stared at her developing chest. In disbelief I asked myself if she would ever amount to more than this? In disbelief I wondered if life would have been as cruel to me if “opportunity” had not un-receptively knocked at my door. All of her details terrorized me. Her shattered and scaly skin mirrored the broken and unpaved roads which she walked on for miles, barefoot, dust billowing at every step. Her sad and measured pace enhanced her emaciated body, revealing a scrawny shadow that never reached her. The water that she lugged towards her house from a distant lagoon diminished her. This same mucky water represented resignation to a life of servitude, a servitude that the complications of her life suffused. Her aura reeked of pain, a pain that shared a room with nearly everyone in my beloved country. Anyones could witness from those distant eyes that happiness came rarely and burdens came daily.

Needless to say, my childhood fascination shattered. how could my paradise neglect the caterwauling of its people? More pressing, why have my people gone unnoticed? The houses of my people have dirt floors and rusty roofs; illiteracy steals their voice; and economic destruction chases “opportunity” away. The reality of my culture and the privilege that I have been granted as an American fuels my dedication and determination to strive; not only for myself, but for the needy eyes of a country in economic despair. The task to valiantly lift the veil of paucity lies in my hands. As an able Dominican native I refuse to be satisfied with a futureless country. The imaginary helix which surrounded me as a little girl exploded and shaped a young woman ready to open the doors of “opportunity” for my country, and then the world.

That girl’s eyes that moved me so deeply will one day be liberated. They themselves will climb their own flight of stairs. I will make sure of it. And, as they should, my parents always remind me that “opportunity” delivered me from owning those repined eyes. They always do.”

SHORT ANSWER

“5678. When I hear those numbers, I fly. The energy of Dance elevates me into my perfect place and for the duration of my art, enlightens me. The importance of Dance in my life is incomparable - simply because dance moves the soul. A true dancer does not confine to one style, but feels rhythm in everything. A true dancer moves instantly at the sound of music and creatively choreographs. A true dancer knows that without the art of eloquently moving, the world would be a somber place. Dance has been a priority in my life since I was able to walk. The power that a dancer has to captivate and entangle audiences into a distant reality is truly amazing to me. When I dance the world remains under my pointed feet and my body feels surreal. I take pride in knowing that when I dance, I influence the emotions of my audience, recognizing that my dancing serves a greater purpose.”

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