Compiled by Jayne Caron, ’10, former The Lens Section Editor, and Kathryn Black, ’11, The Lens Section Editor
While the rejections are in so too are the acceptances, and the class of 2010 already has an impressive display of college decisions. The essay is an essential factor in a college’s decision to accept or reject an applicant. Standardized test scores and GPA’s can only tell admissions personnel so much. The essay portion of a college application is the student’s opportunity to let the schools know what kind of person they really are. Here is a college essay by senior Jimmy Stafford who has decided to attend George Washington University.
Jimmy Stafford’s Essay:
The crazy mother and the four llamas
A true Stafford: I am thickheaded, unpredictable, and slightly wacky. From dressing my dog in tuxedo, to reading a book when my mom tells me. From making blowtorches to watching the travel channel. I know I am a little weird but it took me a while to come to this understanding of just how crazy my life was living in the midst of my family. But in 4th grade, all I ever wanted was to have a normal family. Enter the most terrifying thing ever for a 4th grader: Show and Tell to a group of your peers. And this was not some random group of people—it was my grade, plus 2nd, 3rd, 5th, and 6th grade. And I had to present my crazy mother and her four llamas. How embarrassing! “Mom, why can’t Jacob do it?” I asked. But my Mom’s response was simple: “Jacob is too young!” I rejoined, “Yeah, but he is in 1st grade, he is bold, and likes being the center of attention. He would do a great job!” That line didn’t fly either. So, I had to present the most embarrassing show-and-tell of my entire life in front of 300 plus kids! “Mom, all the older kids are going to laugh at me!” Nothing ever convinces that woman, so I had the longest car ride with trailer attached of my whole entire life.
When the car came to a stop in front of my school, with the dreadful screech of the lurching trailer behind, I locked the door so she couldn’t get to me. But she finally opened the door and yelled at me to go into my classroom, “…and right now.” Walking down the never-ending hallway, I was beet red knowing I could very well throw up or pee in my pants that instant. But knowing my mom, I would still have to present to everyone. So I had to confront my teacher with “…my show-and-tell is outside.” The teacher asked, “What is your show in tell?” I just ran down the hallway. I started to panic; I told my mom, “I can’t do it. People are going to think I am crazy.” My mom just told me that people would think “…you are interesting. People never like people who are just like everyone else.” That convinced me a little, so I presented the four llamas to all of my classmates and my teachers. I told them about what I fed them and about their everyday lives. When my petrifying speech was over, I went and hid inside the crowd of my classmates while my Mom took the llamas away. I went on with my day listening to all the kids talk about my llamas—I was the coolest kid ever. After that day, and still to this day, classmates still ask me about my llamas.
There is no moral to my story necessarily, but in retrospect I realized for the first time ever that being just like everyone else is boring and that being different is something that people respond well to. My mother, though I doubt that she planned it, taught me about life, about being who I am. Now that I’ve grown up, I’m not only proud of Mom but I take every opportunity to show her off and her menagerie of animals, like her 25 chickens, her two horses, or her three ornery dogs. As a matter of fact, I embrace the way my family is extreme and different from most other families.
Photo by Ilana Habib ’11
