Complied by Holly Dayton’13, Lens Section Editor
Every year, the Scroll runs a series of college essays written by the graduating seniors. This year’s seniors are a very talented class who are leaving CCDS to go to colleges all over (and even out of) the country. This is the college entrance essay of Alexandra McInturf, who will be attending Williams College this fall.
Alexandra’s Essay:
I’m obsessed with sharks. As in, I have the ISAF (International Shark Attack File) website saved in my Favorites, the day Shark Week begins marked down on my calendar, and Open Water on my list of movies to watch at sleepovers.
I remember clearly the first time I decided I wanted to become a marine biologist. This was a significant change for twelve-year-old me, for I had had my heart set on being a veterinarian. I was
on a beach at sunset, walking with my father. I looked out at the ocean and felt a strange turn in my stomach, a kind of unease. I was intrigued by what I couldn’t see. I found myself on a new quest: discover the unknown. That same Christmas I received snorkeling gear from my parents, which was accompanied by a free poster. The poster featured a shark with the caption underneath: “For every human killed by a shark, there are roughly one million sharks killed by humans.” It has been hanging in my room ever since. I’ve always believed that having knowledge of an animal makes them less of a threat, so perhaps it was an innate fear that turned my stomach that day at the beach and made me decide that I needed to understand these mysterious and threatening creatures. Since then, ask me my dream and the answer is always a quick, convicted, “You’ll see me on Shark Week.”
I don’t have a death wish. I’m not mentally unstable nor am I just plain naïve. I understand exactly what kind of harm sharks can inflict. In fact, I understand it much better than the average person. I have seen muscles torn off of the bone, the water turned red with blood, giant chunks of flesh hanging by a piece of sinew. Prey stalked and attacked again and again. No, I have not been bitten by a shark (although I always thought it might be exciting – a tattoo with a great story), but I spend my free time looking up the most recent shark attacks on the internet. I want to know why they attack humans when they are such efficient, conservative, and intelligent hunters under normal circumstances.
I had the experience of my life when I resisted my mother’s pleas to get a job the summer after my sophomore year and turned instead to volunteering at the local aquarium – the closest supply of sharks to feed my addiction. Every day after my shift, I wandered first to the shark tunnel to visit the nurse, sand tiger and sand bar sharks that roamed menacingly above and below. The crooked teeth of these larger sharks stuck out of their mouths, a constant reminder of the pain they could inflict, but I could only stare in wonder and admiration at their ability to coexist peacefully in the tank with thousands of fish and the occasional diver. After a few minutes there I would venture to my favorite exhibit, if I hadn’t been working there already: the shark petting tank. These sharks were small, Spotted Gulleys and Striped Pyjama sharks, a guitarfish or two, swimming over the “mermaid’s purses” (shark eggs) that littered the shallow sandy bottom. The exhibit was both extremely popular and controversial – the mere mention of a shark puts everyone on edge, and to say that one could pet them was to suggest a “death-defying feat.” Often the visitors would have to be convinced to reach into the “dangerous water”, but once they did, their faces would light up with excitement at the discovery that their fingers were not being bitten off. Naturally, there were always one or two in each group who were less enthusiastic, stomping up and promptly denouncing sharks as despicable, destructive man-eaters. Instead of wasting my breath trying to contradict them, I would merely look the offenders in the eyes while calmly stroking the Small-Spotted Catshark (one that I liked to fancy my pet) with two fingers from the nose to the tail before it turned abruptly and swam by for another round.
Most people recoil when they ask about my plans for the future, and I reply, “I’m going to swim with a Great White the size of a bus. Without using a cage.” I want to undermine any misconceptions about these animals. Here I am, an eighteen-year-old girl from the Midwest, one who might have a bright future as an entrepreneur, a lawyer, a soccer coach, even a veterinarian as I originally planned, and apparently I have suicidal tendencies. But I understand the vital role sharks play in the earth’s ecosystem, not to mention in fueling our imaginations. They are the ultimate apex predators for which I have a healthy respect, but I know I will always have a soft spot for them in my heart. Now, how many can say that about a shark?
Photo courtesy of flikr.com
