Edited personal statement essays

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:I can't believe people are suggesting using AI! Why bother sending your kids to college at all if you encourage them to check out their brains before they even got through the door?

I suggested seeing what AI puts out for a similar exercise AFTER the essay is written.

AI wil provide averagely polished, generic, and occasionally wrong adult-voice answers.

You can evaluate this to determine if your kid's work has been genericized and sounds too adult (the original question).

The other thing it might do is help identify some parts of the story/structure that are not present in the kid's own work.

As a teen, when writing to persuade, I affected a wordy, academic, long paragraph style that mimicked what I read. It's been hard to train myself out of it.

I think people learn best by comparing writing samples.

I do not think people should use AI to create the base of their essays. Although others do disagree.

Are you suggesting inputting the kid’s essay into AI? Won’t that trigger some sort of plagiarism tracker if it’s now in the public domain?

No...here is an example...ask it...

"Write me an essay about a dog riding a surfboard on a bioluminescent bay in Puerto Rico"

Then you see what it comes up with.

Huh. I think that would be a shitty impersonal essay. I don’t know how that’s helpful in this situation.

PP. My point is just that you ask AI to complete the prompt. You don't dump your own work into it.

I just asked AI "Write an essay about the friendship between the French and Italian peoples". That's it.

And it gave back 461 words, organized in an essay structure. Headers are "Historical Ties", "Cultural Exchange", "Political Cooperation", "Social Bonds", "Challenges and Resilience", "Conclusion".

Let me explain what you could learn from this (reasoning by analogy...this is not an app essay topic).

You could figure out if you left out an angle or discussion point (e.g., French admiration of Italian opera). You could infer whether you have a punchier opening and conclusion than an averagely competent discussion of a theme. You could look at your vocabulary...are you using jargon correctly? Is there a better turn of phrase (e.g., "deep and multifaceted relationship").

My reco is just a suggestion that addresses OP's concerns. Try it or don't. I gave other suggestions that don't involve AI.

Most of the examples of "really good college essays" that I've seen seem intentionally quirky or calculated to me. But the quality of the (non-AI-assisted) writing carries the day. I do believe there are precocious writers among the high school set.

A final AI example. Try "Write an essay about overcoming a high school sports injury" then as a second step ask AI to make it personal. The result sounds like most of the many, many essays on this theme that I read pre-AI while participating as a reader on a scholarship committee. Insert proper names, sport, body part and you'd basically have the whole flow.

I'd argue that if finished work is too similar to AI, it's not interesting enough to enhance the app for a highly-selective college. It might still check the box.

What if you ask AI to improve your essay and you input it into the prompt?
And you ask AI to shorten it up to 650-700 words?

PP. I was only answering the OP's question.

Given where we are at societally with AI, I would refer to the honor code at the university being applied to and the college app instructions. I personally would not dump my work into an AI to have it improved for something significant representing myself.

I do see the point of those who say AI is the low income person's substitute for a college coach. Also that not using AI may someday come to seem like insisting on the use of fountain pens and cursive.

My kid is a freshman this year. No AI was used in his essays. I could have written better ones at his age. My DH and I were the only readers and we disagreed on how flowery the prose should be. I gave him an editorial suggestion of a better, more apropos synonym in one place. Re-reading months later, I regretted that. It did stick out to me. A better word choice but also professional jargon.

What I learned from parenting a senior is that my next kid needs to have decent essay drafts by Labor Day. Starting in October was a fail. Also from DCUM, I learned that kids do these essays in school! Not in our laissez faire area. I think that is a good idea.

[Anonymous]

That Romanian essay is absurd. Do college admissions people really believe that is the authentic work of a high schooler?

[Anonymous]

I don't see the point of essays. They aren't written by the kids.

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:That Romanian essay is absurd. Do college admissions people really believe that is the authentic work of a high schooler?

Yes. And these are the admitted essays.

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:super polished essays are grounds for an auto-rejection. something to keep in mind.

take a look at these essays: https://essaysthatworked.com/

some of them are pretty basic tbh

Some do seem very simple. Much simpler word structure and sentence structure than the other essays.
But seemingly questionable topics? For example, you’re not supposed to talk about cooking or travel or sports or things like that right?

Here’s an example (by the way, you can see some markers of editing and AI in this essay if you look close enough):

Rica nu stia sa zica rau, ratusca, ramurica. I stared at the cracked ceiling of my bedroom in Romania, repeating the eight words under my breath. Rica nu stia sa zica rau, ratusca, ramurica. More than anything, I wanted to roll my r's, to speak Romanian without the telltale American accent. The simple exercise became a prayer. Rica nu stia sa zica rau, ratusca, ramurica. More than anything, I wanted to assimilate into the country that was my second home.

My problems with identity probably sound familiar to many children of immigration. I felt most at home when surrounded by Romanians. I ate mici on the Fourth of July with Romanians. I met my best friend through the Romanian community. But when I spoke Romanian, I was something else: an American. I wanted to demolish that language barrier, to jump up and down on its remains, to destroy what marked me as an imposter, a pretender, a fake.

Instead, I ran away. When my parents spoke to me in Romanian, I answered in English. When my friends called me a "fake Romanian," I laughed. I chose to distance myself from my culture, and I made sure everyone was aware of that choice. But beneath the surface I felt adrift in a sea of ambiguous identity. I wanted to feel at home in two cultures; instead I felt like an outsider to both.

About two years ago, I caught the baking bug. Starting out with pre-made mixes and rock-hard chocolate chip cookies, I worked my way up to custards, traybakes, and the occasional cake. I loved the methodical, precise nature of baking and came to appreciate the chemical underpinnings that made it possible. Though I did bake for myself, I baked mostly for others, revelling in the warm nods and crumb-filled smiles as people tasted the cake I'd spent the weekend making.

As I started baking more on my own, I began leafing through old family recipes scrawled on yellowed scraps or typed up in long-forgotten emails. The aromas of cornulete, fursecuri, and saratele soon wafted through our house, evoking memories of summers long ago in our grandparent's apartments in Bucharest. The all-too-loud radio in Buni Doina's kitchen as she labored over prajituri de cirese. Plucking gogosi from the fryer with Buni's scoldings ringing in our ears. Watching Buni spoon generous amounts of honey and ground walnuts atop steaming mucenici. On some days, I imagined Buni's expert eye watching me stretch dough into clumsy figure eights, five thousand miles away.

Buni's most important baking lesson, though, was not about moisture or measurements. Like me, Buni Doina can be overbearing at times, stubborn in the face of offered help, unyielding in her ways. But in the kitchen, dusted in powdered sugar, there is no denying her devotion to our happiness. Every stir of her wooden spoon is a step back to the common ground that unites us, fueled by constant, unrelenting affection. Her baking is not confined to an amalgamation of sugar, butter, and flour. It's an outstretched hand, an open invitation, a makeshift bridge thrown across the divides of age and culture.

Thanks to Buni, the reason I bake has evolved. What started as stress relief is now a lifeline to my heritage, a language that allows me to communicate with my family in ways my tongue cannot. By rolling dough for saratele and crushing walnuts for cornulete, my baking speaks more fluently to my Romanian heritage than my broken Romanian ever could. Making my parents the desserts of their childhood, seeing their warm, nostalgic smiles as they taste that first bite of cremsnit, I reconnect to our family and culture. Through baking, I've come to see food not simply as sustenance, but as a universal language, a way to say the unspoken and voice the impossible.

A lot of AI and/or adult editing here (hint, look at the sentence and phrase structure following commas (common with AI); look at the repetition of certain words).

Agree wholeheartedly.

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote: I doubt the kid wrote the essay entirely, it’s either AI, either the parents. The cakes names are weird, as many are not even baked in the country commonly anymore. Really, who is baking “saratele”( salted biscuits)? That sounds so ancient.

+1
Very AI-lite feel. Wonder where the kid got in.

Looks like MIT; Rice; Michigan….

For the Romanian essay?
Wowza.

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:Go back to an earlier draft, before the editing, and edit it yourself. Then it will sound like you because it is you, not someone you paid to sound like you.

I don’t even know why colleges ask for these anymore.

It's for plausibile deniability to cover up their biases and ignorance.

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:super polished essays are grounds for an auto-rejection. something to keep in mind.

take a look at these essays: https://essaysthatworked.com/

some of them are pretty basic tbh

Some do seem very simple. Much simpler word structure and sentence structure than the other essays.
But seemingly questionable topics? For example, you’re not supposed to talk about cooking or travel or sports or things like that right?

Here’s an example (by the way, you can see some markers of editing and AI in this essay if you look close enough):

Rica nu stia sa zica rau, ratusca, ramurica. I stared at the cracked ceiling of my bedroom in Romania, repeating the eight words under my breath. Rica nu stia sa zica rau, ratusca, ramurica. More than anything, I wanted to roll my r's, to speak Romanian without the telltale American accent. The simple exercise became a prayer. Rica nu stia sa zica rau, ratusca, ramurica. More than anything, I wanted to assimilate into the country that was my second home.

My problems with identity probably sound familiar to many children of immigration. I felt most at home when surrounded by Romanians. I ate mici on the Fourth of July with Romanians. I met my best friend through the Romanian community. But when I spoke Romanian, I was something else: an American. I wanted to demolish that language barrier, to jump up and down on its remains, to destroy what marked me as an imposter, a pretender, a fake.

Instead, I ran away. When my parents spoke to me in Romanian, I answered in English. When my friends called me a "fake Romanian," I laughed. I chose to distance myself from my culture, and I made sure everyone was aware of that choice. But beneath the surface I felt adrift in a sea of ambiguous identity. I wanted to feel at home in two cultures; instead I felt like an outsider to both.

About two years ago, I caught the baking bug. Starting out with pre-made mixes and rock-hard chocolate chip cookies, I worked my way up to custards, traybakes, and the occasional cake. I loved the methodical, precise nature of baking and came to appreciate the chemical underpinnings that made it possible. Though I did bake for myself, I baked mostly for others, revelling in the warm nods and crumb-filled smiles as people tasted the cake I'd spent the weekend making.

As I started baking more on my own, I began leafing through old family recipes scrawled on yellowed scraps or typed up in long-forgotten emails. The aromas of cornulete, fursecuri, and saratele soon wafted through our house, evoking memories of summers long ago in our grandparent's apartments in Bucharest. The all-too-loud radio in Buni Doina's kitchen as she labored over prajituri de cirese. Plucking gogosi from the fryer with Buni's scoldings ringing in our ears. Watching Buni spoon generous amounts of honey and ground walnuts atop steaming mucenici. On some days, I imagined Buni's expert eye watching me stretch dough into clumsy figure eights, five thousand miles away.

Buni's most important baking lesson, though, was not about moisture or measurements. Like me, Buni Doina can be overbearing at times, stubborn in the face of offered help, unyielding in her ways. But in the kitchen, dusted in powdered sugar, there is no denying her devotion to our happiness. Every stir of her wooden spoon is a step back to the common ground that unites us, fueled by constant, unrelenting affection. Her baking is not confined to an amalgamation of sugar, butter, and flour. It's an outstretched hand, an open invitation, a makeshift bridge thrown across the divides of age and culture.

Thanks to Buni, the reason I bake has evolved. What started as stress relief is now a lifeline to my heritage, a language that allows me to communicate with my family in ways my tongue cannot. By rolling dough for saratele and crushing walnuts for cornulete, my baking speaks more fluently to my Romanian heritage than my broken Romanian ever could. Making my parents the desserts of their childhood, seeing their warm, nostalgic smiles as they taste that first bite of cremsnit, I reconnect to our family and culture. Through baking, I've come to see food not simply as sustenance, but as a universal language, a way to say the unspoken and voice the impossible.

A lot of AI and/or adult editing here (hint, look at the sentence and phrase structure following commas (common with AI); look at the repetition of certain words).

Agree wholeheartedly.

I write with that comma structure and I am a real person. But my style is too wordy. Maybe the AI was trained on public domain 19th Century English novels. Like me.

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:super polished essays are grounds for an auto-rejection. something to keep in mind.

take a look at these essays: https://essaysthatworked.com/

some of them are pretty basic tbh

Some do seem very simple. Much simpler word structure and sentence structure than the other essays.
But seemingly questionable topics? For example, you’re not supposed to talk about cooking or travel or sports or things like that right?

Here’s an example (by the way, you can see some markers of editing and AI in this essay if you look close enough):

Rica nu stia sa zica rau, ratusca, ramurica. I stared at the cracked ceiling of my bedroom in Romania, repeating the eight words under my breath. Rica nu stia sa zica rau, ratusca, ramurica. More than anything, I wanted to roll my r's, to speak Romanian without the telltale American accent. The simple exercise became a prayer. Rica nu stia sa zica rau, ratusca, ramurica. More than anything, I wanted to assimilate into the country that was my second home.

My problems with identity probably sound familiar to many children of immigration. I felt most at home when surrounded by Romanians. I ate mici on the Fourth of July with Romanians. I met my best friend through the Romanian community. But when I spoke Romanian, I was something else: an American. I wanted to demolish that language barrier, to jump up and down on its remains, to destroy what marked me as an imposter, a pretender, a fake.

Instead, I ran away. When my parents spoke to me in Romanian, I answered in English. When my friends called me a "fake Romanian," I laughed. I chose to distance myself from my culture, and I made sure everyone was aware of that choice. But beneath the surface I felt adrift in a sea of ambiguous identity. I wanted to feel at home in two cultures; instead I felt like an outsider to both.

About two years ago, I caught the baking bug. Starting out with pre-made mixes and rock-hard chocolate chip cookies, I worked my way up to custards, traybakes, and the occasional cake. I loved the methodical, precise nature of baking and came to appreciate the chemical underpinnings that made it possible. Though I did bake for myself, I baked mostly for others, revelling in the warm nods and crumb-filled smiles as people tasted the cake I'd spent the weekend making.

As I started baking more on my own, I began leafing through old family recipes scrawled on yellowed scraps or typed up in long-forgotten emails. The aromas of cornulete, fursecuri, and saratele soon wafted through our house, evoking memories of summers long ago in our grandparent's apartments in Bucharest. The all-too-loud radio in Buni Doina's kitchen as she labored over prajituri de cirese. Plucking gogosi from the fryer with Buni's scoldings ringing in our ears. Watching Buni spoon generous amounts of honey and ground walnuts atop steaming mucenici. On some days, I imagined Buni's expert eye watching me stretch dough into clumsy figure eights, five thousand miles away.

Buni's most important baking lesson, though, was not about moisture or measurements. Like me, Buni Doina can be overbearing at times, stubborn in the face of offered help, unyielding in her ways. But in the kitchen, dusted in powdered sugar, there is no denying her devotion to our happiness. Every stir of her wooden spoon is a step back to the common ground that unites us, fueled by constant, unrelenting affection. Her baking is not confined to an amalgamation of sugar, butter, and flour. It's an outstretched hand, an open invitation, a makeshift bridge thrown across the divides of age and culture.

Thanks to Buni, the reason I bake has evolved. What started as stress relief is now a lifeline to my heritage, a language that allows me to communicate with my family in ways my tongue cannot. By rolling dough for saratele and crushing walnuts for cornulete, my baking speaks more fluently to my Romanian heritage than my broken Romanian ever could. Making my parents the desserts of their childhood, seeing their warm, nostalgic smiles as they taste that first bite of cremsnit, I reconnect to our family and culture. Through baking, I've come to see food not simply as sustenance, but as a universal language, a way to say the unspoken and voice the impossible.

A lot of AI and/or adult editing here (hint, look at the sentence and phrase structure following commas (common with AI); look at the repetition of certain words).

Agree wholeheartedly.

I write with that comma structure and I am a real person. But my style is too wordy. Maybe the AI was trained on public domain 19th Century English novels. Like me.

I see that comma structure so much in AI.

[Anonymous]

Relevant article about AI and style...

https://www.edweek.org/technology/ai-can-mimic-students-writing-styles-how-are-teachers-supposed-to-catch-cheaters-now/2023/12#:~:text=AI's%20ability%20to%20mimic%20a,a%20writer's%20voice%2C%20Sell%20said.

"You can use it [to] teach them about voice and what is it that makes this piece supposedly in the style of Hemingway? Where does [AI] fail to capture the [author’s] voice?” Sell said. “And as you’re having those kinds of discussions, then it opens up possibilities for students to think about ‘OK, so what is my writer’s voice?’ Because, you know, they might have written these five-paragraph essays, but is that genuinely their voice?”

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:I can't believe people are suggesting using AI! Why bother sending your kids to college at all if you encourage them to check out their brains before they even got through the door?

Because learning how to effectively use AI will soon become one of the most important skills?

https://www.wsj.com/us-news/education/colleges-race-to-ready-students-for-the-ai-workplace-cc936e5b

College students are desperate to add a new skill to their résumés: artificial intelligence.

The rise of generative AI in the workplace and students’ demands for more hirable talents are driving schools to revamp courses and add specialized degrees at speeds rarely seen in higher education. Schools are even going so far as to emphasize that all undergraduates get a taste of the tech, teaching them how to use AI in a given field—as well as its failings and unethical applications.

thats not the same thing as using AI to try to find a cure for cancer or protect against chinese hackers.

[Anonymous]

Saw this and thought of this thread:

https://www.businessinsider.com/college-application-essay-harvard-graduate-wrote-mcdonalds-yale-princeton-2024-8

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:super polished essays are grounds for an auto-rejection. something to keep in mind.

take a look at these essays: https://essaysthatworked.com/

some of them are pretty basic tbh

Anyone use this company? The personal essays seem much more basic and simpler than I'd expect.
Especially as compared to the JHU essays, the NYT profiled essays and the link to the UVA essays.

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:super polished essays are grounds for an auto-rejection. something to keep in mind.

take a look at these essays: https://essaysthatworked.com/

some of them are pretty basic tbh

Some do seem very simple. Much simpler word structure and sentence structure than the other essays.
But seemingly questionable topics? For example, you’re not supposed to talk about cooking or travel or sports or things like that right?

Here’s an example (by the way, you can see some markers of editing and AI in this essay if you look close enough):

Rica nu stia sa zica rau, ratusca, ramurica. I stared at the cracked ceiling of my bedroom in Romania, repeating the eight words under my breath. Rica nu stia sa zica rau, ratusca, ramurica. More than anything, I wanted to roll my r's, to speak Romanian without the telltale American accent. The simple exercise became a prayer. Rica nu stia sa zica rau, ratusca, ramurica. More than anything, I wanted to assimilate into the country that was my second home.

My problems with identity probably sound familiar to many children of immigration. I felt most at home when surrounded by Romanians. I ate mici on the Fourth of July with Romanians. I met my best friend through the Romanian community. But when I spoke Romanian, I was something else: an American. I wanted to demolish that language barrier, to jump up and down on its remains, to destroy what marked me as an imposter, a pretender, a fake.

Instead, I ran away. When my parents spoke to me in Romanian, I answered in English. When my friends called me a "fake Romanian," I laughed. I chose to distance myself from my culture, and I made sure everyone was aware of that choice. But beneath the surface I felt adrift in a sea of ambiguous identity. I wanted to feel at home in two cultures; instead I felt like an outsider to both.

About two years ago, I caught the baking bug. Starting out with pre-made mixes and rock-hard chocolate chip cookies, I worked my way up to custards, traybakes, and the occasional cake. I loved the methodical, precise nature of baking and came to appreciate the chemical underpinnings that made it possible. Though I did bake for myself, I baked mostly for others, revelling in the warm nods and crumb-filled smiles as people tasted the cake I'd spent the weekend making.

As I started baking more on my own, I began leafing through old family recipes scrawled on yellowed scraps or typed up in long-forgotten emails. The aromas of cornulete, fursecuri, and saratele soon wafted through our house, evoking memories of summers long ago in our grandparent's apartments in Bucharest. The all-too-loud radio in Buni Doina's kitchen as she labored over prajituri de cirese. Plucking gogosi from the fryer with Buni's scoldings ringing in our ears. Watching Buni spoon generous amounts of honey and ground walnuts atop steaming mucenici. On some days, I imagined Buni's expert eye watching me stretch dough into clumsy figure eights, five thousand miles away.

Buni's most important baking lesson, though, was not about moisture or measurements. Like me, Buni Doina can be overbearing at times, stubborn in the face of offered help, unyielding in her ways. But in the kitchen, dusted in powdered sugar, there is no denying her devotion to our happiness. Every stir of her wooden spoon is a step back to the common ground that unites us, fueled by constant, unrelenting affection. Her baking is not confined to an amalgamation of sugar, butter, and flour. It's an outstretched hand, an open invitation, a makeshift bridge thrown across the divides of age and culture.

Thanks to Buni, the reason I bake has evolved. What started as stress relief is now a lifeline to my heritage, a language that allows me to communicate with my family in ways my tongue cannot. By rolling dough for saratele and crushing walnuts for cornulete, my baking speaks more fluently to my Romanian heritage than my broken Romanian ever could. Making my parents the desserts of their childhood, seeing their warm, nostalgic smiles as they taste that first bite of cremsnit, I reconnect to our family and culture. Through baking, I've come to see food not simply as sustenance, but as a universal language, a way to say the unspoken and voice the impossible.

This essay got the kid into MIT?!?!

[Anonymous]

Looking for someone to review my DD essay. Anyone used Ryan?

Also where to find good or model essays for diversity prompts or community prompts? College Essay Guy is meh.