The Essay That Got Me into UCLA

CALIZ
4 min readAug 30, 2019

--

In 2010 I applied to UCLA, a major “reach” school. My college counselor laughed at the idea of me even applying — how silly of me!

I was a good student, but being from the East Coast, the odds were stacked against me. Not only is it the world’s most applied to school, over 130,000 students apply a year, but only 16% of those students will be accepted and just 1/5 of those are out-of-state students. Challenge accepted.

So how did I do it?

This is how — I wrote an essay that meant something to me, and I kept it sweet and simple. I’m not the greatest writer so I kept the message purposeful. In doing so, I was granted admission (much to the surprise of my counselor, hah take that Mr. M) and I graduated in 2015! Since then, my essay has even been published in the book: 50 Successful University of California Application Essays: Get into the Top UC Colleges and Other Selective Schools.

Below is my college essay written by 17-year-old me, and I’ll let it do the talking. Again, Short. Simple. Sweet. PURPOSEFUL.

Let me know what you think, and stay tuned for more posts!

The Best Presents Sometimes Have the Worst Wrapping

“Motadsé!” exclaimed my grandmother in her native French. Her sudden shriek was due to her biting into a sour cranberry that I told her was a sweet blueberry. Because of my grandparents’ onsetting Alzheimer’s disease, I always did the best I could to keep our interactions light and fun, despite the looming grief and loss that inevitably lay ahead. Although I could laugh with them in the moment, it was hard for me to see them deteriorate, never knowing when our last moments together would be.

There were so many reasons why I didn’t like what was happening: the potential loss of two people very special to me, as well as an unexpected lifestyle that didn’t ask my opinion before barging in. My days for the last three years have not consisted of what I imagined this time period of my life would be like: spending weekends with friends, playing sports after school, going to the movies, or in general just being a “normal teenager.” Instead, I was fetching meals, repeating conversations, and providing entertainment to the very same people who used to do the same for me. I constantly told friends that I wouldn’t be able to spend time with them on the weekends. My Facebook status and text messages reflected the same sentiment. During my freshman year, I even opted for alternative online schooling for the year, just so I could schedule academics around what was the priority of that time, being a caretaker to my grandparents.

Despite my best attempts to always put on a happy face, my emotions about the situation were mixed and raw. Some of the more intense days required me to make 911 calls, or a trip (or two) to the emergency room. Simpler days may have been spent laughing, holding their hands, or wiping their tears as the confusion took a psychological toll on them.

After three years of watching my grandparents slowly deteriorate, they both finally passed on. My grandfather went first at the end of June 2009 and my grandmother followed half a year later in January 2010. I was devastated. Words could not describe the uproar of feelings conjured up inside me. And I felt it, I felt all of it, staying with the emotion until the very end. But what resounded most inside of me in the aftermath of their death was not sadness, but a question: Now what? For over three years I endured the emotional ups and downs of watching two people I deeply cared for walk the slow road to death. Who was I without this identity?

It took some reflection, but I realized that who I wanted to be was the person I already was. I had initially thought that I may have missed the formative experiences of high school that I needed in order to blossom into the woman I intended to become. But when I looked to see what I missed out on, I knew in my heart nothing could compare to the deep connection I shared with my grandparents before they passed on, not to mention all the responsibility, leadership, and emotional maturity I had learned along the way. I was exactly where I needed to be. I discovered that I wanted to do in life what I had done in a small way for my grandparents — dedicating myself to serving others.

With a small shift in perspective, what I initially thought was an emotionally difficult time period, which resulted in me missing out on precious personal life moments, became my grandparents’ gift to me. A great gift, difficult to open and wrapped in emotional turmoil, but the best gift nonetheless: a clear passion and purpose for my life.

I will never forget my grandparents, and this essay is written in memory of them.

--

--

CALIZ
CALIZ

Written by CALIZ

A once young girl that rode her bike every day after school knowing there was more to the story of life despite being told & teased that there wasn’t.

No responses yet