Sample 1 - Common Application Personal Statement
Before:
Racecar noises irreversibly altered the course of my life.
I waded into sixth period with my trumpet swinging back and forth at my side. Taking my seat, I noticed impatience prominent in every classmate’s furrowed brows. We were all wondering why we were told that we won’t be playing today—it was a band class, after all. I felt my eyelids lethargically drooping as the band director droned on.
“VROOM!”
A sudden rip of sound exploded through my eardrums, prompting my eyes to shoot open and rest upon the culprit: the band director was wielding a trombone. I was fortunate enough to be able to try the instrument out, trying to recreate that race car noise. When that glorious sound burst forth, I instantly knew that this was the instrument for me.
From that moment on, I dedicated every ounce of my free time to the band room. As I invested more into the trombone, the instrument invested more in me. Every sliding second, whether it be working on fundamentals or solo repertoire, molded me into not only a stronger player, but a stronger musician.
Listening to the flawless passage of phrases from instrument to instrument in the Canadian Brass’ live performance of Bach’s Little Fugue in G Minor ignited my passion for chamber music, inspiring me to form a brass quintet of my own. As I led the rehearsals, the group played together, listened to each other, and developed an unspoken bond that would last all throughout high school.
As my musicianship developed, more opportunities arose. I joined the California Youth Symphony in seventh grade, and just two years later, I was delighted to receive an acceptance letter to the San Francisco Symphony Youth Orchestra after refreshing my inbox five times per day for a month. All of my time spent in these groups rewarded me with musical discoveries and lifelong friends.
I was in the band room practicing a recitatif when news of lockdown rung upon me, endangering everything I loved. Within the next few months, I received email after email of cancellations. Solo repertoire began to feel dull, ensemble playing became extinct, and racecar noises weren’t so appealing anymore. However, I gathered the ashes of my motivation and like a phoenix, burst back into life.
This new energy drove me to bring ensemble playing back, and I started the Bay Area Symphonic Ensemble, recruiting my friends from County and State Honor Bands. My hours spent editing audio and video paid off as we live streamed our virtual concert in support of frontline healthcare workers. I also joined Tri-City Band Corps, where I taught aspiring low brass players in both group and individual lessons. Seeing the children smile in glee after finally being able to play a difficult tune always plasters a smile to my face as well.
All this momentum prepared me to spring right back into action when lockdown restrictions were lifted.
My most emotional performance ended my junior year with a school tour to the red carpets of the great Kennedy Center in Washington D.C. featuring our brass quintet that has been my lifeblood for years on end. Our last piece was a world premiere named Catharsis for orchestra, a name befitting of such a performance. Each one of my solos carried joy, loneliness, years of practice, and brought tears to my eyes.
But when I think of my musical journey, I’m always reminded of my first victory that opened up the great gates of music—making race car noises.
Prompt: Some students have a background, identity, interest, or talent that is so meaningful they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.
I always hated the word tacet.
Why? Composers use tacets—a kind of elongated rest—to instruct musicians to not play for an entire movement or section of music. To me, this felt like the musical equivalent of shoving me into a corner and telling me I was in time-out. As a trombonist, the audacious oxymoron of ‘playing rests’ was something I simply never understood.
When I started playing the trombone in sixth grade, I saw mastering the instrument as a challenge; I was motivated by the prospect of playing increasingly difficult music. In the band room, I embraced the stereotypical boisterousness of other trombonists, but in the practice rooms, I found happy, lonesome solace— just me and my trombone.
My quick progression soon whisked me away from wind ensembles into the uncharted territory of advanced, audition-based symphony orchestras. But I couldn’t evade the dreaded tacets! Although I understood the necessity of rests in music, it was still difficult to bring myself to have to sit through three hours of rehearsal just to play for twenty minutes.
Tacet. Tacet. Tacet. They seemed to follow me everywhere, like determined ghosts. I took my professionalism too seriously to allow myself to get distracted, and so in rehearsals my devotion to the music left me perched uncomfortably on my stool, glaring silently at the tacet written on the second movement of Gounod’s ballet suite.
Then, that five-letter word seemed to leap off the page into my very life. When the pandemic lockdown began, I received email after email of music cancellations. The band room, my magical sanctuary, was out of reach, and my music friends fell out of touch. Virtual playing wasn’t the same. In the silence of the lockdown, I felt the boisterous, energetic trombonist within me slipping away, being replaced by a quiet, tacet shadow.
As I was hopelessly surrounded by darkness, a flame of hope appeared.
Every musician in the Bay Area dreams of joining the prestigious San Francisco Symphony Youth Orchestra, and I was no exception. Coached by San Francisco Symphony musicians and rehearsing in the magnificent Davies Symphony Hall, the orchestra, with its global reputation in youth symphonies, boasted the highest level of musicianship accessible to me. With my heart in one hand and my trombone in the other, I began the audition process.
After hours spent recording and constantly refreshing my inbox, I was overjoyed to receive an acceptance letter, although I wasn’t able to actually play in Davies Hall until over a year later.
It didn’t matter; this accomplishment rekindled my spirit and gave me a new home. I quickly became a part of the active online community of SF Youth musicians, playing games together, writing bizarre fan-fiction, and having unforgettable late-night chats. Filled with an invaluable sense of belonging, I found my authentic self emerging from the tacet shadow.
Joining the orchestra’s second concert cycle last spring, I was the assistant principal for Gustav Holst’s The Planets. Although tacet for four entire movements—34 minutes—sitting in such a pristine concert hall with my favorite people and playing one of my favorite pieces, I found comfort in my silence.
The concert’s most memorable part was in the sixth movement: Uranus, The Magician. I joined the section in projecting four colossal, ringing notes across the hall, each played with the utmost charisma. As I counted through my rests, my ears perked up at the bassoons’ playful skipping and downward scales from the trumpets, building into the brilliant French horn soli that shook my soul to the core. The timpani’s thunderous rolls brought the whole orchestra to a raging gallop as I blasted out two climactic, gut-wrenching notes.
Tacet helped me transcend ink on a page to understand the beauty behind silence, and my newfound friends reignited my passion. I may have only played 14 of the 159 notes in the score—but for the first time, I finally played my rests.
Not a great essay so far- but this was my very first rough draft of my entire college application season, and I at least got the overall idea of the essay. Currently, it kind of reads like a resumé, which isn't exactly something an applicant would want in their personal statement, since nearly anyone could write such a story. I figured that it'd be better to focus on one specific thing and really expand on it and connect it the best I could to everything else. It took some time, but I eventually came up with the tacet concept as I was brainstorming while sitting in the audience seats during an orchestra rehearsal.
I really liked (and still like!) how this essay turned out. I thought that it did a good job of describing this sort of "spiritual awakening" I had with music while tying it to some changes to my personality. As compared to the "before" essay, the reader can be more immersed in my story with the help of stronger imagery and emotion-provoking word choices. Of course, as a final draft it also had better semantics and syntax, both of which are very important in communicating the message you want. Lastly, I thought that this recurring theme of tacets really helped the flow of the essay and brought everything full circle quite nicely.
This not-so-anonymous applicant is now attending Northwestern University.