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Applicant Context

GPA 4.0/4.0

SAT 1570/1600

Demographics Male, White, Philadelphia, Middle-Income

Hooks N/A

Notable admissions Duke, Princeton, Columbia, Cornell, Emory (full-ride)

Essay

Common App (topic of your choice)

“Man, you do good work. I’ve got to get you to my house” Robert chuckled with a coy smile, commenting on Lucas polishing the glass door at the entrance to the building.  Robert always seemed to have a kind word for Lucas whenever he rolled in to empty the FedEx night drop.  Lucas responded with a wide smile, a slight shake of his head, and three gentle slaps on Robert’s back.  The two men shook hands, greeting each other warmly, and yelled at me to come over as they were about to unlock the Centrum Café.

Most nights I would bike, or later on drive, to the tranquil atrium of my dad’s office building to do school work. I am technically not allowed to be there, but after the first few times, I began to develop a friendship with the nighttime custodial workers, Lucas and Hugo.  I often think back to one of my first interactions with them.  I was working on a Spanish presentation and I heard a chuckle, embarrassed, I looked up. Lucas, the more outgoing of the two, smiled and said that my pronunciation “fue mediocre.”  The genuine nature of his smile melted my embarrassment away and I replied, “Then it is a good thing you didn’t hear me earlier.”  Slowly these exchanges became more frequent and more meaningful.

Eventually, I became a part of the building’s nighttime culture. At around seven most evenings me, Lucas, Hugo, and occasionally older but zestful Robert, will sit around a table drinking Red Bull and coffee, chattering about the woes and wonders of the day. It is certainly a circle I never thought I would become a part of, but I have come to genuinely care about these people.

However, there is an aspect of this community that I find upsetting. While you can tell Lucas, Hugo, and Robert care for each other in person, they despise one another in the abstract. When I am alone with each individual of this group, the conversation often turns political. Lucas is adamant about his frustration with the current administration and will come up to me in the middle of studying with articles he finds on Facebook from CNN and MSNBC.  It is clear he sees the conservative perspective as more than simply philosophically flawed, but morally evil. Robert’s beliefs are diametrically opposite, in fact, a few days ago he told me point blank, “When you go off to college, don’t become one of those toxic liberals.”

With each of my attempted explanations on how every idea has its merits and flaws, I am consistently met with Robert’s eye roll and wry smile or Lucas’ animated head shake and excitable “No!” While the interactions are playful and light-hearted, each one-on-one discussion reminds me of a sad truth. An invisible divide exists at that table, a divide built on the strongest and most dangerous weapons known to man: misinformation, hysteria, and prejudice. A divide that is symbolic of the blame and distrust that stands in the way of real change.

Both groups of men are kind, and genuine, and believe the way they do because of their experiences and upbringing. When we sit around that table as individuals we laugh, give each other advice, and swap stories. But when treated as units, when labeled with ideologies, they become unable to recognize the merit in each other’s beliefs, painting all opponents with the same one-dimensional brush. This community has taught me the unforgiving power of labels, but it has also demonstrated that we are capable of all sitting at the same table, of appreciating and learning from one another when humanized as individuals, instead of simply the buckets that we find ourselves entrenched in.

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