Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Right to Choose
For me, being a feminist means being conscious of the implications of gender. I didn't have trouble deciding to become an engineer. I was lucky enough to have two parents with engineering degrees, a mother who often told me that an engineering degree is the best degree to have, and a close bond with the science department at my high school. I even had the opportunity (well insisted on having the opportunity) to participate in a pilot hands-on Women in Science and Engineering program that my high school started my senior year. So it's hardly a surprise that I'm here studying engineering today.
However, for hundreds of other women, deciding to study engineering is a much bigger deal. There's a lot of implicit socialization out there silently convincing women to not become engineers before they even have the chance to consider it. Just as an example, there are tons of girls out there who are talented in every subject who have no idea what they want to do with their lives - why don't they all study engineering? After all, an engineering degree is arguably one of the most versatile degrees out there. Instead they're advised to become a doctor, lawyer, scientist - all noble professions, but is engineer on the list? I guess it depends on the advisor. We need to make sure that engineer is on that list.
Then once they do decide to become engineers, the battle continues. When you feel like you don't belong in a profession, it's so easy to drown yourself in negative self-talk. Maybe you have a bad day and bomb a test, what's your first thought? Oh man, I bombed that test because I had a bad day? Nope. It's - God, I don't belong here. That's why women drop out - it's not because they're not smart enough.
Saturday, June 02, 2007
Essay in a Can
UMBC Application Essays
"The arts are a necessity, like food and water, for true civilization." (200-350 Words)
When Mrs. McElderry, my art teacher, told me that we would be spending four hours in the Uffizi, a legendary art gallery in
I entered through a large doorway, not quite realizing how far the building extended, and began breezing through rooms. I walked through a hallway lined with busts of famous historical figures from Sappho to Napolean Bonaparte. I paused in rooms where Aphrodite gazed outward and sighed. I stared at paintings so renowned that the mere fact I was in the same room sent shivers up my spine. After four hours, I could have been officially declared dead. My head had been filled with so many beautiful and startling images that I could barely function.
As I gaped at the building that now loomed impossibly tall, I thought to myself that the world would be a dull and unstimulating place without the Uffizi, without artists like Michelangelo and Giotto, without paintings like Botticelli’s “The Birth of Venus”. Art gives civilization meaning just as food gives a stomach meaning. At that moment, I was filled with so much hope and so much pride in what mere human beings had been able to accomplish that anything seemed possible.
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“It has been said that ambiguity pervades the human condition. Illustrate this sentiment by discussing a book you have read . . .” (600 Words)
Imagine that you are stranded on a lifeboat and your only companions are an orangutan, a wounded zebra, a hyena and a
This is the journey on which Yann Martel takes you in Life of Pi. The tale starts out simply enough with the boast that “this is a story that will make you believe in God”. In fact, it starts out with a young boy who has such strong faith in God that he is a devoted Christian, Muslim, and Hindu, much to the dismay of his religious mentors. He looks at Christ’s suffering and sees God’s humanity. He bows in Muslim prayer and feels an instant, irreversible connection with the earth and everything inhabiting it. He understands the universe through Hindu eyes, the finite within the infinite. He looks at the world as a marvel, as something to be appreciated and loved, even when adrift in the middle of the ocean. Pi’s story is full of hope and suffering, fear and jubilation, instinct and rationale.
Yet at the very moment that Pi convinces you of the existence of God, he gives you reason to doubt. He retells his story with humans instead of animals, and this time there is no hope, no jubilation, only pain and suffering. And without pausing he asks you, which story do you like better?
In this way, Life of Pi reads much more like a religious text than an ordinary novel. Pi is the prophet and these are his parables. His miracle is his survival; his compassion is evidenced by his care of Richard Parker. He too went into the wilderness and was tempted by the devil. Yet it is the smaller phenomena that drive the message home, the lightening that strikes three feet to the left, the dolphins that dance on either side of the lifeboat, the ever-changing beauty of the sky. He cannot make you believe in God; and he does not want to, he only wishes to present you with that choice. There is nothing ambiguous in the search for God, and yet there is nothing unambiguous about what you find.
As Martel explains in the Author’s Note, “That’s what fiction is about, isn’t it, the selective transforming of reality? The twisting of it to bring out its essence?” In the end, it does not matter which story is true, it only matters which one you choose to believe. Life of Pi starts out as a story about the test of one boy’s faith and ends as a test for you, the reader. You can live in a world where there is no life after death, where people kill each other without pain of punishment, and where there is no greater purpose than survival. Or you can choose not to. It does not matter whether there is a God or not; it only matters what you choose to believe, and whether that belief nourishes you.
Olin Application Essay
The core value of "quality and continuous improvement" is integral to the Olin Community. How do you see yourself contributing to the betterment of the College in this area? What special qualities would you bring to the Olin Community?
The panic first begins to set in as I stare at our topographical map: the trail is unmarked and we need to cross a mountain. By lunch, I am close to tears. It is the tenth day of my Outward Bound backpacking trip and I am the navigator. In that moment, I realize the limit of what I can accomplish alone. I ask the counselors for help and they give me a set of directions to the effect of turn right at the train tracks and left at the pile of garbage. My group and I take turns reading the map and consult each other before taking shortcuts. Together, we finally stumble onto our campsite as the sun lowers over the horizon. We have to set up camp in the dark.
That trip was more than a series of close calls and exhausting labor. It was about finding out what I was capable of and using that drive to do more. I had thought I was incapable of navigation, but I just needed help. No matter how impossible my task seemed, I knew that all I needed was to figure out how to make it possible. A similar state of mind is required for
Likewise, research is never finished. This year, I am participating in the new Women in Science and Engineering (WISE) program in which I work with
Olin’s objective of reinventing engineering education requires students who are willing to look beyond themselves to the larger world; I am capable of that. To the Olin community, I will bring energy and stamina, the flexibility to change my mind about the world around me, and the willingness to keep trying even in the face of adversity. In order to maintain a quality institution,
Common App Essay
Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you.
The hardest two-weeks of my life were spent in the backwoods of
I had expected challenges like conquering my fear of heights or hiking more than I had ever hiked in my whole life, but it was the unexpected obstacles that were the hardest. On the tenth day, I was navigator. The panic first began to set in as I stared at our topographical map: the trail was unmarked and we needed to cross a mountain. It was impossible. By lunch, I was close to tears. The more I looked at the map, the more helpless I felt. I had never felt so completely inadequate in my whole life. In that moment, I realized the limit of what I could accomplish alone.
I asked the counselors for help and they gave me a set of directions to the effect of turn right at the train tracks and left at the pile of garbage. My group and I took turns reading the map and consulted each other before taking shortcuts. Grateful, I smiled. All of a sudden, reaching the campsite seemed less impossible. Together, we finally stumbled onto our campsite as the sun lowered over the horizon. We had to set up camp in the dark.
That trip was more than a series of close calls and exhausting labor. It was about finding out what I was capable of and using that drive to do more. I had thought I was incapable of navigation, but I just needed help. When my task seemed impossible, I broke it apart and figured out a way to make it possible. I learned that fear does not move mountains, but teamwork does. Sometimes I wonder if I would have been able to navigate without any help and I realize that of course I would have. It just would have taken a lot longer. Part of growing up is realizing that a team is far more effective than one person. In that case, I grew up a lot that day.