Question 1 (Required: Choose one) How does the University of Chicago, as you know it today, meet your need for a specific kind of education, community, and future? Please specify your personal wishes and how they relate to UChicago.

AUTHOR 1

When I visited UChicago, a friend persuaded me to participate in her Comparative Literature seminar, Monstrosity and the Monstrous. Desperate for warmth (as a Bay Area dweller, I hadn’t prepared for the Chicago winter), I quickly accepted. I intended to observe silently, but when I revealed that I had read Antigone, her professor was overjoyed and immediately urged me to participate in the conversation. For an hour and a half, we debated the benefits and drawbacks of civil disobedience: did Antigone’s acts permanently destabilize Thebes, and when does protesting against a government cross the line today? Was Antigone correct in understanding the will of the gods? Would Sophocles advocate pardoning well-intentioned criminals? Aside from the fascinating study of the play, I was attracted by the ethos of UChicago: a campus where everyone (even a loitering high school student) is encouraged to contribute and develop their ideas.

Now, it’s surreal to imagine taking “The Economics of Crime” from someone as renowned as Professor Levitt (I’ve been a fan since reading Freakonomics) and staying after class to clarify the finer points of the latest Freakonomics podcast (I especially enjoyed “Speak Softly and Carry Big Data,” on using data analysis to perfect foreign policy decisions). By participating in undergraduate research, I intend to contribute to UChicago’s heritage of pushing the boundaries of our economic understanding, and potentially apply my results to shape social policy for the Harris School’s Public Policy Practicum. Prior to graduation, I will get a taste of future careers in either the Fried Public Policy and Service Program or the Trott Business Program. Simultaneously, as someone who enjoys conversing and politely debating views, I am excited to immerse myself in the Core Curriculum and build a solid foundation of knowledge. Above all, I enjoy how UChicago pushes students to think critically, stimulates conversation, and challenges norms.

Aside from an excellent curriculum, UChicago has an incredible student body. Whether it’s over $1 milkshakes, at a desk beneath the gorgeous glass dome of the Mansueto library, or over a game of pick-up basketball, UChicago students have a reputation for sparking the most intriguing conversations, both trivial and serious. I hope that culture only grows stronger within groups like the student government, Muslim Student Association, and the undefeated Model United Nations team. Though I look forward to Scav, the notion of another scavenger hunt is even more appealing; throughout the next four years, my peers and I will uncover the influence we want to make on the world. Whether I end up in politics, finance, or the charity sector, I am confident that UChicago will assist me through the process; more significantly, as a member of a campus of dreamers, I hope to learn how I can alter any industry I enter. I’m looking forward to four life-changing years, this time with a nice winter coat.

Why this UChicago essay worked, from an ex-admissions officer

The writer of this article demonstrated a strong understanding of the faculty’s research and the university’s traditions. Admissions officers can see that this student has thoroughly researched the university, showing genuine interest not only in its rankings and reputation but also in what makes UChicago different from other schools.

AUTHOR 2

I recently had the pleasure of exploring the University of Chicago campus and stumbled upon a spirited debate that intrigued me greatly: the timeless dispute over which epic reigns supreme, The Iliad or The Odyssey.

This lively discussion unfolded in the dormitories. Following an informative tour, my friend Lizzie, whom I met during a writer’s retreat two summers ago, generously offered to show me around the campus. As we strolled through Max P, engaged in conversation about our academic pursuits, we realized we were both enrolled in Classical studies courses. The clash commenced with a mere mention of Achilles’ exploits in Ilion.

Without hesitation, I voiced my opinion: “The portrayal of Odysseus in The Odyssey lacks depth and consistency compared to earlier descriptions.”

Lizzie countered, “Perhaps, but The Iliad is saturated with violence. I prefer a narrative grounded in reality.” As tensions rose, I halted the discussion, sensing the impending clash of ideologies.

“Consider this,” I interjected, adopting a more assertive tone. “It’s possible that Homer wasn’t solely responsible for The Odyssey. Moreover, how do we reconcile Odysseus’ celebrated military prowess over a decade with his apparent indifference to his men’s well-being during the journey home?” Lizzie raised her hands in frustration, attempting to deflect my argument.

“True, Achilles’ frequent emotional outbursts can be tiresome. If I wanted to witness excessive sulking, I’d observe a toddler. However, an occasional inconsistency doesn’t diminish the overall brilliance of a story.”

Our debate raged on, reminiscent of the legendary clashes between Achilles and Hector, with neither side yielding ground nor edging closer to resolution. Yet, for us, the goal wasn’t escape but rather pursuit—a relentless pursuit of intellectual engagement. Just as The Iliad would lose its allure if Achilles had simply embraced fame and dispatched Hector swiftly, The Odyssey would lose its essence without the pursuit. This, to me, encapsulates the essence of UChicago—the pursuit of knowledge, the exploration of unanswered questions. While Lizzie and I never reached a consensus on the superior epic (although we both acknowledged the literary merits of The Aeneid), our passionate exchange epitomized the essence of intellectual discourse.

This is why I’m drawn to UChicago—a place where unabashed intellectual curiosity thrives. Whether it’s hearing the chapel bells chime Disney tunes, losing myself in the Reading Room, or marveling at the whimsically named Grounds of Being, I yearn for an environment that celebrates interdisciplinary exploration. I envision myself amidst a community of diverse interests—poetry enthusiasts, linguaphiles, and music aficionados—who embrace intellectual curiosity with fervor. The prospect of interdisciplinary studies, coupled with a plethora of academic offerings and a culture that fosters exploration, excites me. After all, where else can one discuss Homer en route to a physics lecture?

I’m eager to immerse myself in this vibrant community—a community defined by its shared passions and relentless pursuit of knowledge. So, paint me maroon and guide me to Axelrod; I’m ready to join this eclectic, intellectually stimulating family.

Why this UChicago essay worked, from an ex-admissions officer

The author of this essay effectively connects a casual conversation with a friend to the university’s approach of exploring different perspectives. When we think about college, we often focus on things like rankings, reputation, choice of major, job prospects, return on investment, and future earnings.

However, it could be argued that the real essence of college lies in pushing boundaries, trying new things, making connections, and having meaningful conversations.

This writer accurately acknowledges that these ideas are fundamental to the educational environment at UChicago. The admissions officer reading this essay understands not only that this student will do well at UChicago but also that they will positively contribute by challenging prevailing ideas. It’s clear that UChicago values creating an intellectually stimulating environment where students are encouraged to question, explore, and develop.

Question 2: Extended Essay (Required; Choose one)

Editor’s Note: The University of Chicago updates its additional essay prompts each year. They gather suggestions from new and current students. Below, you’ll find recent successful approaches to these essay questions.

2017-2018 UChicago Essay Prompt

What’s your Armor?

I won’t rely on luck if the wood isn’t as clear as the waters of the Piscine Molitor. When I say I won’t, I don’t mean I’ll occasionally clench my teeth and tap on a table or a bench if I’m in desperate need of cosmic intervention; instead, I mean I will never, under any circumstances, on a train, a plane, or even in Spain, tap on anything other than natural, uncoated wood. I notice scientific absurdity not only in superstitions but also in scrutinizing the small details within a particular belief. I’ve got my reasons.

Two years ago, as I scrolled through my Instagram feed, I stumbled upon a rather unsettling “fact” that, upon closer inspection, appeared more like a misconception. The post claimed that over 90% of all hardwood tables, benches, and chairs aren’t crafted entirely from wood. Instead, they supposedly incorporate a blend of synthetic and wooden elements. Admittedly, in most cases, the synthetic component likely only consists of a protective varnish layer. Nevertheless, such revelations can cast a shadow of doubt, particularly for the superstitious among us.

This moment sparked a profound realization with far-reaching implications. In a mere three seconds, my trust in the natural order of things was shaken to its core. Suddenly, everything seemed devoid of purpose and significance. Now, instead of knocking on wood for luck, I find myself rapping my knuckles against layers of preservative varnish—applied once, twice, or perhaps even ninety-six times. At that juncture, it’s essentially a synthetic mausoleum erected upon a wooden foundation. There’s no fortune to be found in such an unholy graveyard of materials. I might as well be tapping on glass, grass, or a plastic container.

While this might seem trivial in the grand scheme of things, consider the ramifications if I were faced with a critical moment—something with the potential to shape the trajectory of my entire life, such as college applications. Would I gamble on something that merely resembles genuine wood for luck? Absolutely not. Instead, I’d step outside, seek out the nearest tree (the only tangible symbol of assurance), and pound on it until my knuckles resembled shredded calf liver. The risk simply isn’t worth it.

Why does it matter anyway? Who or what enforces frivolous concerns like outdated pseudo-religious compulsions? I prefer to think that there’s a being overseeing all superstitions, whether common or obscure. The Being of Repetition would oversee attempts to cheat destiny by repeating a word thirty-seven times, the Being of Self-Induced Discomfort would watch over those who hold their breath while crossing bridges or driving past cemeteries, and the Being of Sylvan Knocks would ensure that no one who knocks their knuckles on a tarnished, synthetic-wood abomination receives any favor. This creature monitors individuals foolish enough to believe in the supernatural counterpart of fool’s gold, shaming them by leaving their worlds untouched. Those loyal enough to find the nearest tree and wrap it a few times will supposedly receive fantastic gifts from their generous karmic benefactor. Call me a purist or silly, but I’m convinced this is the absolute truth.

I’m convinced that those closest to me have noticed my quirky habits. Luckily, I’ve met some attentive individuals, one of whom, Jack, is great with woodworking. When I shared with him my internal conflict of not believing in superstitions but still feeling influenced by them, he decided to help ease my distress. He gave me a small piece of wood and even drilled a hole in it so I could hang it on my keychain. I carry it with me everywhere and give it a tap every now and then for good luck. Knowing that I have this token with me, regardless of where I am or what happens, means I’ll never have to worry about finding a tree in a moment of panic again. It symbolizes freedom from mental burdens.

Maybe one day I’ll overcome my habits, but for now, I’ll continue to carry my teardrop necklace wherever I go, wishing that Jack never sees my charm as anything but pure luck. Knock on wood, right?

2013-2014 UChicago Essay Prompt:

Mantis shrimp have incredibly complex eyes, allowing them to see polarized light and a wide range of colors. Unlike humans, who can see three primary colors, mantis shrimp can see sixteen colors, giving them a much broader spectrum of vision. It’s pretty amazing, you can check out more about them at mantisshrimp.uchicago.edu. But what exactly can they see that we can’t? What are we missing out on?

The beautiful colors of a sunset and the vibrant artwork in a museum are things we appreciate with our eyes. Our sense of sight lets us experience the world in unique ways, but it also has its limitations.

Despite their fascinating appearance, mantis shrimp are more like aggressive predators than majestic creatures. Their strong claws help them catch prey quickly. Could their ability to see so many colors be related to their hunting behavior?

Our sense of vision is connected to many aspects of our lives, like how we perceive popularity, prejudice, and isolation. We learn about popularity from a young age, like when kids decide who’s cool and who’s not based on superficial things. In the past, people judge others based on things like hair color and skin tone, leading to discrimination and segregation. It’s a reminder that our eyes can sometimes lead us to judge others unfairly instead of seeking to understand them better.

The mantis shrimp’s colorful shell highlights its evolutionary focus on beauty. Why would it bother to look so striking if not to attract mates and ensure its genetic legacy? If I had eyesight as powerful as a mantis shrimp’s, I’d probably pay close attention to every detail, examining each part carefully. Over time, the mantis shrimp’s pickiness may have removed less attractive individuals from the gene pool. It wouldn’t settle for anything less, hoping for redeeming personality traits. In a world full of unrealistic beauty standards, putting even more emphasis on appearance seems unfortunate.

As a kid, I read “A Wrinkle in Time ” and traveled to the planet Ixchel, where Madeline L’Engle’s character Meg struggles to explain sight to a creature without eyes. The creature says, “We don’t know what things look like, as you say… We know what it’s like. This seeing must be very limiting.” As a child, I wondered how hard it would be to describe sight to someone who couldn’t see, and all the words they wouldn’t understand—light, dark, colors, and shades.

When I thought about the mantis shrimp, this memory came back to me. Trying to understand everything the mantis shrimp sees is like trying to explain colors to a blind person—the red of a robin’s belly, the blue of the sky, or different skin tones.

At first, I was surprised by the idea that sight might be “a very limiting thing.” Now, years later, reading L’Engle’s words again, I see it’s true. While it’s useful to be able to see for things like matching clothes, sight can sometimes overshadow our other senses. We often judge people based on how they look, without considering what they say or think.

The mantis shrimp may have remarkable vision abilities, extending beyond what humans can see into infrared, ultraviolet, and radio frequencies. This unique vision could help it detect predators before they attack. Its eyesight might even be better than our senses of touch and hearing, allowing it to see sound waves in the ocean or sense heat. However, we don’t fully understand the extent of its abilities. Imagining its complete range might require a “Freaky Friday” scenario, where minds are swapped, showing just how much it can see.

As humans, we’ve come a long way from our ancestors’ focus on basic survival. We now have powerful weapons, leading us to believe we’re at the top of the food chain.

Thinking about Edwin A. Abbott’s Flatland, a book I read in Geometry class, we face the challenge of explaining things beyond our understanding. The narrow-minded monarch of Pointland can’t see anything bigger than himself. While humans don’t have the same abilities as mantis shrimp, years of progress have shown us our limitations.

The mantis shrimp’s ability to see a wide range of rays and waves, including things we can’t, makes us question our own vision. Maybe it’s best that we don’t have those abilities yet, as our current senses can be overwhelming. Perhaps true satisfaction comes from experiencing and understanding things beyond what we can see.