Hello Jane,

I truly enjoyed reading your essay. Your writing is sophisticated, refined and very articulate. You provide the reader with a window into a deeply personal experience, which must be commended. However, there a number of areas I would like to target in order to take this essay to the next level and distinguish you from the many other candidates applying to Brown.

First of all, my biggest criticism of your essay is that it is too controlled and “by the book.” As a result, your essay loses the feeling of authenticity, truth and candor that could make it truly exceptional. There are several ways that we can combat this and help your essay to contrast the rest of your application (which should absolutely be controlled and precise). First of all, begin your essay by immersing your reader in the drama:

“Seconds after my grand allegro in the final scene in Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet, I felt it. A sharp pain in my knee that grew so intense it radiated throughout my leg. Panicked, I look to the wings for my understudy, Veronica, and she instantly knew to prepare for her entrance. That would be the last time that I would attend the ballet as a performer.” You have a short space in which to captivate your reader, and this device is a perfect tool to do just that.

Next, avoid using the admissions essay as a laundry list for your accomplishments and activities. For example, you write:

“Though I thoroughly enjoy many of my more intellectual pursuits – including academics, the school newspaper, student council and non-profit work – I derive a completely different sort of pleasure when I dance.”

“I understand that it is Brown’s mission to bring together a diverse community of colorful individuals. The campus is not just a meeting place for great minds – it is a melting pot of experiences. I am confident that my experience with the art of dance makes me a viable contributor to such a community.”

I encourage you to preserve the integrity of this essay, and keep it focused on dance. The rest of your essay can speak to your dimension as a student, involved in a range of activities and extracurricular activities. Moreover, let the admissions committee determine what it is about you that complements the Brown community. It is not necessary for you to outline this compatibility—let your essay and experiences speak for themselves.

I would like to see deeper reflection in your conclusion paragraph. After reading your essay, your reader will wonder how dance really factors into your life today. Avoid going to ‘high level’ with your reflection, implying that grave misfortune has made you more empathetic and prepared you for the college experience. It is obvious that dance means everything to you—so I think it is important to show how you have redefined what it means to be a dancer in your life:

“As the curtains open, I hear the familiar, lilting flute solo of Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet. The theater smells the same. The anticipation of the audience is just as palpable. However, this time, my perspective has changed. I am in the front row, waiting for Juliet to make her first entrance, a florid sequence that I have spent countless hours practicing. My palms sweat and the muscles in my legs tighten sympathetically. At that moment, I realize, whether I am dancing or not: I will always be a dancer.”

This helps to articulate your shift in perspective, without separating too far from the context of this essay. It also helps to really bring your essay full circle and address your relationship with dance today.

On a few minor notes, remember to avoid cliche?s in admissions essays. Phrases like ‘every cloud has a silver lining’ detract from the authenticity of your narrative voice. More importantly, in most cases, they do not get at exactly what you hope to articulate. I encourage you to employ your own language throughout this essay, which will always be more interesting and specific.

Sincerely

Ivy Eyes Editor

One year ago, I tore my ACL (anterior cruciate ligament). I had to have surgery. Since then, I have been plagued with knee problems. My health has kept me off stage and out of the dance studio for months at a time. Having spent a lot of time in and out of doctors’ offices, I am well aware that an injured knee is not “the end of the world.” Still, my knee problems have derailed my plans and upset my life. Though I continue to study dance and perform in local events, no longer can I consider a career in dance. My passion for dance has been a formative part of my life.

As I approach my college years, I recognize my relationship with dance as something that has shaped me, defined me and made me who I am. Even at age two, I would not stop moving, running and dancing around the house. Every time my mother looked, I was in motion. Recognizing that I needed an outlet, she took me to the local dance school and begged them to accept me. “She’s too young,” the ballet instructor said. “She won’t have the attention span to stay in class.” My mother, determined to find a channel for my constant spinning and twirling, said, “Please. Take her. I’ll pay you. Maybe she’ll get it out of her system and drop out in a few weeks. That’s fine.” Sixteen years later, I am still dancing. For me, ballet is the ultimate creative and expressive outlet.

Music ignites something within me – an energy that glows and radiates and coaxes my limbs into fluid motion. Though I thoroughly enjoy many of my more intellectual pursuits, I derive a completely different sort of pleasure when I dance. It is timeless and universal in its inexplicability. I have danced in New York and Boston, in San Francisco and Miami, in classrooms, at competitions, and on stages. I have danced in the south of France, accompanied by Germans, Italians, Americans, Brits and Frenchman, and I have been blown away by how we seamlessly, effortlessly communicated through motion. So few of us spoke the same language, but the music started, the familiar French terminology spilled from the teacher’s lips, and we all understood.

As the curtains open, I hear the familiar, lilting flute solo of Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet. The theater smells the same. The anticipation of the audience is just as palpable. However, this time, my perspective has changed. I am in the front row, waiting for Juliet to make her first entrance, a florid sequence that I have spent countless hours practicing. My palms sweat and the muscles in my legs twitch sympathetically. At that moment, I realize, whether I am dancing or not: I will always be a dancer.