The First Sentence

For the past seven summers of my life I have spent a week or more at a summer camp in the San Juan Islands, YMCA Camp Orkila.

The First Paragraph

For the past seven summers of my life I have spent a week or more at a summer camp in the San Juan Islands, YMCA Camp Orkila. Five of those summers were spent as a traditional camper, playing games in the forest, or other things one might expect from a summer camp. Looking back on my time spent there, I can say with certainty that I would not be the person I am today without that camp. Over the years my counselors taught me valuable life skills, most importantly how to be confident in my actions, a lesson I have always carried closely with me. It was because of these valuable lessons and their impact on my life, that I decided I would take the next step, and become a counselor at my summer camp.

Common Reactions

Most people’s eyes glaze over in boredom reading this essay. It’s boring, full of uninteresting and unimportant facts and details. One hundred and thirty five words into his essay, all you know is that Sawyer went to camp, was a counselor, and learned something about being confident.

Admissions officers have read this essay a hundred times before and can guess what will come next. By the time they get to the end of this first paragraph, they are skimming quickly.

Something that will always define me is the time I’ve spent as a camper at summer camp. Quintessentially part of any American childhood, summer camp is where I learned to be confident in myself, which has been incomparably beneficial. As student body president, I frequently have to give speeches or make decisions that implicate my entire school, and were I not able to be confident in myself, I wouldn’t have the ambition or self-accountability I have today. Summer camp gave me that ability, and yet I had always taken that gift for granted. It wasn’t until the summer of 2010 that I learned how to apply it to change my world even further, by passing it on.

Something that will always define me is the time I’ve spent as a camper at summer camp. Quintessentially part of any American childhood, summer camp is where I learned to be confident in myself, which has been incomparably beneficial. As student body president, I frequently have to give speeches or make decisions that implicate my entire school, and were I not able to be confident in myself, I wouldn’t have the ambition or self-accountability I have today. Summer camp gave me that ability, and yet I had always taken that gift for granted. It wasn’t until the summer of 2010 that I learned how to apply it to change my world even further, by passing it on.

In the summer of 2010, I graduated from camper to Counselor in Training (CIT). Having been returning to the camp for seven years, it was a spectacular feeling. However I soon realized that CIT was not a position with much prestige, and I generally had the most menial or unwanted tasks. In my first week, my task was Darius, an eleven year old camper. Darius was the archetypical nightmare child: He would constantly run away, yell at others, and harass the wildlife whenever possible. Halfway through the week, he left our group to urinate in a girl’s cabin. Upon realizing he would be reprimand, he escaped to the woods, leaving the other counselors and myself to conduct a five hour search after cleaning the cabin. I could speak for hours about the state of mental depravity that week left me in, and after the first few days I couldn’t do more than simply chastise him when he fell out of line. Now that I’ve had time to reflect, I realize that was probably how most people in his life dealt with him. Regardless, when it was time to say goodbye I was ecstatic. However just before he boarded the bus, he paused and said “Sawyer, thank you for this week. I had so much fun.” Despite his antics, it meant a lot to me that a camper had benefited as a result of my counseling. It was my first moment of vindication as a counselor, and it felt phenomenal.

Common Reactions

Virtually everyone thinks Sawyer is a jerk. Sometimes teenagers need to look at this essay a bit, but of hundreds of people who’ve gone through our workshop, every one of them has disliked Sawyer. Sawyer himself was incredibly embarrassed by this essay.

Issues that people have with this essay are:

It doesn’t sound like a teenager. There’s a difference between being confident and thoughtful, and being a kid with a thesaurus.

He uses words incorrectly.

His opening paragraph is scattered, with no clear point.

He talks about himself like he’s a gift to the universe (try reading this in a pompous tone of voice: were I not able to be confident in myself, I wouldn’t have the ambition or self-accountability I have today. Summer camp gave me that ability, and yet I had always taken that gift for granted.)

The second paragraph is all about Darius, with almost nothing about Sawyer.

In the second paragraph he seems to think he’s to good to work with Darius.

He doesn’t do a good job with Darius, and in fact is unkind and unsympathetic.

He feels victory (vindication) for having done a terrible job.

I lost it when Darius peed in the girls’ cabin.

I lost it when Darius peed in the girls’ cabin.

Common Reactions

This is a really good sentence. In our live workshops, instead of the bored faces people had after reading the first two drafts, people are smiling and laughing. The mood of the room changes immediately. An admissions officer reading this Friday at 4:30 would probably be relieved.

People can pick a lot of details out of these ten words:

The setting is probably an overnight coed summer camp (there’s a girls’ cabin, and a boy named Darius). Darius is probably a camper. Every now and then someone thinks he’s one of Sawyer’s friends. Sawyer is probably a counselor of some sort. Most people think “lost it” means he got angry or upset. Every now and then someone reads it as “I started laughing.” Darius had probably been difficult before this happened, and Sawyer had been putting up with a lot.

People also take some good guesses at Sawyer’s character traits:

He makes people laugh, and may be funny. He is probably patient. He may be confident. He opens his essay admitting to losing it. He’s down-to-Earth, writing in a straightforward, conversational tone. He’s bold. It takes some guts to use the word “peed” in the first sentence of your college essay!

I lost it when Darius peed in the girls’ cabin. It was the end, the twisted climax of a week I will always associate with pure, unbridled pain.

Darius had been building to this all week. This eleven year old had become my sole responsibility for the week he was at YMCA Camp Orkila, and he was systematically breaking me down. My directors had told me to focus my efforts on him for the week he was here, because as a first year counselor I could use the experience of dealing with a child like Darius. Yet in the seven years I’d been a camper here, I’d never encountered anything like him. Here was a child naturally skilled at wreaking havoc; harassing people and wildlife was an art form for Darius.

Before this week, all I’d wanted was to be a counselor. I wanted to support children and teach them to trust themselves, just as this camp supported me as a camper. I was ecstatic, and spent hours learning the best methods of managing children. But what about when your camper is fifty feet up a climbing tower and unstraps himself to taunt you? I realized that nothing I learned in the workshops had prepared me for Darius.

My drive to help others succeed was gone. After days of being positive with Darius, negative reinforcement became my best friend. It was all I could do to keep him in line.

Then, the finale. I’d been setting up for dinner when another camper told me that Darius had peed inside the girls’ cabin, and ran away to the forest. I led a four hour search party tracking him down, and spent an hour cleaning the desecrated cabin. I was broken. The hours of mental depravity had gotten to me. For those last two days, I paid as little attention to Darius as possible. We only spoke when he created problems.

When Darius got on the bus to leave, I started breathing for the first time all week. But as he boarded the bus, he said something I never expected: “Sawyer, thank you for this week. I had so much fun.” That moment still feels as raw today as it did two years ago, and I still can’t put what I’m feeling into words .

No one was waiting for Darius back in Seattle. His foster parents had abandoned him while he was at camp; CPS picked him up a few hours later. I still question myself about how I acted that week. Was I justified in how I treated him? Or was I simply too frustrated to dig deeper and help him, to support him? I tell myself I was only fifteen, it was how anybody that age would handle it. Maybe that’s true. But the idea that Darius is still out there, living a life in which everyone treats him the same way, still haunts me. It will for a long time to come.

I lost it when Darius peed in the girls’ cabin. It was the end, the twisted climax of a week I will always associate with pure, unbridled pain.

Darius had been building to this all week. This eleven year old had become my sole responsibility for the week he was at YMCA Camp Orkila, and he was systematically breaking me down. My directors had told me to focus my efforts on him for the week he was here, because as a first year counselor I could use the experience of dealing with a child like Darius. Yet in the seven years I’d been a camper here, I’d never encountered anything like him. Here was a child naturally skilled at wreaking havoc; harassing people and wildlife was an art form for Darius.

Before this week, all I’d wanted was to be a counselor. I wanted to support children and teach them to trust themselves, just as this camp supported me as a camper. I was ecstatic, and spent hours learning the best methods of managing children. But what about when your camper is fifty feet up a climbing tower and unstraps himself to taunt you? I realized that nothing I learned in the workshops had prepared me for Darius.

My drive to help others succeed was gone. After days of being positive with Darius, negative reinforcement became my best friend. It was all I could do to keep him in line.

Then, the finale. I’d been setting up for dinner when another camper told me that Darius had peed inside the girls’ cabin, and ran away to the forest. I led a four hour search party tracking him down, and spent an hour cleaning the desecrated cabin. I was broken. The hours of mental depravity had gotten to me. For those last two days, I paid as little attention to Darius as possible. We only spoke when he created problems.

When Darius got on the bus to leave, I started breathing for the first time all week. But as he boarded the bus, he said something I never expected: “Sawyer, thank you for this week. I had so much fun.” That moment still feels as raw today as it did two years ago, and I still can’t put what I’m feeling into words .

No one was waiting for Darius back in Seattle. His foster parents had abandoned him while he was at camp; CPS picked him up a few hours later. I still question myself about how I acted that week. Was I justified in how I treated him? Or was I simply too frustrated to dig deeper and help him, to support him? I tell myself I was only fifteen, it was how anybody that age would handle it. Maybe that’s true. But the idea that Darius is still out there, living a life in which everyone treats him the same way, still haunts me. It will for a long time to come.

I lost it when Darius peed in the girls’ cabin. It was the end, the twisted climax of a week I will always associate with pure, unbridled pain.

Darius had been building to this all week. This eleven year old had become my sole responsibility for the week he was at YMCA Camp Orkila, and he was systematically breaking me down. My directors had told me to focus my efforts on him for the week he was here, because as a first year counselor I could use the experience of dealing with a child like Darius. Yet in the seven years I’d been a camper here, I’d never encountered anything like him. Here was a child naturally skilled at wreaking havoc; harassing people and wildlife was an art form for Darius.

Before this week, all I’d wanted was to be a counselor. I wanted to support children and teach them to trust themselves, just as this camp supported me as a camper. I was ecstatic, and spent hours learning the best methods of managing children. But what about when your camper is fifty feet up a climbing tower and unstraps himself to taunt you? I realized that nothing I learned in the workshops had prepared me for Darius.

My drive to help others succeed was gone. After days of being positive with Darius, negative reinforcement became my best friend. It was all I could do to keep him in line.

Then, the finale. I’d been setting up for dinner when another camper told me that Darius had peed inside the girls’ cabin, and ran away to the forest. I led a four hour search party tracking him down, and spent an hour cleaning the desecrated cabin. I was broken. The hours of mental depravity had gotten to me. For those last two days, I paid as little attention to Darius as possible. We only spoke when he created problems.

When Darius got on the bus to leave, I started breathing for the first time all week. But as he boarded the bus, he said something I never expected: “Sawyer, thank you for this week. I had so much fun.” That moment still feels as raw today as it did two years ago, and I still can’t put what I’m feeling into words .

No one was waiting for Darius back in Seattle. His foster parents had abandoned him while he was at camp; CPS picked him up a few hours later. I still question myself about how I acted that week. Was I justified in how I treated him? Or was I simply too frustrated to dig deeper and help him, to support him? I tell myself I was only fifteen, it was how anybody that age would handle it. Maybe that’s true. But the idea that Darius is still out there, living a life in which everyone treats him the same way, still haunts me. It will for a long time to come.

Common Reactions

Virtually everyone loves this essay, and thinks Sawyer is a great guy. There’s a lot to explore in this essay; as you work on your essays, you can revisit this. We’ll take you through the conversations we have in our live workshops.

The Voice One of the first comments people make in workshops is about his voice: it is natural, down-to-Earth and easy to read. People who know Sawyer say it sounds exactly like him. It wasn’t like this in earlier drafts. He had the story down, but there were a lot of extra words and phrases. He had to polish and polish until it was just right.

The Story There are several stories within this story, some of them originally were quite detailed. The scene of Darius unhooking himself from the safety line 50 feet up a tree started as two long paragraphs, and ended as a short sentence in the form of a question. Sawyer had to make hard choices to boil his essay down to the core of what he wanted to say.

The Emotion Most people agree that they feel what Sawyer feels when reading the story. He does this by bringing in enough detail so you can visualize the scene, and by sharing his perspective or experience on what’s happening. You know his motivations, and feel his frustration and disappointment. That’s key to why this is so powerful–it’s easy to empathize with Sawyer.

The Thoughtfulness Sawyer clearly has reflected deeply in writing this essay. When he began writing this version, he didn’t know how important the experience had been to him. He’s a teenager, after all, and moving forward into the future. To write an essay like this, he had to look in the past, and in the present. Sawyer and his mentor had many long conversation picking apart the story, getting into the details of what happened, and into what it meant to him.

The Questions Sawyer doesn’t wrap up his essay with a nice conclusion, or a profound though. He makes it clear he doesn’t know what to make of what happened, and doesn’t know if he ever will. That shows great maturity and humanity, which adults recognize easily but teenagers sometimes miss. This is one of the most powerful aspects of this essay.

The Character In Sawyer’s earlier drafts he said he was confident, but comes across as cocky. In this essay he says nothing about himself, but leaves a deep impression of a good person with confidence, humility, passion, caring and humor.