I hate math. Freshman year I hid a copy of Sarum by Edward Rutherfurd under my desk while Mr. Chi conveyed Pythagorean Theorem. Sophomore year I hid the Italian Renaissance by J.H. Plumb behind my Algebra II book. Junior year I strategically slumped in my seat with my Kindle as Mrs. Leung rambled on about statistics. Since day one my escape has been into books both historical and fictional. In my English and History classes I emerged from my literary reverie to analyze, argue, and answer. But my greatest victory was visiting England in the summer of 2010. Sure I got 5's on my A.P. Language and A.P. U.S. History exams. Sure I got an 800 on my U.S. History Sat II, a 780 on the SAT I Critical Reading section, and an 800 in the SAT I Writing section, while getting A's in every English and History class I took. And sure, I can integrate my credentials into a personal statement. But how many teenagers were able to organize and execute a trip single-handed which not only triumphed over the labyrinth of customs, international travel, and the weirdly expensive U.K. train system, but also allowed room for a historically enriching experience? How many teenagers traversed the face of the planet in order to volunteer at an archaeological firm, and deal with pottery, bones, and miscellany dating back long before Christ? These factors are not why I am qualified, but rather are indicative of the quality of my qualifications.What at its most mellow is a passion, and at its most intense is an obsession manifested itself in my summer trip, and will undoubtedly guide me in the future. College won't just be a gateway to a high paying job. It will be, as the egotistical Sherlock Holmes would say "a most singular" opportunity to do what I love in a place that interweaves antiquity and prestige into a rich educational tapestry.
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