Aran’s essay takes the shape of an onion. It begins with an outer coating that draws the reader in and
proceeds with a series of substantial inner layers—each of which reveals deeper insight into Aran’s
character.
The physical description of Aran serves as the perfect external layer, because it depicts him as the
athlete who is at a major disadvantage because of his size; the rower
who is looked down upon by
other rowers, the oarsman who is constantly mistaken for a coxswain—as the underdog—(
everyone
loves a good underdog story). Once the essay effectively engages the reader this way, it seamlessly
transitions into the narrative’s second and third layers: Aran’s analysis of his athletic experience
through the lens of his struggle as the unlikely rower and the contextualization of other aspects of his
life—such as teaching, squash, and journalism—with respect to perseverance and teamwork, the two
values he learned to appreciate through rowing. The strength of his essay rests with this structure; by
creating a burgeoning self-portrait of Aran, the onion-like organization style of the narrative enables
Aran to impart to the reader a detailed and comprehensive understanding of who he is by the end of
the essay.
The only risk Aran takes is not taking any risks at all. After reading countless essays that
predictably expound upon students’ résumés by demonstrating their abilities to rise above challenges
and collaborate efficiently with their peers, admissions officers likely welcome bold attempts at the
new and unusual. Aran’s essay,
written in a simple, straightforward, and even somewhat
conversational tone, lacks such an audacious venture. This essay contains no fanfare, no theatrics, no
drama—but it does get the job done.
—Maddie Sewani