SAMPLE EDIT 4

Student’s Need: The student had to write a 500-word (max) supplemental essay for UPenn. The question was:

Ben Franklin once said, “All mankind is divided into three classes: those that are immovable, those that are movable, and those that move.” Which are you?

The student had a solid first draft. Even though this was “only” a supplemental essay, the student wanted me to help him amplify and significantly strengthen the essay: to suggest revisions that would add texture, imagery, symbolism, poignancy to the piece—and, most important, to make him stand out among the pool of 15,000 to 20,000 applicants.

Obviously this type of edit requires more time and effort. Depending on the quality of the first draft, the process might require that the student write anywhere from 2 to 4 drafts. The student emails his/her drafts to me, I email back suggestions to the student, until the final draft is done.


 Job: 2.5 hours total. ($400/hour x 2.5) = $1000

Billing: I will bill the parent for my time, in increments of 15 minutes. Note: students should allow a reasonable turnover time for edits (5 to 7 days). It’s impossible for me to edit with short notice, since I have many essays to edit, in addition to my regular tutoring schedule.

 
FIRST VERSION: 567 WORDS

Each Monday, a new film of dust would appear on the worn white plastic of the school library’s fan, evidence of the exhaust of passing eighteen-wheelers. As I sat under the tall bookshelves doing schoolwork, I would often have to cover my ears as a dutiful police car rushed by an open window, siren blaring while yielding cars honked. This atmosphere was anything but pleasing. I was not sure when, where or how I would transform urban Brooklyn into a peaceful oasis, but I was sure about the why.

I wanted to form a space in which we students could create and share our creations. Its character would not only be defined by a plethora of colorful scented bushes, trees, and flowers, but also by the lyrical chant of poems, and the graceful smudges of oil paintings. This garden would become our Eden.   

I earnestly thought over its location. I decided on a decrepit, stone backyard behind the school’s brownstone. It contained two rusted chairs and a pile of wood. This bleakness did not scare me away. In fact, it strengthened my desire for improvement. I wanted to see past the squalor and imagined what could be. I shut my eyes, and slowly felt the brisk November air fade into the mild weather of spring. I mentally placed daffodils, irises, basil, and parsley around bistro chairs and tables. I envisioned my Japanese class conducting its studies around the stairs, while a few painters, stationed with easels, worked by the fence. This was the new atmosphere I hoped to create.

Although I was eager to begin my project, I was unsure whether I, a tenth-grade student, could actually fix the problem of urban claustrophobia and pollution. I decided to find out. I had numerous meetings with the school’s administration, explaining to them the freedom and tranquility that the student body would gain by having this green space. Although they loved the idea, the administrators said that the school could not finance the project. Even more, I could not hold any fundraisers. The administration understandably did not want to foster competition for scholarship donations, but I wondered if there was a nonintrusive alternative. I spoke in assemblies, sent out emails, and discussed ideas before and after classes, trying to informally receive any money that would come my way. Within two weeks, I had acquainted the school with my vision and was able to raise enough money to get the project off the ground.

As I unloaded the sea of yellow and white flowers from the delivery truck, a huge smile stretched across my face. While I, along with a group of green-thumbed students began planting, talking, and gradually laughing with one another within our slightly stronger community, my fantasy blossomed right in front of me. The next afternoon, when I went back there to water, I was surprised to see a Greek class sitting in a circle. The warm weather and bright sunshine seemed to enter each of them. They were engaged and enthused.

Last spring, I decided to create a magazine that discusses environmental issues. With my group of writers, I will help further spread the discussion of global warming, farmers markets and bike sharing systems. This garden was the first step to a shift in my community’s outlook on our lives. I cannot wait to experience the great memories that will undoubtedly form themselves in this space.

 
SECOND VERSION: 494 Words

               Every Monday at school, for what feels like my whole lifetime, a new film of dust would appear on the library’s ceiling fan—evidence of passing eighteen-wheelers. Welcome to Brooklyn!

Last year on one of these Mondays, as I sat under bookshelves doing work and covering my ears from a dutiful police siren, I decided I needed to build a peaceful oasis in my urban borough. I didn’t know where when or how. But I knew why.

I wanted to form a space in which we students could create… and then share our creations. Its character would not only be defined by colorful flowers, bushes, and trees— but also by the lyrical chant of poems and the graceful smudges of oil paintings. This garden would become our Eden.   

I pondered its location—this imagined place—and decided on a decrepit, stone backyard behind our school’s brownstone building. The yard contained precisely two rusted chairs and a heaping pile of decaying wood. It was the bleakest corner of the school, but its dreariness only stoked my desire. I saw past the squalor and imagined what could be. I shut my eyes and felt the brisk November air fade into the mild weather of spring. I mentally placed daffodils, irises, basil, and parsley around bistro chairs and tables; I envisioned my Japanese class reciting poems by Basho around the stairs; I saw student artists painting canvases next to student volunteers painting the fence. 

Although eager to begin my project, I was unsure whether I, a tenth-grader, could adequately address urban claustrophobia and the problems of pollution. I had numerous meetings with the headmaster, explaining the benefits for the community—and while he loved the idea, he said the school could not finance the project. On top of that, I could not hold any fundraisers: the administration did not want competition for scholarship donations. I wondered if there was an acceptable alternative.

Slowly and organically, I started speaking in assemblies, sending out emails, and discussing my ideas before and after class. Each time, I would request a donation, large or small. Within two weeks, I had $3000 for what was now a unified school vision.

As I unloaded the sea of yellow and white flowers from the delivery truck, a huge smile bloomed on my face. As I, along with some green-thumbed classmates, began planting, talking, and laughing, my fantasy blossomed before my eyes. The very next afternoon, when I went back to water, I was surprised and gratified to see a Greek class sitting in a circle.

This garden was only the first step to a shift in the Saint Ann’s outlook. Last spring, I created a magazine that discusses environmental issues. With other writers, I’ve helped further spread the discussion of global warming, sustainability, and even bike-sharing programs. I hope that through these projects I’ve produced the invaluable fruit of knowledge, and helped open our eyes to the problems and delights of our world.

 FINAL VERSION: 497 Words

Every Monday at school, for what feels like my whole lifetime, a new film of dust would appear on the library’s ceiling fan—evidence of passing eighteen-wheelers. Welcome to Brooklyn.

Last year, on one of these Mondays, as I sat under bookshelves doing work and covering my ears from a dutiful police siren, I decided I needed to build a peaceful oasis in my urban borough. I didn’t know where, when, or how. But I knew why.

I wanted to form a space in which we students could create… and then share our creations. Its character would not only be defined by colorful flowers, bushes, and trees—but also by the lyrical chant of poems and the graceful smudges of oil paintings. This garden would become our Eden.   

I pondered its location—this imagined place—and decided on a decrepit, stone backyard behind our school’s brownstone building. The yard contained precisely two rusted chairs and a heaping pile of decaying wood. It was the bleakest corner of the school, but its dreariness only stoked my desire. I saw past the squalor and imagined what could be. I shut my eyes and felt the brisk November air fade into the mild weather of spring. I mentally placed daffodils, irises, basil, and parsley around bistro chairs and tables; I envisioned my Japanese class reciting poems by Basho around the stairs; I saw student artists painting canvases next to student volunteers painting the fence. 

Although eager to begin my project, I was unsure whether I, a tenth-grader, could adequately address urban claustrophobia and the problems of pollution. I had numerous meetings with the headmaster, explaining the benefits for the community—and while he loved the idea, he said the school could not finance the project. On top of that, I could not hold any fundraisers: the administration did not want any competition for the school’s scholarship[1] donations. I wondered if there was an acceptable alternative.

Slowly and organically, I started speaking in assemblies, sending out emails, and discussing my ideas before and after class. Each time, I would request a donation, large or small. Within two weeks, I had raised[2] $3000 for what was now a unified school vision.

As I unloaded the sea of yellow and white flowers from the delivery truck, a huge smile bloomed on my face. As I, along with some green-thumbed classmates, began planting, talking, and laughing, my fantasy blossomed before my eyes. The very next afternoon, when I went back to water, I was surprised and gratified to see a Greek class sitting in a circle.

This garden was only the first step to[3] in changing my school’s outlook. Last spring, I created a magazine that discusses environmental issues. With other writers, I’ve helped further spread the discussion of global warming, sustainability, and even bike-sharing programs. I hope that through these projects I’ve produced the invaluable fruit of knowledge, and helped open our eyes to the problems and delights of our world.

 


[1] I added words for clarity

[2] “had” just sounds awkward

[3] wrong idiom

KhoiLuu@post.harvard.edu     © Khoi Luu 2020