Dartmouth Supplement (2018 Best College Essays)

Prompt: Twenty​ ​years​ ​ago,​ ​the​ ​world​ ​met​ ​Harry​ ​Potter​ ​and​ ​his​ ​companions.​ ​One​ ​of​ ​the​ ​more memorable​ ​lines​ ​from​ ​the​ ​J.K.​ ​Rowling​ ​series​ ​was​ ​spoken​ ​by​ ​Albus​ ​Dumbledore: “Happiness​ ​can​ ​be​ ​found,​ ​even​ ​in​ ​the​ ​darkest​ ​of​ ​times,​ ​if​ ​one​ ​only​ ​remembers​ ​to​ ​turn​ ​on the​ ​light.”​ ​What​ ​ideas​ ​or​ ​experiences​ ​bring​ ​you​ ​joy? ​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

I’m​ ​told​ ​that​ ​my​ ​three-year-old​ ​self​ ​regaled​ ​the​ ​public​ ​with​ ​tales​ ​of​ ​toddler​ ​adventure,​ ​but had​ ​the​ ​charming​ ​tendency​ ​to​ ​discard​ ​a​ ​syllable​ ​from​ ​every​ ​word,​ ​so​ ​that​ ​the​ ​victim​ ​was presented​ ​with​ ​a​ ​social​ ​butterfly​ ​speaking​ ​gobbledegook. In​ ​11th​ ​grade,​ ​many​ ​years​ ​and​ ​one​ ​speech​ ​therapist​ ​later,​ ​talking​ ​was​ ​still​ ​my​ ​favorite pastime.​ ​I​ ​had​ ​just​ ​leaned​ ​back​ ​in​ ​my​ ​chair​ ​after​ ​commenting​ ​in​ ​our​ ​first​ ​English​ ​discussion when​ ​my​ ​unsmiling,​ ​Doc​ ​Marten-wearing,​ ​makes-you-pee-your-pants​ ​teacher​ ​turned​ ​her​ ​basilisk eyes​ ​to​ ​me​ ​and​ ​prompted,​ ​ “Okay,​ ​why?”​ ​​Shit. Countless​ ​uncomfortable​ ​discussions​ ​later,​ ​my​ ​mind​ ​had​ ​grown​ ​quicker,​ ​and​ ​I​ ​learned​ ​to challenge​ ​my​ ​own​ ​ideas​ ​before​ ​Ms.​ ​McGlynn​ ​could.​ ​Peasants​ ​worked​ ​together​ ​against​ ​this​ ​evil queen:​ ​one​ ​idea​ ​would​ ​float​ ​into​ ​the​ ​air,​ ​half-baked​ ​and​ ​whispery,​ ​and​ ​it​ ​would​ ​be​ ​pummeled​ ​and poked​ ​with​ ​McGlynn’s​ ​fiery​ ​inquisitions​ ​until​ ​it​ ​either​ ​blew​ ​into​ ​the​ ​wind​ ​or​ ​rolled​ ​in​ ​a​ ​circle from​ ​brain​ ​to​ ​brain,​ ​picking​ ​up​ ​new​ ​fuzzy​ ​thoughts,​ ​counter-arguments​ ​and counter-counter-arguments​ ​until​ ​it​ ​was​ ​a​ ​giant,​ ​colorful​ ​sphere,​ ​powerful​ ​and​ ​multidimensional and​ ​complete. I​ ​had​ ​been​ ​trained​ ​to​ ​form​ ​words​ ​correctly,​ ​but​ ​I​ ​had​ ​never​ ​learned​ ​how​ ​to​ ​​speak​​ ​until​ ​my usual​ ​language​ ​was​ ​insufficient,​ ​and​ ​I​ ​had​ ​to​ ​dig​ ​all​ ​the​ ​way​ ​down,​ ​past​ ​mud​ ​and​ ​clay,​ ​to​ ​find sweet​ ​groundwater​ ​that​ ​expressed​ ​the​ ​nameless​ ​shapes​ ​in​ ​my​ ​mind.​ ​These​ ​days,​ ​a​ ​long​ ​traffic light​ ​will​ ​lead​ ​me​ ​to​ ​ponder​ ​human​ ​discomfort​ ​with​ ​stagnancy,​ ​and​ ​I​ ​yearn​ ​to​ ​transport​ ​myself​ ​to that​ ​classroom​ ​and​ ​trade​ ​words​ ​until​ ​they​ ​collide​ ​to​ ​form​ ​something​ ​joyously​ ​full. Although​ ​a​ ​seat​ ​at​ ​a​ ​round​ ​discussion​ ​table​ ​is​ ​my​ ​favorite​ ​place​ ​to​ ​be,​ ​I​ ​won’t​ ​always have​ ​that.​ ​I​ ​will,​ ​however,​ ​always​ ​have​ ​the​ ​voice​ ​in​ ​my​ ​head​ ​(an​ ​intimidating​ ​but​ ​beloved mixture​ ​of​ ​McGlynn’s​ ​and​ ​my​ ​own),​ ​asking​ ​every​ ​passing​ ​thought,​ ​“Okay,​ ​why?”