Sample Essay

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I was born 31 years ago in Alabama, where my father was on temporary assignment as an engineer for a company with a military aircraft contract. Our stay in the South, however, was brief, and I was still an infant when my parents returned to their native New Hampshire with my older sister and myself.

Within six years, another sister and two brothers were born. We all lived in a cozy ranch-style house on six acres. I have many pleasant memories from my time in this home, which was located at the end of a long, tree-lined dirt road. The setting was beautiful, there was space to roam, and a picturesque river was within walking distance. For a while my father continued to work for the same company, which was developing an experimental aircraft. When this company failed, though, he became a radiation health physicist for the state.

Mine was the classic small-town upbringing in many respects. The values I learned were typical for someone growing up in a community in which everyone knew his neighbors and in which family and religion played important roles. I always did well in school and was quite popular with my peers. Sports, especially baseball, were my passion from an early age. I played on a series of different baseball teams, including one that made it to a local championship. I was even part of an all-star Little League team when I was 12. My mother was eager for me to test my aptitude in other areas as well and so involved me in art, piano, guitar, and tap dancing, none of which engaged my interest as much as sports.

My parents were fairly devout Catholics and raised their children accordingly. I was an altar boy at church and spent four years at a private Catholic boys' high school. While there I attended an institute which groomed upcoming seniors for leadership positions in the student body. I exercised what I learned as a group leader at special religious events as well as in programs for retarded children.

The most memorable event of my youth was, sadly, the breakup of my parents' marriage. I will never forget the day a moving van pulled into our driveway and my mother announced to my brothers, sisters, and me that we would be relocating to another house. While I had known there were problems between my parents, this was still an unexpected and shocking development. I was a sophomore in high school, and my idyllic world was shattered. My mother, who was a registered nurse, began working again, spending long hours in a nearby hospital. My brothers, sisters, and I, who had always had the normal sibling conflicts, became much closer in the aftermath of our parents' split, and our new rapport was a source of comfort to all of us. But there were other, less positive ramifications. I did not do well in school that year, at one point skipping class for a month. Somehow I recognized on my own that I needed to be living in a more disciplined environment than existed in my mother's home and, as a result, returned to my father's house, where I lived during the balance of my high school years.

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