Essay Test: Home and a Sinuous Stream

Ovoo

The following essay was submitted to highly selective colleges and universities in response to the Common Essay prompt: Some students have a background or story that is so central to their identity that they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.   

  

*******************************************************************************

From time to time, my father asks me one question: “What does Inner Mongolia mean to you?”

At the age of seven, my reply was a landscape painting of boundless prairie, herds of running horses, crystal clear streams, and cotton candy clouds. I enjoyed the freedom of roaming the wild grassland, the legends of Genghis Khan from my herdsman grandfather, and the delicious beef as well. To me, Inner Mongolia was merely something I could show off to my primary school peers in Shanghai. It was special and beautiful, and that was it.

Five years later, I moved to Guangzhou to join my parents. Surprisingly, I acclimated much better than Dad. Although he has lived in Guangzhou since 1986, Dad still managed to keep many older grassland traditions. He often cooked lamb at home, drank kumis and wore a Mongolian gown at holidays. Though I enjoyed these traditions, I wondered why he kept them.

In 2005, he organized the charity project, “Deliver Love for Grassland.” Many people joined under his influence, including me. At the events, I met people from different backgrounds. Some, born and raised in Inner Mongolia, shared Mongolian legends with great pride; others had never visited Inner Mongolia before, but were deeply enchanted by its plain living style and nomadic culture. I saw the wistful and longing eyes when they gave their speeches. I was touched. Inner Mongolia rests in their hearts.

After the speeches, Dad once again asked me from the stage: “What does Inner Mongolia mean to you?” This time, I hesitated to give him an answer, as I had no clear image in my mind. Obviously, Inner Mongolia meant more to me than a place of interest. I cared about the Inner Mongolian girl I sponsored with lucky money I saved and scholarship I earned. I enjoyed receiving letters from her about school life and holidays there. My feeling for Inner Mongolia had grown and changed. There was something new here but I could not yet name it.

Xilinhaote Grassland 

In 2008, I turned sixteen and Dad gave me a special gift: an Inner Mongolian name. Yirusaihan means a sinuous stream in the grassland. When I asked why, he said, “You will find out the answer someday by yourself.” He also gave me another precious present. He took me to the Xilinhaote Grassland, where he was born and raised. It was located in central Inner Mongolia, three hours drive from Saihan, where my grandparents live. Along the way, Dad introduced with pride the ruin of a battlefield from Genghis Khan’s time, and the poplar forests: symbols of heroes in the grassland. He also described the collective Mongolian yurts of his childhood. I listened attentively and felt closer and more connected to the grassland.

Suddenly, Dad stopped the car and his childhood stories. In front of us was a grassy hill with some ruined hummocks and illegible stone tablets. Dad murmured: “I am back.” I realized that we had come to Dad’s old home, where my great-grandfather rested forever. At that moment, I shared Dad’s sorrow and regret. Dad fell down to his knees and worshiped with kumis by pouring it on the earth. I asked him: “Will great-grandpa know?” Dad nodded, “Surely. We all belong here.” Nearby was a shabby ovoo, a heap of stones for worship and commemoration. Dad’s eyes shone. He told me its significance to the people of the grassland. These ovoos are the spiritual homes of every Inner Mongolian.

The willow tree on top of the ovoo was tied lengths of hadas, pieces of silk symbolizing greeting and blessing, some old and worn, and some brand new. I realized that these pieces of silk not only were greeting gifts but silent commitments from homecoming descendants who understood that roots must be passed on from generation to generation.

I moved devoutly around the ovoo clockwise three times, which my Dad told me this has been a tradition for centuries. While circling the ovoo, I felt sympathetic to Dad and his Inner Mongolians. I appreciated their attachment--no, our attachment--to the grassland. Wherever we go and whatever we do, our root is the center of the circle that draws us back. It helps us feel warm and safe. And that’s my answer to Dad.

After the ritual, I added three stones on the heap, tied a blue hada to the willow tree and made a promise: I will try my best to guard my Inner Mongolian identity. Wherever I go, I am a stream in the grassland.

Steam in Inner Mongolian Grassland

Questions

Rate this essay, from 1-5, with 5 being the highest. What grade did you give it and why?

Does the writer address the prompt specifically and well?

Should admission essay be rated separately for content and style? Why or why not?

Can you tell if English is not this student’s frt language? If so, how?

Should students whose first language is not English be given more leeway when it comes to style? Why  or why not?

What have you learned about Inner Mongolia after having read this essay?

What have you learned about the student after having read this essay?

List 3 character traits that best apply to this student. What are they and why did you choose them?

Had you ever heard of Inner Mongolia before reading this essay? Do you know where it is?

Would a student like this add diversity to a college or university? Why or why not?

Would you like to have this student as a roommate? Why or why not?

Would this student bring a different perspective to class discussions?

In what way is the role of family like or different than the role you family plays in your life?  How much do you know about your roots?

Would the essay have been improved if photos were permitted to be embedded? Why or why not? 

Yurt in Inner Mongolia