Johns Hopkins Example Essays & Supplements

2018 Johns Hopkins University Accepted Essays and Supplements

Post Image

As one of the top colleges in the nation, admission into Johns Hopkins University is extremely competitive. Below are an accepted Common App essay and supplements for Johns Hopkins University written by a real student who was accepted by Johns Hopkins. The writing portion of college applications is becoming increasingly important in order to stand out, so we'll be taking a look at what made these essays and supplements a successful portion of the application in the analysis sections.

EssaysThatWorked uses real accepted essays and supplements to exemplify and teach what makes an effective, competitive, and strong college essay. There are five main principles of a strong essay: Central Idea, Voice, Storytelling, Analysis, and Readability. These elements in combination work to make a compelling, interesting, and powerful essay that showcases your voice and helps you stand out from the crowd of applicants.

Please note: all names, cities, and other personal information in essays and supplements are replaced so as to keep the author's privacy.

DISCLAIMER: EssaysThatWorked does NOT condone nor tolerate plagiarism of any sort. Do NOT copy, reuse, repost, or modify ANY part of the written works posted on this site. These essays and/or supplements have already been reviewed by colleges, and any attempts to reuse any part will very likely result in a rejection of admission.

Johns Hopkins Common App Personal Statement #1

Written by Anonymous Student Verified Real Acceptance
PROMPT:
Discuss an accomplishment, event, or realization that sparked a period of personal growth and a new understanding of yourself or others. (250-650 words)
I remove the latex gloves from my hands. I oscillate between looking at the rats enclosed in the acoustic startle chambers to my right, and my team project advisor to my left. A silver lab table, cluttered with syringes, vials, and countless notes, separates me and him. A lab rat’s cage sits at the center like a cornucopia. I begin to sit on a cold lab stool, and upon confirming that the Startle Reflex software is indeed running, I settle into my seat. Though the atmosphere smells faintly of urine, I am comfortable.
These lazy afternoons collecting data defined my experience at the Governor’s School in the Sciences. Our team would spend hours with the acoustic startle chambers, startling rats in the presence of anxiogenic pheromones from other rodent urine in order to evaluate their altered behavioral responses — freezing, excessive grooming, urination, that sort of thing. Turns out, scaring rats enough to pee their pants takes a long time.
My team project advisor, [James], made these long hours, not only bearable, but pivotal in my understanding of the applied sciences. [James] was the youngest counselor at GSS and was definitely the easiest to talk to. He would always entertain me and my peers with tales of his college club’s calls for divestment in the fossil fuel industry. He relayed to us an inspiring tale: one day, while completing some organic chemistry assignment, [James] felt the commanding urge to start a protest. Against the backdrop of the divisive presidential election of 2016, [James] felt increasingly frustrated by a general feeling of listlessness amid a rapidly transforming world. He eventually found environmental activism, drawing on his scientific background, as a vehicle to make tangible change in the global landscape. And while [James]’s angsty musings were easy to tease, always ornamented with quintessential frat-boy idiosyncrasies, like the overuse of the words “bro” and “yo,” they forced me to consider my own passions in the context of scientific inquiry. [James], motivated by the pregnant intersection between environmental science and civic engagement, oriented my own career goals in a very profound way.
Prior to GSS, I had always found myself trying to mediate between my interests in public policy and science, from obsessively reading about America’s diplomatic relations to Middle East, to madly teaching myself about the neuroscientific underpinnings of behavior. [James]’s endeavors, his involvement in activism while studying science, revealed an entire sphere between two worlds where my own passions in both could finally coincide. The fruitful conversations I had with [James] demanded that I consider the pragmatic applications of the research we were doing, engaging with the real world in the same manner he had.
Researching chemical signaling in rodents was an exploration of the social transmission of fear in humans — a study with numerous political applications, especially in today’s age of demagogic political rhetoric. Indeed, a rat gaining awareness of a fearful situation is analogous to a human’s awareness of a fearful situation; hysteria in large groups has often lent to social chaos, falling victim to the same conspecific negotiations as in our rodent study. Application of our study in a political context made me realize that my interests are interwoven, though kaleidoscopic.
At GSS, whether it be in the lectures I listened to or the labs I did, my professors borrowed ideas from all fields alike; political implications arising in neuroscientific research, cultural anthropology in human evolution — even philosophical inquiries appeared in courses on special relativity. I loved every academic excursion onto these intellectual, peripheral avenues, as they always contextualized science in a broader sense. This interdisciplinary way of thinking is where I have found my passions to reside, inspired by [James]’s ruminations on activism amid a place of such intellectual vitality; I know this is, not only where complex solutions to the world's problems reside, but where my future does too.

Johns Hopkins Common App Personal Statement #2

Written by Anonymous Student Verified Real Acceptance
PROMPT:
Discuss an accomplishment, event, or realization that sparked a period of personal growth and a new understanding of yourself or others. (250-650 words)
I close my eyes and find myself within a forest of lights.
The diamond leaves of gnarled oak trees throw spectrums of color onto mounds of frosty snow that gleam melancholily under the moonlight. The leaves chime as wind violently rustles them in a haunting melody. I splinter a leaf off its branch and inspect the shard of my illusion, eyes dancing with amusement.
I breathe a cloud into the nipping air and half­consciously crunch through a path of snow as it languorously carves its way through the forest. I walk to the sound of clinking, broken gems as they scratch my ankles, and wonder what circuitry must be alight in my wits to create this particular fantasy. I stumble along in hope of unravelling this enigma, my mind guiding me on its own inclination.
The path opens up at last, and I approach a cabin shrouded by thick fog. The door opens for me and I wonder at the foreboding as I sit in a cherry­wood chair and sip a sparkling chartreuse drink. My feet swing idly as I listen to the forest’s indiscernible whispers, wondering whether my mind would ever allow me to unstitch its knots.
As I dwell in my worries, a cold hand reaches from behind me and taps my shoulder.
I jerk away, fear bubbling in my amygdala as I look into the nonexistent eyes of my intruding visitor.
The moon illuminates a blob of pink squish as it draws back slowly, points its spindly hands towards my drink and asks: “Could I have some of that?” I wordlessly offer the eerie thing some Mountain Dew. I watch as it eagerly chugs the drink, and think, Ah. My mind is definitely acting strangely today.
The blob wipes its invisible mouth with its nonexistent sleeve. I ask: “What are you?”
It shakes its head, invigorated with soda. “S’pose it’s natural not to recognize me.” The thing smiles ominously and declares itself as my brain. I stare mutely at the absurd being. I wonder at how I will be able to paint it in my waking state.
The blob tells me to stop looking at it so suspiciously. “I can prove it,” It says. I tell it, please, go ahead.
Suddenly we are back in the glowing forest. “Diamonds? Pah!” The blob dismisses them. Instantly, the leaves turn solid gold, the snow melts, and the wintry world is thrown into a blistering summer.
The blob laughs heartlessly. “Your cortex is under my control,” it says smugly.
I blink under the sudden intensity and acknowledge its greatness, humbled by its supremacy. “I heard you had a question for me?” It taps its invisible ears knowingly.
This is perfect, I think. Here I was all this time wandering through my mind, searching for the answer, when now I could ask my brain for it directly. The blob wriggles its invisible brows as it waits.
I open my mouth and ask it my most crucial question.
It smiles that wicked smile. It laughs that sinful laugh. Then that insufferable blob wakes me up.
As I sit up in the dark and rub my bleary eyes, I am vaguely aware of the deep­set unfulfillment settling itself inside me. I yawn and plop back into bed, the soft red glow of my alarm clock indicating that it is still before midnight. I cover myself with my blanket, and drift back into sleep to continue my search.

Johns Hopkins Supplements and Short Answers #1

Written by Anonymous Student Verified Real Acceptance
PROMPT:
Successful students at Johns Hopkins make the biggest impact by collaborating with others, including peers, mentors, and professors. Talk about a time, in or outside the classroom, when you worked with others and what you learned from the experience. (300-400 words)
There is something intimate, almost profound, in mirroring the movements of about 14 people around you.
From paralleling the idiosyncrasies of a vibraphone player’s smile to the nuances of a marimba player’s wrist movements, it is difficult to achieve total nonverbal communication in a band’s front ensemble. The result, however, is an infinitely rewarding one; the visual mosaic we design — whether inside the confines of a gymnasium floor or on an expansive stretch of turf on a football field — is akin to the aural one we create as well. This tapestry, while ostensibly uniform, is woven with the gradations of every player’s physical form, their quirks quickly adopted by the whole ensemble.
Indeed, pantomiming and performing become one in the same in the stationary percussive marching arts. This mimicry demands a sacred conviction that every player will commit to maintaining the mosaic that we’ve worked so hard to build. The tense moment when each player waves his or her mallets above the board permits no hesitation; there is no room to confirm the camaraderie between players before striking the keys. We are forced to trust that everything will fall into place, and the tapestry will unfold as it should to captivate our audience.
I’ve learned a lot from playing mallet percussion across the ensembles offered at my school, but the most important thing I’ve learned is to relax, and allow the hours me and my peers have put into rehearsal take their course. I am a notoriously anxious person, obsessed with precision and perfection. Performing is anything but precise; it’s fluid and expressive. When the drum major counts off, I cannot worry about my stance behind the board, or if how much torque I am applying to the first stroke is the same as the person next to me. I must be unapologetically confident.
The faith that I’ve cultivated in my peers in creating this musical tapestry has translated to an increased faith in myself and my own abilities. No longer am I afraid to explore new talents, or take intellectual excursions into fields unbeknownst to me. I am free to teach myself anything, from the entirety of Claude Debussy's works on piano to the John Cena theme song on recorder. Indeed, contributing to something greater than myself has fundamentally changed who I am for the better.

University of California, Los Angeles
Stanford University
Brown University
University of Pennsylvania
Emory University