4 Great Personal Statement Examples (and Why They Worked)
If you’re applying to college, you’ll almost certainly face the dreaded personal statement essay. Whether you’re submitting through the Common App, Coalition Application, or a college-specific portal, your personal statement is one of the most important parts of your application.
The good news? The very best essays don’t require life-changing experiences. In fact, the strongest personal statements often come from everyday moments, like a memorable meal, a family story, or a walk through your neighborhood.
In this article, we’ll look at four real personal statement examples that helped students get into top schools, and we’ll explain why each essay worked.
What is the personal statement?
A college personal statement is your chance to show admissions officers who you are beyond grades and test scores. It’s a short essay that reveals your voice, your character, and the values you’ll bring to a campus community.
The Common App allows up to 650 words.
The Coalition App caps essays at 550 words.
Most prompts are broad, giving you freedom to write about almost anything.
The key is to focus on specific, authentic stories that highlight your perspective.
Personal Statement Examples That Worked
Now that you know what the personal statement is and why it matters, let’s look at some real examples of successful college essays. These four essays helped students get accepted to top schools. After each essay, you’ll find an explanation of why it worked, so you can apply the same strategies in your own writing.
Essay #1 by Kenny – Cornell University
“Vote Paul Lee for District Leader!” My face brightened as morning commuters passed by and took flyers from my hand. As they turned the corner, they carelessly tossed the flyers away. My brows furrowed. Is this what I woke up at seven in the morning for? To hand out flyers to indifferent strangers who won’t give the time of day, nevertheless a second glance? I was just a background character, a boy handing out flyers in the scene of a lively street. I was a mannequin, easily passed by unnoticed.
After my flyer shift had ended, my boss took me out to lunch at a diner. My eyes were darting back and forth, unsure of the situation. My boss slouched casually in his seat across from me. I had only met him twice before and instinctively, I began surreptitiously examining him. I slyly lowered my menu and peered over the “wall.” He wore a simple white polo shirt and his greying hair was brushed back in an old 60s hairstyle. He seemed like just an average Chinese man. The waiter came and pulled me out of my idle thoughts. As we made our orders, he put down his menu, and said, “how about a story?”
He opened with a story about his stint with the army, when he brashly enlisted at the Chinatown recruitment center. Next was a lighthearted tale of his moment of “stardom” when he debuted on the silver screen in Hollywood. Finally, the curtains closed with a story of an “extreme makeover” of his parents’ antique store to a game shop.
I vicariously experienced the vivid fragments of his past through his stories. I felt the hope and energy of a young man slightly short in stature, but big in heart, enlisting in the army, the excitement of a risk taker trying to make it big in Hollywood, and the freedom of a high spirited man who followed his hobby and turned his parents’ antique store to a game shop.
In my mind Paul Lee had transcended the typical mannequin of an average Chinese man. I had inadvertently made the same oversight as the people that passed me on the street. I fit him into a general mold without trying to see him as an individual, just as they did to me. Looking around me, I had been blind. Every person in the room had their own unique story and character just like Paul had his, and I had mine.
Upon my realization, I found the courage to convey my own unique character to Paul through my ideas. There is a balance between practicality, creativity, and fun that I have come to hold at the highest value in my life. I proposed to Paul an idea that was the embodiment of all three: to host carnival games at the Pavilion with a voter registration stand on the side. Instead of discarding my idea as I had expected, Paul encouraged it. Throughout the next week, the volunteers worked to create flyers, brainstorm ideas for games, and gather prizes. However, on the day it all came together, it rained. Discouraged, I looked to Paul only to see that he was still in high spirits. In that moment I knew I couldn’t be the same defeated, overlooked mannequin handing out flyers in the street. Optimism and vitality surged through the mannequin within me. I wiped the scowl from my face and proudly presented to him the six registration forms we received that day with a smile. The mannequin had come to life; I was no longer a background character but the center of the scene.
Why Kenny’s Essay Works
Key Takeaways:
Demonstrates initiative, creativity, and problem-solving.
Focuses on Kenny’s own actions and growth, not just Paul Lee.
Reveals optimism and resilience in the face of setbacks.
Full Analysis:
Remember, regardless of the prompt, the essay is about you. The essays let colleges know what they will be missing if they don’t admit you. In essays about influences, students sometimes make a stronger case for the person who has influenced them than for themselves. Kenny avoids this common mistake.
From the start, Kenny shows us his initiative and enthusiasm as we hear his voice campaigning, “Vote Paul Lee for District Leader!” Kenny gives us enough detail to understand how Mr. Lee has influenced him, but he keeps the essay focused on his own actions. He takes a unique approach to voter registration, setting up carnival games to attract registrants.
Through his actions, we see a fun-loving, creative problem solver with perseverance and attention to detail. His story gives us strong reasons to believe in him as a college student.
Essay #2 by Sarah – Smith College
New York City, 9 pm. Friends are laughing in the next room squeezed around the dinner table, as I try to whip something up. I put the water to boil, adding salt. As I wait, the steam begins to twist, to twirl, filling up the kitchen. I pause to wipe the sweat from my brow.
At eight o’clock in the morning my shirt is already moist. Sweat rolls down my face, every inch of my body. A typical morning in Perugia.
Sauté the garlic in olive oil on medium heat.
The gravel in the driveway crunches and crackles, “E’ arrivato zio Mario!” I run barefoot, almost tripping down the stairs, all the way to his car arms outstretched. His hair, grayer this year, falls over his tanned face. His hands rest on his belt, one finger cut off above the joint. I pull on my boots and he climbs onto the tractor. He hauls me onto his lap holding me tightly. The tractor roars, an olive branch lightly grazes my face, the grasshoppers go silent. At the back of the field, Mario climbs up a ladder and starts trimming the tips of the branches, the polloni. I take them and pile them in heaps. The trees are brimming with olives this year.
Chop the tomatoes, put them to simmer with the garlic, add salt and pepper. At noon, I walk back towards the house to find my Nonna in the garden, wearing a flowered apron. She tells me, puoi portarmi il cestino un po’ più vicino? “bring that bucket a little closer, would you?” She fills it up with plump, juicy, purplish-red tomatoes, a meal in themselves.
Pour in the linguini, stir fresh basil into the tomatoes. We break off stems of basil. Nonna says, vedi si devono prendere quelli pieni di fiori, così la pianta può crescere. “See we have to take the ones with the most flowers on them, so the plant grows.” We climb the small hill with a full bucket of pomodori. It’s hot.
Dice the mozzarella, strain the linguini, pour the sauce over them, and add the mozzarella.
I follow Nonna into the kitchen trying to avoid the gang of mothers, uncles and aunts. I reach for the mozzarella and it melts in my mouth; creamy, smooth, dripping, flavor that overloads my senses. I thought I was so clever, but as I turn around, “Sarah can you set the table? And stop eating all the mozzarella!” They caught me. I take the tablemats and retreat to the step outside. The neighbor’s cat rubs against my legs. I tear off a small piece of cheese and feed it to her.
Serve right out of the pot. “Hey guys,” I call over their laughter, “help me set the table, dinner is ready!”
Why Sarah’s Essay Works
Key Takeaways:
Organizes her essay around a recipe structure, making it memorable.
Uses sensory details and dialogue to bring moments to life.
Shows character through action and description rather than telling.
Full Analysis:
The ultimate goal of a college essay is to reveal who you are as a human being. Simple moments, like a spaghetti dinner with friends, can say a lot about a person. Sarah organizes her essay around the steps of a recipe and shows us two moments from different parts of her life.
By structuring it this way, she removes interpretation and judgment from her writing. She never states a lesson she learned or tells us what traits she wants us to see. Instead, the reader connects with her directly.
From stealing bites of mozzarella to dialogue in Italian to the description of her uncle with one finger cut off above the joint, Sarah offers vivid details that make her essay stand out. It’s memorable, personal, and impossible to forget.
Essay #3 by Michael – Howard University
There was a girl and her name was Michael. This girl first picked up a camera when she was seven. It was a point-and-shoot camera, but it was hers. The upgraded camera she got for her 15th birthday was hers also. And so was my book. One summer she was in Florida. Her hair was dripping from the pool water, her skin shimmered in the blazing sunlight, and her eyes squinted at her stack of books. She picked the smallest of the bunch; she picked mine. The one labeled “Hawthorne.” It only had one story and she read it quickly. “Hm,” she said as she finished the first time. She said, “What?” when she finished the second time, and at the third ending she raised her sunglasses over her head and squinted at the sun. “Beautiful,” she murmured. She grabbed a pencil and wrote, “There is no absolute beauty. There is only what you make of it” on the last page of my story.
Back home she was entering another photo contest. This one had a theme of beauty. She booked the studio for two hours and brought in her friend. Her friend had high cheekbones, emerald eyes, curly red hair, and lips that sat outward. She was short but had the body of a dancer. When she moved everyone watched, mouths slightly ajar. Her muscles flexed and released with ease. Michael placed the girl in a wooden chair, turned her face upward toward the enormous lights and took a photo of every angle she could possibly get. She switched from black and white to high resolution, back to black and white. When the photos developed she never picked the winning shot for herself. “This is the one,” said her teacher.
“Wow, you don’t need to take any more pictures, Michael, this is it,” said her peers. Michael went home that night and gazed at the photo. Her brow wrinkled and eyes narrowed. She put the photo in her drawer and went to sleep. The next day Michael set out with her most basic camera, the one that is always on her person. She’s walking up 34th street and sees a woman. This woman had dirty skin and dirty clothes. Her blackened flingers held a sign that said, “I’m hungry.” Her eyes were vacant, and she looked to the side. Her eyes were trained in that direction and never moved. Michael took out her camera and took a quick picture, just one. She went to develop it that same day and put it in a folder to take home. On her bed, cross-legged, she sat looking at the red-haired girl. Her eyes cast upward, her cheek bones highlighted; Michael’s mom gazed at the picture and said, “That should be in Vogue.” Michael pulled out the other picture, of the hungry woman and placed it next to the other. Her eyes widened as she saw how the light created a shadow over the woman’s face. There was no dirt, just an eye looking away. “Now that,” her mother said, “shouldn’t be. Easy choice, huh?”
“Yes, it is,” Michael said. She placed her finger over the shadow and tapped the photo four times. She smiled. She folded the color image in half and put it in her drawer; she placed the photo of the woman in a protective folder and placed it in her bag. As she laid down that night she smirked into the glow of the TV. She said, “There is no beauty. There is only what we make of it,” and closed her eyes.
Why Michael’s Essay Works
Key Takeaways:
Uses Magnet, Pivot, Glow storytelling structure to hold attention.
Grabs the reader with a surprising opening.
Ends with a clear sense of character and independence.
Full Analysis:
Great college essays draw you in from the beginning, take you on a clear journey, and leave you wanting more at the end. At Revision Learning, we call this structure Magnet, Pivot, and Glow.
The Magnet here is the surprising introduction: a girl named Michael, written in the third person. This unexpected opening makes the reader curious.
The Pivot comes when Michael has to make a choice—between two photographs, one representing conventional beauty and one showing a deeper truth. Her decision reveals her values.
Finally, the Glow keeps us in the moment and ends with her authentic voice: “There is no beauty. There is only what we make of it.” We come to understand Michael as a strong, thoughtful young woman who resists pressure and stays true to her beliefs. The influence of Hawthorne is clear, but never overexplained.
Essay #4 by Romain – University of Chicago
Try to find us on these pages of our lives, and I believe we are hard to distinguish.
As Wenda often reminds me, travelling allows us to discover who we really are by giving us the opportunity to blend in and inspire ourselves from imitating the best in other people. Here and there I collect tools that I find useful—rope, candles, an under-water compass, along with open-mindedness, humility, responsibility, drive, and curiosity—and add them to the arsenal I carry along the road in my backpack and in myself.
One evening, after an intense day of travelling in Beijing, walking along the Great Wall and contemplating the remnants of China’s glorious history in the blistering cold, a couple of my friends and I decided to end the day by celebrating our western heritage at the nearest McDonald’s. The dark cold night had sent the streets’ beggars into the warm 24/7 restaurant. The passive look on employees’ faces as they cleaned the improvised hotel suggested this happened on a regular basis. People were lying or sleeping on every chair and bench, so we settled on the floor, in the middle of the room. We ordered a few extra burgers, and after a few bites, one by one the beggars woke up and asked us to share. We insisted they join our circle. At first they resisted. As we exposed our broken Chinese, they opened up and challenged us at a game like Yatzee, that required throwing 5 dice around and scoring high multiples. Next some young Western and Chinese kids joined in. The better generation at languages and breaking social barriers, the kids took the game to new dimensions. We ended up spending the night in our sleeping bags on the floor under the disdainful stare of the confused McDonald employees. In the end our American burgers gave us an authentic taste of China.
When an environment becomes too familiar, we change pages. Whether it was wearing the same letters as my American brothers in California, acting the part of a professional fund manager when interviewing the executive board of major corporations, or tutoring Chinese children in English, the Waldo within me adapts, challenges himself and discovers something new about the people around him.
Who knows where life will take me next? I have heard of a particular platform of intellectual and cultural exchange that gathers the most interesting minds from all around the world. The institution is praised for its ability to convey experience and wisdom through round tables of interaction and Socratic rhetoric. I believe it is a place where, as my Chicago family and friends would say, “finding passionate people is easier done than said.” In other words, it is/would be a wonderful page to be on, completely invisible and singular at the same time
Why Romain’s Essay Works
Key Takeaways:
Cleverly answers the “Where’s Waldo?” prompt by becoming Waldo.
Uses a vivid story from Beijing at McDonald’s to show character.
Balances personal reflection with a specific connection to UChicago.
Full Analysis:
With a creative prompt like “Where’s Waldo?” it’s easy to get lost in abstraction. The two biggest mistakes students make are staying too general or writing about ideas instead of actions. Romain avoids this by literally becoming Waldo.
His essay centers on a night spent at McDonald’s in Beijing, where he and friends shared food and games with local people experiencing homelessness. This scene reveals him as compassionate, curious, and community-minded.
In the fourth paragraph, Romain broadens the scope to include experiences in California and China, while the fifth ties his journey directly to the University of Chicago. But the heart of the essay remains the McDonald’s moment—specific, memorable, and character-driven.
This combination of narrative technique and meaningful detail makes his essay stand out while also showing why he would thrive at UChicago.
Best Practices for Your Personal Statement
Want to write a personal statement as strong as these examples? Keep these three rules in mind:
Strong storytelling — Use vivid description, detail, and dialogue.
Unique perspective — Show how specific moments shaped who you are.
Authentic voice — Write in a way that sounds like you.
Remember: after grades and test scores, your essay is the most important part of your application. Done well, it can make admissions officers say, “We need this student on campus.”
Looking for step-by-step guidance?
Create a free Revision Learning platform account here to learn how to turn your experiences into powerful essays. You can also check out our different 1:1 college essay coaching packages here.