Essays
Below are some select essays I’ve helped my students polish and perfect over the last few years.
I’ve scrubbed their names from them, but the “before” and “after” view should give you a good idea of the levels of improvement my students see.
Prompt: Recount an incident or time when you experienced failure. How did it affect you, and what lessons did you learn?
Before
As teenagers, we crave approval from others. We feel sheer joy when someone “likes” our picture on Facebook, bask in the glory of encouraging comments from a teacher on a research paper, and always have to ask our friends, “Does this dress make me look fat?” We are a generation that needs constant validation, and rejection can be absolutely crushing. It’s a wonder that hundreds of teenagers across the country set themselves up for this rejection, by joining debate. At the end of every 45-minute round, one person emerges the victor, and one the loser. I have lost many rounds over the past three years I have been in the activity, and it has taught me valuable life lessons.
The very premise of the activity is criticism and judgment. Your opponent’s job is to eliminate every single one of your arguments, and the judge’s job is to analyze everything that you say and do, in order to make a decision. I have lost dozens of rounds over my debate career. The typical loss breaks down like this: I failed to attack and defend some crucial arguments, the judge saw this, he/she tells my opponent that they won, and I walk out of the room. During my early years in debate, I would spend time at tournaments replaying rounds in my head, mentally kicking myself, and reliving the panic that I felt as I realized I was being defeated. Why didn’t I catch that loophole in my first argument, or the fatal flaw in my third? I felt like a failure, like I didn’t deserve to win, and this was expressed in my future rounds. What I didn’t realize was that I didn’t lack preparation or skill; I lacked emotional control. My losses were not because of lack of preparation of skill, but rather lack of emotional control.
Before
Away, alone, and atop the city—under the the last glow of the fleeting sun, stands a shadowy figure bearing a tradition of idealism and a decayed facade. This figure was an embodiment of unity and human achievement, a product of a communities desire to lead the world. Surprisingly, my encounter with this deteriorating structure would come to define my conception of pharmaceuticals in the modern world.
The Parthenon enamors the viewer with its unexplainable perfection, much in the same way that one is struck when appreciating a virtuosic composition, a literary masterpiece or the complexities of the physical world. The sanctity of these experiences is felt with each and every goose bump, however, they are mere iterations of contentment, oftentimes masks for the shortcomings of our society. Almost as if compelled by natural law, whenever an organization, edifice or human creation is neglected, failures begin to creep up— resulting in a deviation from the perfect underpinning mathematical framework. While I am awestruck by intrinsic beauty and “perfection,” I have become fascinated in the cases when facets of society fail to adhere to such values, often times creating inefficiencies with tremendous consequences.
In particular, my internship experience allowed me to begin to mentally model conceptualize the delicate balance of information, research, and business sense needed to guide decisions which truly have global impact. I was fortunate enough to partake in a group which managed the strategic framework for a global portfolio and had the responsibility of drawing on an array of information and methodologies in order to drive impactful decision making at every stage of a pharmaceutical product. Then and there, I realized that the sublimity of mathematics is insufficient to conceptualize the impact of the business upon the entire world and produce actionable insights. However, the juxtaposition of the purity of quantitative analysis with the messy humanity of the pharmaceutical business is emulsified by a proper framework of thinking, translating between the idealized realm of mathematical thought and the authentically human world.
While we see the Parthenon as a decaying structure, our appreciation for it stems from the fact that it used mathematics as a language of expression— a vernacular for impetus, discovery, and the communication of ideas for posterity. When we encounter a decay of the human condition, we are given the opportunity to transform our sentiments of sympathy into a pursuit of innovation. This journey draws upon the expeditious evolution of technology and our collective knowledge, studying a particular case and giving rise to solutions of international amplitude and global consequence. Marcel Proust attested that, “The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes,” an aphorism echoed in my interest to diversify my knowledge, eschewing purely abstract mathematical thought in order to attempt to gain an understanding of how one can make a difference in the world.
Whether working, researching or volunteering, I have found that the most fulfilling results arise from the dynamic between an individual who creates impulse for change and a community of distinguished thinkers and problem solvers which help form perceptions as well as support the management of creativity and assessment of risk. Aside from fostering a culture of creativity and curiosity, HBS is a perennial bridge between long standing traditions and an avant-garde approach to discovery. HBS serves as an impulse for vision and creativity that augments the cultural reach of the individual, nourishes and draws strength from its diversity as well as its passionate leaders, and delegates its eminent influence on a universal register. Such a system of learning which unites the students under a common identity- irrespective of their talents and voices- allows for the development of meaningful relationships and the acumen to ask the questions which provide an optimal framework for thought.
After
Teenagers, I don’t think anyone needs to be reminded, crave approval from others. We feel joy when someone “likes” our picture on Facebook, bask in the glory of encouraging comments from a teacher on a research paper, and have to ask our friends (even when we already know the answer), “is this outfit stylish or a disaster?” We are a generation in need of constant validation, and rejection can be crushing to us. Given this, it’s a wonder that hundreds of teenagers across the country set themselves up for this type of rejection (on a regular basis, no less) by joining debate. At the end of every 45-minute round, there is one victor, and one loser. I have lost many rounds of debate over the past three years, and these losses have taught me a fundamental lesson about my personality.
The very premise of the activity is criticism and judgment. Your opponent’s job is to eliminate every single one of your arguments, and the judge’s job is to analyze everything that you say and do in order to make a decision. At some tournaments, I experienced failure more often than not. My losses were predictable in their consistency: I failed to attack a crucial argument; my opponent, confident in his or her impending victory, didn’t hesitate in responding. The judge nodded in agreement with my competitor; victory seemed impossible, so I protested ineffectively in my next speech. The judge made a quick decision in favor of my opponent, and I walked out of the room, devastated. Why didn’t I catch that loophole in my first argument, or the fatal flaw in my third?
In those situations, I felt like I didn’t deserve to win–and this was expressed in my future rounds. I continued to fail, despite any amount of preparation. I had spent weeks during the summer at debate camp, and hours at home reading articles and editing my cases, to no avail. At tournaments, I would replay rounds in my head, mentally kicking myself and reliving the panic that I felt as I was being defeated.
What I finally realized was that I wasn’t unprepared, and I didn’t lack skill–I lacked emotional control, and I had to learn to check my emotions. I trained myself to separate the emotional and intellectual components of the activity. At the end of the day, my opponent and I have the same goal: to win as many rounds as possible. I soon realized that criticisms within debate rounds are not personal attacks, and interpreting them this way would only be detrimental. Emotional reactions are a distraction, an energy vampire, a confidence killer. Instead of berating myself during difficult rounds, I learned to analyze my position and try to recover. Moreover, I learned to accept the truth that a loss in debate is not a rejection of me as a person, but rather of my performance during a 45-minute period. In so doing, I allowed failure in debate to teach me to better control my emotions, which in turn allows me to achieve my goals every day.
As we review your application, what more would you like us to know as we consider your candidacy for the Harvard Business School MBA program?
After
When I first saw the Parthenon in person, I was struck silent by its unexplainable perfection, much in the same way that one can be rendered speechless by a virtuosic composition, literary masterpiece, or the sublime beauty of nature at its extremes. What resonated with me even more than its mathematical perfection was its decrepit condition. The irony of seeing a building so apirational fall into disrepair and decay moved me deeply. My encounter with the Parthenon would, surprisingly, come to define my understanding of the relationship between mathematics and pharmaceuticals in the modern world.
My internship at Pfizer allowed me to begin to mentally model the delicate balance of information, research, and business sense needed to guide decisions which truly have global impact. I was fortunate enough to work in a group which managed the strategic frameworks of a global portfolio and had the responsibility of drawing on an array of information and methodologies in order to help my team’s decision-making at every stage of the life cycle of a pharmaceutical product. In the quantitative data space, analyzing supply chain strategies dependent on the availability of raw materials, understanding product compliance within specific markets, assessing epidemic data, and measuring the effectiveness of particular molecules are all standard tasks performed independently. When I considered these tasks together, the relationships amongst the streams of data were continually obscured by a complex and essentially unquantifiable human factor. Then and there, I realized that the sublime language of mathematics is inadequate when trying to gauge the effect of business decisions upon people, mainly due to its inability to account for the organic unpredictability of human behaviors as they pertain to the spread of disease. The rigor of mathematical analysis by itself, in other words, wasn’t as effective as when this analysis was combined with people’s “human intuition.”
In leading the implementation of a statistical forecasting model for product demand, it became apparent to me that collaboration across strategy teams was essential to creating a streamlined approach that would support multiple processes. When shaping a solution to the demands of various groups within the company, the differences between the austerity of quantitative analysis and the dynamic humanism of decision-making in the pharmaceutical business can be combined into an asset greater than the sum of its parts. This synthesis allows adaptable solutions to diseases to be scaled globally, not only changing the lives of those afflicted, but forever changing humanity's relationship with a disease.
Whether working, researching or volunteering, I have found that progress stems from the dynamic between an individual who creates the impulse for change and a community of thinkers and problem solvers with a diversity of perspective who help to implement this change. In addition to fostering a culture of creativity and curiosity, HBS provides a bridge between long-standing traditions and an avant-garde approach to discovery. HBS serves as a facilitator for vision and creativity as it disseminates its cultural influence always with an eye on the betterment of society. Such a system of learning, which unites its students under a common identity, allows for the development of meaningful relationships and an atmosphere that prompts the questions that provide an optimal framework for analytical thought.
While today we see the Parthenon as a decayed structure, the idealism and technical innovation utilized to create it in the first place vastly overshadow this physical degradation. Using mathematics as a mechanism of change, a civilization was able to communicate its ideas and transmit those ideas through time to us, an impact that far surpasses the Parthenon’s practical use as a structure. The Greeks who built the Parthenon had to solve many different problems, but they also had to negotiate solutions across entirely disparate domains. Pharmaceutical breakthroughs require both the fortuitous evolution of technology and the application of humanity’s collective knowledge. Marcel Proust once said, “The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes,” an idea that I have returned to over and over in my thinking. If my team had tried to implement a solution using only the cold, analytical word of mathematical thought, we would have failed. Likewise, if we had only used humanistic analysis so commonly implemented in the world of pharmaceuticals, we would also have failed–indeed, our success could only be attained by combining mathematical analysis with “humanized data.” Just as the Greeks had learned thousands of years ago, and I was only beginning to discover: true innovation requires input from a multitude of domains, as well as cohesion between those domains. Working across disciplines requires us to be open-minded, and it is this open-mindedness that is our greatest asset: allowing us to see connections between different areas, to move away from outdated strategies and modes of thinking, and to allow the bud of innovation to flower.