50 Harvard Essays

Essays are for reference only. Do NOT copy or imitate anything! 
Plagiarism is severely punished! 
voices in his essay because those voices are part of his experience abroad. Finally, 
the closing quote from Emerson’s “Nature” is well used and ties together with the 
poignant imagery of the contrasting L. L. Bean backpack and Uzi, leaving the reader 
with a vision of what the writer experienced. 
“In the Waiting Room” 
“In the Waiting Room” 
By Carlin E. Wing 
You will not think, my mind firmly informed me; you are much too busy being 
nervous to think. I sat in the mother of all waiting rooms. My pen traveled frantically 
across the pages of my black book, recording every detail of the room in fragments 
that passed for poetry. I tried to write something deeply insightful about the 
procedure I was about to undergo but failed to produce even an opening sentence. 
These were the final minutes before my hand would be separated from my pen for 
ten weeks. Even if I could not think, I needed to write. My eyes became my pen and 
I wrote: 
Waiting Room 
The name dictates the atmosphere 
The walls, papered in printed beige, 
Are dotted with pastel picture. 
Two square columns interrupt the room, 
Attended by brown plastic trash bins. 
An undecided carpet of green, black, gray, red, blue 
Mirrors the undecided feelings of the occupants. 
And none of these mask the inevitable tension of the space. 
I paused and lifted my head to stare at The Door that led to my fate. 
My fate was to have wrist surgery. Three years before, I had been told that the 
fracture in my wrist would heal. Earlier this year, I was again sitting in front of X-rays 
and MRI results listening to the doctor say that the old fracture had been an 
indication that the ligaments and tendons were torn. I could have declined to have 
surgery and never played competitive squash again. It was never an option. 
I am a jock. My competitive personality finds a safe place to release itself on a 
playing field. My strongest motivation is the prospect of doing what no one expects 
I can do. However, the hardest competition I face is that of my own expectations. 
Squash allows me to put the perfectionist in me to good use. The beauty of squash, 
and sports in general, is that I never reach an anti-climax because there is always a 
higher level to reach for. Squash requires a healthy wrist. Surgery would make my 
wrist healthy. My immediate reaction to the doctor’s words was “Yes, I want surgery. 
How soon can it be done? How long until I can play squash again? Can I watch?” 
No one understood that last part. My parents jokingly told their friends about my 
desire to observe the surgery, and the doctor was adamantly opposed to the idea. 

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