Business leaders have the ability to create opportunities, build products and systems, and inspire others to action. Please describe a time you created an opportunity, built a new product or system, or inspired others to act. The example you provide and elaborate upon may come from your professional endeavors, academic pursuits or civic engagements. (500 word maximum)
Essay 1: Please discuss how you plan to achieve your short and long term career goals. What challenges will you face and how will you leverage your academic and professional experiences to achieve these goals? (500 words, 12 point font, double-spaced)。
Essay 2: Please indicate your reasons for applying to the Carroll School of Management. What unique characteristics of the Boston College MBA, MSA or MSF program resonate with you both personally and professionally? (500 words, 12 point font, double-spaced)
Essay 1: Through your resume and recommendations, we have a clear sense of your professional path to date. What are your career goals going forward, and how will the Columbia MBA help you achieve them? (Maximum 500 words)
Essay 2: Columbia Business School’s location enables us to bridge theory and practice in multiple ways: through Master Classes, internships, the New York Immersion Seminars, and, most importantly, through a combination of distinguished research faculty and accomplished practitioners. How will you take advantage of being “at the very center of business”? (Maximum 250 words)
Essay 3: CBS Matter, a key element of the School’s culture, allows the people in your Cluster to learn more about you on a personal level. What will your Clustermates be pleasantly surprised to learn about you? (Maximum 250 words)
另外，想要提醒的一点是：慎用形容词!因为，所有的形容词都很模糊。比如说，She is very intelligent，倒不如She completed the task in one third the time it took people with twice her experience来的痛快。
过分高调吹嘘自己断不可取，但自我贬低就是在自毁前程。比如，在why MSF时，常见到的写法就是I am not good at ***，或者 I lack insights of ** industry等。当然，我们确实是因为有不足，我们才去读硕士或者博士的。可是，用积极的方式，仍然可以达到你想表达同样的意思。比如：My work experiences have built a solid foundation for my career goal. However, to achieve my ** goal, I need to ** 就彻底的换了一个视角。
My grandmother hovers over the stove flame, fanning it as she melodically hums Kikuyu spirituals. She kneads the dough and places it on the stove, her veins throbbing with every movement: a living masterpiece painted by a life of poverty and motherhood. The air becomes thick with smoke and I am soon forced out of the walls of the mud-brick house while she laughs.
As for me, I wander down to the small stream at the ridge on the farm’s edge, remembering my father’s stories of rising up early to feed the cows and my mother’s memories of the sweat on her brow from hours of picking coffee at a local plantation.
Life here juxtaposes itself profoundly against the life I live in America; the scourge of poverty and flickering prosperity that never seem to coalesce. But these are the two worlds I have inherited, and my existence in one is not possible without the other. At the stream, I recollect my other life beyond this place. In America, I watch my father come home every night, beaten yet resilient from another day of hard work on the road. He sits me and my sister down, and though weary-eyed, he manages the soft smile I know him for and asks about our day.
My sister is quick to oblige, speaking wildly of learning and mischief. In that moment, I realize that she is too young to remember our original home: the old dust of barren apartment walls and the constant roar outside of life in the nighttime.
Soon after, I find myself lying in bed, my thoughts and the soft throb of my head the only audible things in the room. I ponder whether my parents — dregs floating across a diasporic sea before my time — would have imagined their sacrifices for us would come with sharp pains in their backs and newfound worries, tear-soaked nights and early mornings. But, it is too much to process. Instead, I dream of them and the future I will build with the tools they have given me.
Realizing I have mused far too long by the water’s edge, I begin to make my way back to the house. The climb up the ridge is taxing, so I carefully grip the soil beneath me, feeling its warmth surge between my fingers. Finally, I see my younger cousins running around barefoot endlessly and I decide to join their game of soccer, but they all laugh at the awkwardness of the ball between my feet. They play, scream and chant, fully unaware of the world beyond this village or even Nairobi, but I cannot blame them. My iPhone fascinates them and they ask to see my braces, intently questioning how many “shillings” they cost. I open my mouth to satisfy their curiosity, but my grandmother calls out, and we all rush to see what she has made.
When I return, the chapatis are neatly stacked on one another, golden-brown disks of sweet bread that are the completion of every Kenyan meal. Before my grandmother can ridicule me in a torrent of Kikuyu, I grab a chapati and escape to find a patch of silky grass, where I take my first bite. Each mouthful is a reminder that my time here will not last forever, and that my success or failure will become a defining example for my sister and relatives.