Every college applicant should have an understanding of what a personal statement is. Briefly speaking, a personal statement is an integral part of a college application where the applicant reveals what kind of person they are so that the admission committee could know better whom they are accepting into their academic community. The student-to-be is to describe their values, non-academic background and other factors seemingly unrelated to studies make them an ideal amendment to the school. A personal statement is supposed to amend other documents in your application, not rehash them. As such, it includes information about you that the admission committee won’t find in the academic-related documents.
Many students tend to think that their academic success is the decisive factor for the admission committee’s decision as to whether or not to enroll them. As such, they often fail to give it the attention it deserves and end up writing an essay with nothing more than random bits and pieces about themselves. This may prove to be a critical mistake because, reportedly, schools take personal essays more and more into account when deciding about each particular applicant. That’s why, as an applicant, you shouldn’t treat this task lightly but write your personal statement in all attention.
Unlike with other documents for your college application or with other types of academic writing, there will hardly be any common guidelines that could work for everybody 100% - because of the individual nature of such writing. There are, of course, the three-part structure, the overall literacy, and other general guidelines, but even those can be sacrificed for the purpose of conveying the message you want to convey in your personal statement. As such, we strongly feel like it’s a more constructive idea for you to take a look at some of the better examples of personal statements for inspiration.
Even though I look like your regular white Caucasian, my given name – Zbigniew – is quite indicative of my national background, - so much so that I can’t even shorten or “americanize” it otherwise, like some of my peers do. On the one hand, it should improve my social life because it presents people a reason to get curious about me, start talking to me, etc., - all without any special effort from my side. On the other hand, people get so curious that they don’t stop to ask some questions that make me feel awkward, to say the least.
The best example of such a question would be the one about my religion, and there are two reasons for that. The first one is that, the way I was raised, faith and religion are intimate aspects of one’s life, not something one goes around waving proudly like some exhibitionist pervert. The second reason is that it’s a challenge for me to answer this question myself. Both my parents are practicing Roman Catholic, but to their credit, I've never any pressure from their side. They have never been too keen on indoctrinating me into their religious practices, so I’ve been left to figure it out for myself.
Science has always fascinated me, and without humbling myself, I can say that I’ve always excelled at it, too. So, to answer the question about religion, atheism and agnosticism were the first possible answers to pop up in my mind, and Roman Catholicism was always somewhere much lower on my list of possible answers. Admittedly, my fascination with science was only part of the reason for that. Another part is the ongoing flow of embarrassing news about the Catholic Church. Pedophilia-related scandals about Catholic Church officials are only some of the most vivid examples. Some other shameful news goes largely unnoticed by our mainstream media, but they make me feel embarrassed nevertheless – for example, about the church-sanctioned burnings of sci-fi and fantasy books in Poland, my ancestral land. Information like that was in large discord with my family's views on Catholic faith. According to the latter, our faith encourages charity, compassion, and peace. It left me with a sharp discord and more questions than my teen brain could answer.
It all made me reluctant to admit my Catholic heritage to other people and even myself, even though, as I have mentioned, my given name clearly indicates my Polish ancestry, and unlike many other nations, us Poles don’t have any other religions or denominations in our culture. That’s why, given my science focus, it made sense to me answer questions about religion the way I’ve described. Still, answers like “atheism” or “agnosticism,” made me feel hot and my heart race.
As it becomes clear, science and engineering have always been something more to me than merely ways to address some practical issues. For me, it was something that gives humanity – and, by extension, me personally – a sense of purpose and value, a universal justification of our existence. As it’s easy to guess, discussions in the science classes, as well as science-related discussions outside class, would often lead me to issues broader than any science class ever covers. One can say that I often got carried away into the realms of philosophy or even metaphysics. Often, the teacher would pull me back to the ground – not to distract the rest of the class from learning that what’s supposed to be learned on a science class. Sometimes, however, the teacher would answer my “irrelevant” questions, and I would listen in all attention.
One time, we were talking about artificial intelligence, its prospects, opportunities, and implications. When discussing the machine’s ability to educate itself, we concluded that, when perfected, A.I. could, in fact, turn out to be the last truly human invention. In other words, as soon as machines learn how to educate themselves, human contribution to the scientific and technological progress will become unnecessary. Since I believed that such contribution was the purpose and value of human existence, the conclusion about its insignificance in the not-so-distant future troubled me, to say the least. It challenged my very understanding of how human existence is justified.
Understandably, my ethical and scientific concerns were growing increasingly since then. My sense of value as a part of humanity was being shaken, along with my whole worldview. If science itself can replace humanity’s role in its progress in the near future, then why is there a humanity? I knew I had to look for an answer elsewhere.
As it is in my nature, I addressed this issue to my teacher, and all she answered was “Science doesn’t deal with questions like these.” It was enough to trigger me. It was then that I realized that I was looking for a scientific answer to a non-scientific question. The uniqueness and, hence, the value of humankind, don’t lie in the realm of science, but instead, it’s more of a metaphysical or, in other words, religious nature.
Today, I realize the transformation that my attitude toward religion had to undergo. It’s essentially different from that of my parents and their parents, or, at least, from the way I had imagined it to be. My religious conviction is that a human being has a soul that endows us with a value which lies in its innate sense of good and bad, right and wrong, etc. Today, when asked about my faith, I proudly answer that I’m a Catholic, but my heart still quickens, and I still begin to feel hot. The difference is that now, my answer is an expected one but by no means an exhaustive one. Moreover, faith isn’t only about endowing human existence with value anymore. On a more intimate level, my faith helps me connect with my heritage. It also allows me to have a better understanding of the fallacies of those who share my faith, to deal with them, and to enforce the virtues that it praises. It gives me a brighter, more optimistic outlook into the future where technology surpasses humankind’s ability to discover and create, the future that’s as morally sound as it is technologically advanced.
12 is the number of my all-time idol and role model, Easton Stick. It’s also how many letters I have in my full name. To top it all off, this was my age when I started high school, and the events crucial to my worldview began to unfold.
As a brief backstory, I’ll mention that I skipped first and sixth grades, but through such shortened studying period, I’ve had quite a fair share of schooling. Due to my father’s job, we have to travel a lot and relocate often. So, I’ve had the luck to attend five schools, including two types of homeschooling: at home and a co-op. As it’s easy to guess, such pace doesn’t exactly allow one to grow a particular attachment to a subject, a teacher, or anything or anyone for that matter. Such impossibility of attachment led to ultimate boredom and desperation.
Most likely, this desperation was what led to the change of attitude that I have experienced during my last year of homeschooling. I was finally free to move in any direction and pick the right pace for myself, too, which rhymed with the lifestyle that I got used to with a family like mine. I would devour tomes upon tomes from Isaac Newton, Henry Gray, and Niels Bohr to George Orwell, John Steinbeck, and Bernard Shaw. I had fun writing 10-page papers about the political layout of Ancient Athens, the key similarities and differences and similarities of economic systems of the North and the South before the Civil War, and anything in between and beyond. Putting it briefly, it was the most intense and fruitful year for my studies so farm – arguably the most enjoyable one, too.
Winged with enthusiasm, I welcomed high school and the opportunities it gave me – to study two foreign languages, to take sports classes, etc. To their credit, my new fellow students welcomed me warmly, too. Still, I failed to get a sense of peerage and couldn’t put my finger on why exactly. One might say that, because of the age gap, it felt like I was more of a cute little brother to them than a friend and an equal. At the time, I concluded that it’s because of my academic focus which I had been prioritizing over my social life. So, by spring I made a decision that made the most sense to me at the time – to join the sports teams. Looking back, it seems like wishful thinking to imagine myself achieving similar academic success as my classmates who were two years older than me and, of course, taller than my 5’2’’. Naturally, I spent most of my time on the bench. Admittedly, it did allow me to get closer with the guys, but it also led me to secretly daydreaming about how great it would be if I were “normal” age.
My secret dissatisfaction with myself found different ways to manifest itself. For example, I was a football fan since as long as I can remember, and my favorite players were my heroes. I thought to myself – “They must have plenty of friends. They are surely the last people to be socially awkward.” So, following their example, I thought that achieving success on the gridiron would automatically improve my social life. To achieve the desired success, I began to look at my favorite LA Chargers’ games differently. I replaced passive observation with repeated viewings of the most significant moments of games and meticulous study of the mechanics. Moreover, I adopted Isaac Rochell’s plant-based diet, eager to bring my body onto a more athletic shape.
Meanwhile, I grew to take my academic success for granted. I didn’t have the same joy of learning as I had before. My failure to perform athletically was my biggest concern at the time. I was sticking to this view until a fateful conversation with Saadiq, the star quarterback of our team. After a game where he was particularly good, I told him I wished to be as successful on the gridiron as him. In response, he gave me an incredulous stare and uttered: “Dude, I wish I were you!”
His words sparked me. I realized I was overlooking my academic talents merely to fit into the ideal of social acceptance that I had, in fact, imagined. For that, I was pushing myself into being something I wasn’t instead of dwelling on something I was good at. So, I decided that what I should do is unite my passions and my talents in a holy alliance. Namely, I should apply my intelligence to find ways for my favorite players to play better – in other words, to coach them.
I applied my academic approach and zest to studying football. I began to devour tomes on the topic with double enthusiasm and turned out to be so good at it that I could apply to join the American Football Coaches Association. I even got to talk to some legendary people in this field – like Sean McVay, the coach of LA Rams. It wasn’t long before I came up with my own recommendations for my team – to mild discontent of our Coach Winters. Other than that, I could feel how much of a better student, friend, and even athlete I’d become. I developed discipline, adaptability, and drive – all the qualities which are, apparently, more crucial for a player than brute force.
Since my freshman year, a lot has changed. I’ve put on some pounds of weight and the impressive 12 extra inches of height. More importantly, I’ve grown confident in my talents. This confidence allows me to focus on what I love instead of desperately struggling for social acceptance. Instead of fighting with social pressure, I found a way to apply my talents both in class and in my community. Additionally, I’ve re-discovered the joy and enthusiasm of education. My years at this high school have changed me both physically and mentally for the better. However, I still secretly wish I were Easton Stick. The difference is that now, I can settle for Anthony Lynn without feeling at a loss.
I remember the first time I saw a documentary about the Wright brothers. My mother says I was no more than five years old. Even without understanding everything the film was talking about, it was then that the very notion of flying entered my growing consciousness for good. Bit documentaries were somewhat tedious, so I began to spend long hours and whole days in our field looking for birds and watching them, examining their shape and their moves, trying to understand what is it exactly that allows them to fly. I tried my best to replicate it wasting what must have been tons of high-quality printing paper, for which my parents were less than happy, to construct elaborate paper planes. I was stubborn and focused.
In about a year I proudly concluded that I had all the answers and went on to construct my first ever flying suit. My materials were wooden planks and blankets, and I even improvised parachutes made of trash bags. As soon as it was ready, I took it to our barn roof to test it right away. Today, it’s easy for you to imagine what a spectacular crash it was, but for my 6-year-old self, it was unfathomable! My mother said that the whole county could hear me cry, but I don’t remember the pain from wounds. I do, however, remember how bitter the disappointment felt; it hurt much more than a few scratches.
Naturally, my parents would keep a better eye on me after that incident. Nevertheless, my mind was still captivated by the concept of flying in general and the reasons why my flying suit had failed in particular. Why didn’t my wings function like those of a bird? Why did my flying suit break even though the bed was quite soft? Why didn’t my parachutes work? Overall, why didn’t I fly? All of these questions haunted me.
This was a turning point after which I became obsessed with technical problem-solving. This is how my desire to fly evolved into a passion for engineering. On entering school, I took all the STEM classes there were, and no level of difficulty could scare me away. Understandably, I completed all the available science and math classes by the end of my junior year at high school. As a valuable side effect, I got to meet the smartest kids in every field, even those from the grades above me. I got to talk to them about their fields of interest, their advanced research, etc. It got me invaluable insight into matters like differential equation modeling, the role of protein in the biochemistry of a human brain, and almost anything in between.
Aside from passive learning, I eagerly took part in my school’s engineering pathway. I was elected a team leader, which forced me into developing my leadership skills. I chose not to be authoritative and aimed at utilizing each of my teammate’s talents. It wasn’t out of the kindness of my heart, but out of my firm zeal for the ultimate result. As such, I didn’t go easy on anybody. I carefully listened to all of my teammates’ ideas only to put them under severe criticism afterward. We had the fiercest of discussions, but they always ultimately led to spectacular results. For example, in my personal favorite project, a hovercraft, our final model was incomparably better compared to the initial prototype. And it was all because we were persistently and meticulously questioning each other’s ideas about every smallest detail of the design and functionality of our hovercraft.
Aside from my greatest passion, aircraft, I was for the most part interested in practical challenges that existed in the real world. For example, one of our teammates, Awara, was of Yemeni descent, and she told us the most disturbing news about the draught and the consequent fresh water shortage in Yemen, which got me interested in water purification. As a result, we have developed a system that employed carbon nanotube filters and shock electrodialysis. Our system would be a more efficient and cost-effective solution to purify and desalinate water than the methods widespread at present-day water purification plants.
After our teammate Alex’s grandfather died of Alzheimer’s disease, we unanimously decided that we need to confront the problem of Alzheimer’s early detection. We’ve come up with a piezoresistive microcantilever that would detect the abnormal concentrations of beta-amyloid protein. It allows to diagnose the possibility of Alzheimer’s disease earlier than most conventionally used methods, and, as an added bonus, it’s the first case when cantilevers are used for a purpose like this. This project has won us First Prize at the New Mexico Science Fair.
Working on these and other projects, I could witness the raw power of engineering thought. I could behold the beauty of an abstract idea growing flesh and becoming a reality. The imperative of my entire life became to discover the root-causes behind processes and the effective solutions to various pressing issues. Collaterally, I noticed that the way this world works presently is that a singular solution to any given problem always becomes favorable, and people are often reluctant even to acknowledge the possibility of an alternative, more efficient solution. It brings me joy to find better solutions than the conventional ones and to see my audience getting convinced. It is my very own way of enforcing the progress and forging the world into a better place.
It’s been twelve years since my life changing incident with the flying suit, and I still haven’t found the solutions to questions posed back then. Spending thirteen years on a problem and not finding answers may seem like a failure to some – like it would definitely seem to my six-year-old self. I can argue that I did indeed won something greater than one solution to one problem. I have gained the unquenchable curiosity and passion for practical problem-solving, and it’s still with me up to this day. It keeps pushing me toward new, more complex problems, and my confidence in the power of engineering empowers me, too.
It warms my heart to think that the realization of my human flying suit project will come when it’s due and that my first flight is yet to come. But even if it doesn’t, it won’t bring me down. Just like with my first flying experience, I see lack of success in one endeavor as a platform for greater deeds.
I can safely say that I’ve had my fair share of crap in my life. Except, unlike many other people my age who write about how they endure the many injustices of this world, I mean it quite literally. Horses, possums, birds, - you name it. The funny part is, I don't mind it. Neither do I mind how all those balls of cuteness scratch and bite me, hiss and peck at me, - not the least bit. I do mind having to skin a dead baby mouse when the owl chicks need feeding, but only a little bit.
The reason why all those things don't bother me is that there’s a greater cause that justifies it all. As someone who works with animals, I realize that the health and welfare of these creatures, their whole fate, - it all rests in my hands. The greater cause that I’ve mentioned is to patch them up so that they can return to their homes in the wild. They won’t be able to do that without me, even though they may genuinely hate me while I tend to their needs.
My utter interest in animals and my deep concern with the issue of habitat loss led me to the Tucson Wildlife Center as an intern this summer. This is where the genuine joy of being crapped at fully discovered itself. On the very first day of my internship, I picked up a baby possum, and it defecated right on my shoes (turns out they do it every time you try to pick them up, the more you know), so I had to re-appoint my favorite shoes to animal shelter shoes that can’t be worn anywhere else. Frustrated wounded pigeons aiming to peck my fingers off, baby squirrels eager to suck on my fingers, et cetera were awaiting for me in the next days.
As the internship term is coming close to an end, it begins to feel more and more wrong for me to leave this place. Reflecting on it, my hesitation to leave the Center doesn’t come from my love of animals alone. It comes from the responsibility before all these animals. I might even say I feel guilty by association because most of the animals in the shelter got here because of humans: We poison their food sources, we turn their mothers into roadkill, etc. I don’t just empathize with the orphaned and the wounded, but I feel obligated to right the wrongs done to them by humans. The sole reason why these animals are here is that they happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, neither of which is actually wrong if you think about it because they shouldn’t require human’s permission for anything. These are the reasons why it felt wrong to abandon my animals.
Abandoning my animals felt the same way as allowing oil corporations to keep destroying the Arctic. It would feel like ignoring the destructive fishing practices devastating marine life. None of this is the kind of job one can just leave half-done or avoid altogether in favor of a better one. Yet, many feel like the Arctic is too far away, the oceans are too big, and their problems are far too grand for a single person to produce any feasible impact. While I can relate to such feelings, it doesn’t stop me from co-organizing and participating in on-site protests or creating letter-writing campaigns and signing petitions to corporations. It doesn’t stop me from running education campaigns in local parks or simply convincing the people not to attends zoos, oceanariums, and circuses, - because I do believe that my effort can and does make a difference.
I must admit that sometimes I wonder whether my actions are purely altruistic or there is a selfish element to my social and environmental engagement. What if I do it just to redeem my guilt and make me feel better? What if I simply want to be able to tell myself “At least I did what I could” or even tell that to other people and add “…and you didn’t”? Honestly, I am not ready to answer these questions as of now, but I do hope that my motivation is nobler than that.
Like many other parents, mine always taught me to treat others the way I’d like to be treated. Like kids often do, I understood it literally and took it to the extreme. One time as we were driving, we hit a possum, and my father got out of the car to drag its corpse to the roadside. Following the mentioned philosophy, I asked myself – If I got hit by a car, would I want someone to just throw my corpse into the bushes, too? I guessed I wouldn’t. I want to be treated duly at all times.
I like to be treated with justice, and that’s what stops me from turning a blind eye to any injustice I see. When it’s inconvenient to face the truth about injustice, I may acknowledge the discomfort of it, but it won’t force me to walk away from this issue. Action and truth are not matters of choice for me, regardless of how many times I may get crapped on – both literally and metaphorically. The upshot is that I simply cannot walk away from injustice, however uncomfortable it is to confront it.
Inventory: 42 note pads, 12 twelve-packs of Pilot G-1 0.7 pens, and my unstoppable will. I would very much like to organize these items in order from least to most favorite, but the list turns out different every time.
All my relatives on both sides of the family like order. We all like to organize things this or that way, and I have every reason to think that it’s one of the major reasons why my parents got together in the first place, their main common ground. It looks like I am the epitome of this tendency. Without humbling myself, my list-making abilities are unparalleled even by my family’s standards.
If I had to go back to the starting point of my passion for organizing things, I would recall third grade. That’s when my mother asked me what I wanted for Christmas and, to her mild surprise, I blurted out – a set of markers and a whiteboard. Since I already knew what the present was and wanted it so badly, there was little point in waiting until Christmas Eve to unwrap the gift, so I got it some time around Halloween; however, one might choose to interpret that. Since then, all my enthusiasm went into putting together daily color-coordinated to-do lists with cute little checkmark boxes. Soon enough, organizing just my errands this way began to seem not enough for me, and my precious white board relocated from my room into the kitchen, to a degree of discomfort for the rest of the family.
This was done so I could add a new dimension to my listing and organize errands for the entire family. To compensate for the said discomfort, I thought of spicing up the board with random fun facts now and then.
My white board served us faithfully for several years until, at some point, the family council has ruled to retire it. Its main service was helping me amp up my organizing skills to the point where I don’t need it anymore. Of course, it doesn’t mean that I have shifted all my organizing into my head – the more I'm thinking about it, the less efficient of a solution it seems to me. I use note pads instead. I keep one on my counter, one on my coffee table, and one in my purse. This way, whenever an idea crosses my mind, I get a tight grip on it and put it on paper, there’s no way for an idea to escape. And there are all sorts of ideas in there: ideas for my studies, ideas for stories, perhaps even ideas on how to incite a revolution.
Some might call my obsession with organizing a bad habit, but I will argue that it is by far no the worst habit to have. Some might say that such overwhelming order in every detail makes it impossible for the spontaneous creativity to thrive, but I will argue that it is the organization that allows this spontaneous creativity to be fruitful instead of slipping through one’s fingers. I’ve known people whose creative muscle is so admirable that it leaves me in total awe. But when it comes to applying it and coming up with something, they find it way more difficult that I do – because my organization skills allow me to make full use of my creativity. It feels as though most of their creative potential stays in their heads or, as I said, slips through their fingers instead of being put on paper, - something I don’t allow to happen to myself.
Ideas exist in the ideal realm, and they are intangible. But they strive to break into our material world, to become tangible. The only way to help them do it is with a pen and paper. As soon as the 0.7mm tip of my Pilot G-1 pen touches paper to shape written words, the magic begins to happen. Of course, organizing errands and putting together lists is by far not everything I do. Written words and the impact they have on our reality is an inspiration in itself for me. This magic is both my goal and my means to achieve it.I am a debater. I write my speeches on paper, edit them on paper, and read them from paper. When I release my speech into the world, it influences the way people perceive things. How can one call it if not magic?
I am a writer. I don’t invent words (almost never). I use the same mundane dictionary as everybody else. Only when I organize them into phrases and sentences on paper, do they become meaningful and original. I construct realities in my head, but only when I put them on paper do they become real. Being written on paper is what makes my imagination material. Only then can someone else read them, let them influence someone else’s world, and make an impact. What’s the word to describe it? Magic!
I am an artist. The words I put on paper easily find their way to shape into landscapes, portraits, or even some abstract paintings depicting some objects, creatures, and processes that don’t exist in our world. Even when some of them don’t find a way into one of my “finished products,” they find their home in the sanctuaries of my loose-leaf pages. Magic!
Words are the material from which I build bridges between the ideal realm and our reality. A firm bridge needs solid material, so I have to choose my words carefully. The firm words with which I infuse all my writing, including the lists, are words like “be, complete, do, finish.” These words are powerful and energetic; they call to action, and they inspire to finish everything I start. Even though I’m the one who writes them, they shape me in return as well. They shape the real-life me – overwhelmed and somewhat confused, spontaneous and not as well-organized as I’d like to be – into the me that I strive for. I can imagine that my life is going to be much like my notes – complex, jumbled, full of corrections and figures that may contradict one another, but it will never become unclear and unintelligible, - thanks to the words being put to paper and thus becoming material.
For me, there is no bigger miracle in the world than the way graceful ink from the pen directed by my left hand works wonders, and it will never cease to amaze me. As such, my note books with listing and organizing mean as much to me as a walk in the park or a nice espresso in the morning for someone else. They are a vital part of my daily routine, and their role is to refresh it, to breathe life into it. They’re not unlike a true friend that’s always there for me whenever I need them, within reach.
All those countless lists and figures in my note pads are the best ways to make an unclarity clear. Truly, one cannot mess up a 3x5 note pad. Even if you try to, all you’ll do is make your ideas even better organized and bring even more order to them. Moreover, it’s a way for ideas to manifest themselves and materialize. At the moment between getting a grip of an idea in my head and putting it on paper, magic happens. This magic is what makes my ideas come to fruition once I put them on paper.
The examples you’ve just read are taken from recent real-life students who successfully got enrolled and won scholarships. We have introduced some changes to their personal statements to avoid plagiarism. We have also added headings – which are usually not required in a personal statement. You are welcome to use these examples as an inspiration and to get a clearer idea of what you’re expected to come up with, but no more than that. If you feel like copying these examples and presenting them as your own, it’s not such a good idea. There are several reasons why you should avoid doing that:
The admission committees use sophisticated anti-plagiarism software which will surely take them to this page and reveal your copy-and-paste.
Different schools may have different personal statement requirements or recommendations for applicants for different majors. These differences may lie in a variety of variables: the number of words (paragraphs, lines), the person of the narrator (first or third), the length of sentences, etc. Naturally, when putting together our examples, we couldn’t accord with the recommendations of the school to which you are applying in particular.
Finally , we remind you that a personal statement must be personal. As such, your personal statement must be about you, your life experiences, and the personality they shaped. Describing another person or a fictional character in your personal statement is counterproductive because if you do that, you’ll present this person to the admission committee instead of yourself, and that’s the opposite of what you’re supposed to do. Moreover, if you apply to more than one school, be well-advised to refrain from sending the same personal statement to all schools. Take your time and write an inpidual personal statement for every school, considering your connection to the school’s specialty and your desired major.
Finally, we’d like to note that we have no formal connection to any admission committee of any school. As such, we cannot guarantee the success of your application, as much as we’d like to. This is one more, quite important, reason why you should use our examples for inspiration only.
If however, you still feel that writing a personal statement essay is too much of a challenging task for you, it’s better to assign this job to professional writers. This way, you will receive a custom-written, original paper which passes any plagiarism software checks.
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