This guide breaks down the University of Washington (UW) supplemental essays for the 2025-2026 application cycle. UW's admissions process requires one required essay and an optional addendum.
Personal Story: Tell a story from your life, describing an experience that either demonstrates your character or helped to shape it.
The clock showed 3:17 AM, and the project was on fire. Not literally, but the cascade of error messages on my screen felt just as destructive. For the past 36 hours, at my first-ever hackathon, I had been the sole architect of “ConnectSphere,” an app designed to link local volunteers with non-profits. As the team’s only experienced coder, I had confidently waved off my teammates, Anna and Ben, whenever they offered suggestions. Anna, a designer, had questioned the user interface, while Ben, a business major, had worried the core feature was too complex. “I’ve got this,” I’d repeated, plugging in my headphones. My confidence had quickly curdled into panic. The database I’d single-handedly built was fundamentally flawed, and every fix I attempted created two new bugs. With the submission deadline looming, Anna and Ben weren’t angry; they just looked disappointed. It was in that moment of quiet failure that the real problem became clear: the code wasn’t the issue, I was. I had been so focused on proving my individual skill that I had completely ignored the collaborative spirit of the event. I had treated my team like an audience instead of a partnership. Pushing my laptop away, I turned to them and said the two hardest words I could think of: “You were right.” We didn't have time to fix the app, but we spent the last hour mapping out what we should have done. Anna sketched a simple, intuitive wireframe that would have saved hours of coding. Ben outlined a streamlined feature set that was more practical and impactful. The final product we submitted was a broken link, but the diagram we drew on a whiteboard felt like a victory. That failure reshaped my character. It taught me that talent in isolation is worthless and that humility is the essential ingredient for turning individual abilities into collective success. It was the best project I ever failed to build.
Lunch in the sophomore commons was governed by unspoken rules, and Maya, the new girl from out of state, was breaking all of them. Her clothes were a little different, her accent was unfamiliar, and she didn’t laugh at the right moments. The group I sat with wasn't overtly cruel, but their exclusion was a precise and finely-tuned craft. They would subtly turn their shoulders, lower their voices when she approached, and exchange knowing glances over her head. I watched, my sandwich feeling like lead in my stomach, and said nothing. To defend her felt like a monumental risk; it meant stepping out of the comfortable circle of acceptance I had worked so hard to enter. One Tuesday, the casual teasing sharpened into something meaner. A joke was made at Maya’s expense, just loud enough for her to hear. A few people snickered. Maya’s face fell, and she quickly stood up and walked away to an empty table in the corner. In that instant, I was faced with a clear, silent choice: my social comfort or my conscience. My heart hammered in my chest, but I knew that staying seated would be a small betrayal of the person I wanted to be. Without a word, I picked up my tray, stood, and walked across the room. The chatter at my old table died down as I approached Maya. “Is this seat taken?” I asked. She looked up, surprised, and shook her head. My simple act didn't cause a scene, and it didn't instantly make me a hero. But as we started a hesitant conversation about a book we were both reading, I felt a profound sense of relief. I had chosen. That experience taught me that courage isn't always a loud declaration. Sometimes, it’s the quiet, deliberate act of walking across a room to offer someone a seat, demonstrating that integrity is defined by small choices, especially when you think no one is watching.
Additional Information: You are not required to write anything in this section, but you may include additional information if something has particular significance to you. This could be due to personal hardships, limited activities, or unusual circumstances.
During the fall semester of my junior year, my family’s small restaurant faced an unexpected staffing shortage that threatened its ability to stay open. To help, I took on the role of evening manager, working approximately 25 hours per week from September to December. This responsibility, which included closing the restaurant and handling inventory, significantly reduced my available study time. This is directly reflected in my B- grades in AP Chemistry and Pre-Calculus that term. While the circumstances were difficult, the experience taught me invaluable lessons in management and resilience. As my subsequent grades show, my academic performance returned to its normal level once the situation was resolved.
My limited participation in school-based extracurricular activities is a result of my family’s circumstances. We live in a rural area, and my high school is a 40-minute bus ride away, making after-school participation difficult. Furthermore, as the oldest of three siblings, I have been responsible for their care every day after school until my parents return from their evening shifts. While this prevented me from joining teams or clubs, I pursued my interests independently. I used online courses to learn Python and developed a passion for astronomy through books from our local library. These responsibilities fostered a strong sense of discipline and self-motivated learning.
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