by Anthony m., ’29
Pop quiz: A bird shoots through the crisp morning air of New York City, dodging skyscrapers at a speed of thirty kilometers per hour. The sun breaks through the horizon, blinding the bird in both eyes. The bird manages to catch its reflection in the shining glass of the Empire State Building—but by that time, it’s too late. How do we use velocity, angles, distance, and force to find the point at which the glass shatters?
For me, math is more than just numbers. It’s a mode of visualizing movement in action, the synthesis of my imagination and the physical world. When I’m problem-solving, I’m not just generating a string of numbers on paper. I’m picturing the spiral of a rollercoaster, the friction of a waterslide, and the curvature of an asteroid’s impending collision with Earth.
In high school, when precalculus was taught as a series of step-by-step instructions, it felt like the vivid and colorful world I had come to love was being broadcast in black and white. I saw this reflected in the growing disinterest of my classmates, who saw math as a monotonous chore rather than a universal language with boundless explanatory and creative power. I had to step in. I had to show people what I saw.
This inspired me to begin writing creative math questions for my peers. My parametric equations are not simple problems with one-step calculations– they are cinematic universes that jolt audiences with excitement. They invite others to embrace mathematics as a practice of external—and even internal—discovery that was missing in my school.
When I present my famous “bird crashing into the window” problem students enthusiastically gather around the whiteboard to uncover its mysteries. I watch their impassioned discussions unfold with a sense of satisfaction as each drawing and scribble brings them closer to the truth. Witnessing their pride as they finally arrive at the answer reminds me of why I teach.
I’ve since honed question-design into an art, creating math tests and exercises for Teachers Pay Teachers so that teachers around the world can give my imaginative questions to their students. I hope that students not only learn the concepts I’m teaching– but also critical thinking and reasoning that provides new ways to solve challenges in their lives.
I have also used the medium of math beyond problem sets and assessments. As captain of the Math Olympiad, I use it to transform confused faces into laughter and excitement, to test my teammates’ courage and strengthen team bonds. When I tutor Mu Alpha Theta or teach in Wall Street Lions, it is a language of empathy and connection to connect with students with interests outside of STEM. And in CivicSpark—the non-profit I co-founded to help students gain agency through civic engagement—I deploy the logic and reasoning of math without the numbers. Through a curriculum of imaginative puzzles, I empowered students in schools across Southern California to reach out to their representatives to ignite real change.
In this way, I have used math as a brush to paint a canvas that extends beyond the visual to what matters most—infusing life with greater meaning and heart. It is this creativity that compels me to pursue Applied Mathematics. There is no greater or more fulfilling challenge than the application of mathematics to real-life problems. However I hope to take this application a step further: If every calculation is a story, what does it mean for us to become storytellers? And how can this intellectual artistry transform the world?
As for the bird that caught its reflection in the office window–perhaps it isn’t about the force of the collision, but what happens after. The way the shards of glass multiply a single reflection into thousands of new perspectives. The way a barrier opens to reveal spaces that were previously hidden. And the infinite possibilities of what happens next.
Admissions Committee Comments
Pursuing knowledge and connecting resulting discoveries to the wider world is one of the foundational pillars of the Hopkins mission. In his essay, Anthony explores the beginning of his interest in mathematics, diving into the many classrooms and personal experiences that created and strengthened it. He takes this interest, and the essay, a step further by showcasing the ways that he translated this interest into real world impact. By connecting his interest in math to work he’s done through teaching, a non-profit, and a school club, Anthony demonstrates an ability to impart his passions and knowledge through a number of different avenues. These skillsets and mindsets will allow him to take advantage of the opportunities at Hopkins and show strong alignment with the University as a whole.
Anthony M.“Do not think of the personal statement as an essay; think of it as a love letter. It is the story of why you give your time and energy to do what you love, and how that love has changed you. In expressing it, you reveal passions and desires no one else could ever copy. The personal statement no longer describes your character; it embodies it.”
