In our English class, we focused on writing college essays for the Common Application. As I was already working on college essays with a private tutor, I wrote an essay to respond to one of the Chicago Prompts instead. While not my best work, it was still fun to write. Below this is the essay.

Prompt:

Who does Sally sell her seashells to? How much wood can a woodchuck really chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood? Pick a favorite tongue twister (either originally in English or translated from another language) and consider a resolution to its conundrum using the method of your choice. Math, philosophy, linguistics… it’s all up to you (or your woodchuck).

Essay:

Sally sells seashells by the seashore.

She sells seashells on the seashell shore.

The seashells she sells are seashore shells,

Of that I’m sure.

popular tongue twister

Sally, as a matter of fact, does not sell her seashells by the seashore. However, it is where she finds them. Sally, whose real name was Mary Anning, was part of the fossil business from the start. The Anning family were invested in fossils: it was the family business. Father Richard Anning often took Mary and her brother Joseph to beaches along Lyme Regis, located in Dorset, England. Similarly to how Mary was part of the fossil business from birth, my connection to neuroscience was out of my control. My personal tie with neuroscience began with my first seizure—when I found out I had epilepsy. Going through numerous tests and meeting neurologists to talk about my brain developed a vested interest in neuroscience for me. I began researching my epilepsy, contacting scientific researchers and college professors alike to ask for their research papers. 

By the age of 26, Mary was in charge of the family business. Joseph was in an apprenticeship, and Mary took up the bulk of the fossil-hunting. An auction held by a lead customer to raise money for the family simultaneously raised the Anning’s prominence in the geological community. I came to “be in charge” of my interest in neuroscience when I started academically pursuing what started out as an attempt to understand a problem. My inquisitive nature and innate curiosity led me to doing more than just researching my epilepsy—I started becoming more interested in neuroscience as a field, and started taking classes. In the summer of my junior year, I took an Introduction to Neuroscience course, for college credit, through University of California Berkeley. I started reading the textbook in preparation for the class, and found myself drawn in. I was an apt listener in class, and did well on our various quizzes and tests. I excelled in the group project, acting as the keystone that tied our group together—I helped my teammates in deciding what to research, as well as helped them with whatever research they needed. I ended the intense 8-week course with an A.

One year after becoming the head of the business, Anning was able to purchase her shop, Anning’s Fossil Depot The feat gave Anning more than local fame: geologists and fossil collectors throughout Europe and America paid her a visit, and Anning’s knowledge grew. In 1839, she was able to disprove a scientific claim with confidence. I intend to major in Cognitive science and Neuroscience during college. I see myself out of college, entering medical school to become a neurosurgeon. I decided to become a neurosurgeon for two reasons: the first, my hands on personality; the second, my inclination to help others. Whilst researching my epilepsy, I came across a paper that mentioned certain surgeries that may, with further research, be able to greatly reduce if not cure certain forms of epilepsy. Having personal experience with epilepsy, I would love to be able to help cure or alleviate the likelihood of people having seizures, and to give them peace of mind. 

So, to answer the question of who “Sally” sells her seashells to: she doesn’t. And to be honest, it is a question of little matter. However, Anning herself is much more interesting: why she took up her profession and what she did with it are what truly makes the story. As well, a number of parallels between Anning’s life and mine can be drawn—from being drawn into something we had no say in, to developing into who we were due to that fact, a remarkable similarity can be found. One thing is for sure, however: Rather than selling seashells, I aim to provide those who’ve lost their exoskeleton with “shells” of their own.