The I Love/I Know Method
In this lesson, I'll cover:
How the “I Love/I Know” Method Works
Example Topics from Past Students
The “Animals” Example Essay + Analysis
The “Food” Example Essay + Analysis
A Mini-Exercise to Get You Started on Your “I Love/I Know” Essay
Time:
30 minutes
How it works: Pick something you love or have spent a lot of time thinking about and show how it connects to many different parts of you.
Example topics from past students include:
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Let's look at two example essays. Then I'll show you how to brainstorm your own essay.
Example 1: The "Animals" Essay
Lola the lamb. Diego the snake. Jack the Dog. Nutmeg the rabbit. And a Bearded Dragon named Zigzag.
No, these aren't weird titles for kids books.
These are actually some of my greatest teachers.
In my life, in addition to those named above, I've had as pets: a ball python, a fire bellied frog, a hedgehog, three birds, countless hamsters, 22 quails, several cats, chickens, a seahorse, ducks, caterpillars, rabbits, and a number of anoles.
But why have I grown up with such a diverse cast? Was I an animal in a past life and that's why I feel close to them? Do I just enjoy the prospect of unspoken understanding, interpreting the complex, and actually succeeding? For many reasons, my connection and experiences with these animals have been a major part of shaping who I am today.
Nothing teaches patience like trying to catch 22 rogue quail in your backyard. I incubated 32 quail eggs and every day I dedicated my afternoons to watching the eggs, checking the water levels, and making sure the temperature was okay. In the days leading up to the expected hatch date, I sat there, face centimeters away from the glass, talking to them and waiting for any signs of movement. Once they did hatch, taking care of them wasn't easy and I had to learn a lot about how they acted. I have taken these traits of patience and adaptability into other areas of my life. For example, in crew, creating the ideal "set" in a boat takes eight people working in perfect unison and this is rarely the case. Learning how to love crew for what it is took time.
I've perhaps learned more about trust from my foster lamb, Lola, than I have from humans. She came from a farm that we later learned abused (and abuses) its animals and experiences high death rates of baby animals. Lola was really sick and needed constant attention 24 hours a day. Because of her previous bad experiences with humans, letting herself be vulnerable with me was significant to me. I had to trust that it was worth all of the effort and if I gave her my attention, she would get better. This ability to build trust has been important in my life in other areas, whether it be animals, plants, or working with my peers in Peer Connections. Though some of the students in Peer Connections had challenges communicating, I've been able to create trust and form real friendships through the things I learned from Lola: empathy, openness, and attentive care.
And trying to maintain a saltwater aquarium for my seahorse taught me a lot about science. Saltwater aquariums are especially difficult because they involve simulating a large and complicated ecosphere. The levels of alkanes, nitrates, nitrites, ammonia, salinity, and pH are extremely important and must be maintained by an established community of nitrifying bacteria that will detoxify the water. Although the process of creating this ecosystem took many months, I was also able to connect with my dad. I learned from him how to take something you are passionate about and apply it in a practical way.
Some lessons I have had to learn the hard way. I was heartbroken when my bird Jules died by hand, for example, or when I had to watch my dad cut the heads off chickens I had raised. And even though at the time these seemed like the worst thing that could happen, learning how to grieve and being able to honor life after it's gone has been valuable. Raising animals exposed me to quantitative things like science and animal husbandry, but also qualitative things such as intuition and communication. All my interactions with my animals have been transformative in my development and understanding of myself and society.
Four Qualities This Essay Demonstrates:
I believe most great essays illustrate four qualities: core values (as we've discussed), insight (in other words, an illuminating answer to the question, "so what?"), vulnerability (it feels personal), and craft (it's well-written). Here's how this essay shows each of these:
1. Values. Note how each animal is connected to a different value:
Quail → patience
Lamb → trust
Seahorse → science
Birds → how to grieve, intuition, communication
Slap on an intro and a conclusion, and you've basically got an essay outline right there.
2. Insight. Note how the author answers "so what" at least once in every paragraph. I appreciate in particular these two excerpts: "Learning how to love crew for what it is took time" and "I learned from [my dad] how to take something you are passionate about and apply it in a practical way."
3. Vulnerability. I find this essay to be vulnerable in a few ways, in particular this part: "I was heartbroken when my bird Jules died by hand, for example, or when I had to watch my dad cut the heads off chickens I had raised. And even though at the time these seemed like the worst thing that could happen, learning how to grieve and being able to honor life after it's gone has been valuable."
4. Craft. I love the specificity of his details, particularly in the author's description of what he's learned from raising the seahorse: "The levels of alkanes, nitrates, nitrites, ammonia, salinity, and pH are extremely important and must be maintained by an established community of nitrifying bacteria that will detoxify the water."
Example 2: The "Food" Essay
Since 1941, my family has had an odd tradition.
Three days a week, my great-grandfather Pop brought home ribs. After dinner, he'd go around the table inspecting each plate, making sure each rib was stripped down to the bone. If he found one morsel, you couldn't be excused. Pop believed that, before you could leave the table, you had to finish your ribs.
This lesson has stuck with me. Whether I'm staying up until two in the morning to figure out the Radius of Convergence of a Power Series or identifying solutions to countless concerns issued by my school district, I strive to finish my ribs.
But this is just one of many lessons food has taught me ...
During Thanksgiving, instead of going around the table to express "thanks," my family writes notes on the tablecloth—the same one for the past 26 years. You'll find thoughts from my Dad. But only until 2004. Or corny jokes from my step-dad. But only until 2016. And you'll read "Family is everything" from my great-grandmother Non. But only until 2017.
My family is far from perfect, but it's in the presence of a tablecloth where time freezes and I begin to feel an unfamiliar sense of stability. It's where my brother Noah told my Dad he loved him after six years of not communicating; where Mom sat next to Dad without a lawyer by their side, and where my family has gathered for every birthday at the same restaurant since I was four.
To me, eating means celebrating—culture, people, life. And I celebrated Non's life by trying a dish I've feared since my first Passover: Gefilte fish, a stuffed seafood concoction. It's not the taste I remember clearly but rather how it began a cascade of tasting other Jewish foods—chopped liver, beef tongue, pickled herring. In the time since, I've realized Gefilte fish is more than just the unfamiliar food tucked away in my great-grandma's fridge, it represents the opportunities that arise from trying new things.
Because Gefilte fish is everywhere.
In some cases, Gefilte fish has meant testing different locations of bins to minimize food waste in a school with no cafeteria. Or researching how biofortification can create an allosteric inhibitor reducing the release of ethylene, thus increasing the shelf life of produce.
The lessons I learn through food aren't just limited to traditional meals, though.
For the past five years, I've sold Otter Pops, a type of popsicle, at Spokane's annual race. Every year my business grows---I hire new employees to manage new stands throughout the course to sell thousands of Pops. But while my popsicle empire expands, one thing remains true: I take a break amid the chaos to eat my own Otter Pops. It's the same reason I play volleyball with friends after a long week of school and swim in the river with my football teammates after we finish conditioning. I take tremendous pride in these things; in fact, I find them necessary.
And when I cook, I transform a part of raw Earth into raw culture. Preparing steak enables me to remember my great-grandfather while eating it reminds me of its destruction to the environment. This is how I understand the world— I cook to discover myself; I eat to learn about the world around me.
But we've become a product of the industrial food system, leading us to believe food is just another commodity and rendering us unable to identify that it exists at the seed of our very identity. This is why I want to study Anthropology and Public Policy--to restore the bond between humans, food, and culture and to create the policies that will ensure those who are food insecure have the same opportunity to do so themselves.
I have so much left to eat in this world---so much to change, so much to create, and even more to impact.
I'm hungry ...
Four Great Qualities This Essay Demonstrates:
1. Values. Like the author above, this author connects each example to a different value:
"Finish your ribs" story → determination
Family notes on the tablecloth → vulnerability
Gefilte fish → experimenting/trying new things
Otter Pops → rest/taking time to enjoy the fruits of my labor
Cooking → family + environmental impact
Again, these examples and values make up his outline, and each one becomes a paragraph. You can also think of each one as a "scene" in the "movie" of his essay.
2. Insight. This author answers "so what" in illuminating ways. My favorite insight is: "This is how I understand the world— I cook to discover myself; I eat to learn about the world around me." This illuminates for us why he cooks.
3. Vulnerability. I love the paragraph in which the author shares about his family's tablecloth: "It's in the presence of a tablecloth where time freezes and I begin to feel an unfamiliar sense of stability. It's where my brother Noah told my Dad he loved him after six years of not communicating; where Mom sat next to Dad without a lawyer by their side, and where my family has gathered for every birthday at the same restaurant since I was four." This information tells us who the author is, but that wouldn't appear anywhere else in his application, which is something that lets us know the personal statement is actually personal.
4. Craft. The author's writing is concise and powerful. In particular, I love the bit that reads, "You'll find thoughts from my Dad. But only until 2004," and the way he closes the essay with the simple phrase, "I'm hungry." This essay represents a series of carefully considered choices.
A Mini-Exercise to Get You Started on Your "I Love/I Know" Essay
1. Complete the "I Love" and "I Know" Exercises.
If you've already completed these, skip to #2. If you haven't, read the box below.
How to Play "I Know" and "I Love"
I Love. Spend one minute making a random list of things you love. If you have a partner nearby, set a timer and speak your list aloud while your partner writes down what you say. Examples: I love ... the ocean. I love ... the way clean laundry smells. I love ... physics. I love ... my grandmother's pupusas, etc. Then switch roles, and you write while your partner makes their list. Here's a video of me doing this one.
I Know. Spend one minute making a list of things you know a lot about. (Examples: I know a lot about ... board games ... World War II history ... constructed languages, etc.) Again, if you have a partner, take turns talking and writing.
2. Pick something from your "I Love" or "I Know" list that might work well as a topic.
How will you know? Look for topics that are elastic (meaning you can probably connect them to many different parts of yourself) and, if possible, uncommon (meaning rare, unusual, or distinctive). Of course, you can still write a great essay even if your topic is common, as the "food" essay above demonstrates—just make sure you know it super well.
Unsure if what you've chosen is a "good" topic? You can ...
3. Test your topic by trying to connect it to at least five values in two minutes.
If you can do this, it might be a good one. If you can't, maybe try another one. You can use the Values List for this.
Once you've found a potential topic ...
4. Brainstorm 4-7 examples for your topic.
Simple example from the "food" essay above:
"Finish your ribs" story
Family notes on the tablecloth
Gefilte fish
Otter Pops
Cooking
5. Connect each example to a different value.
Example:
"Finish your ribs" story → determination
Family notes on the tablecloth → vulnerability
Gefilte fish → experimenting/trying new things
Otter Pops → rest/taking time to enjoy the fruits of my labor
Cooking → family + environmental impact
This is how simple I want you to keep things right now.
You may be wondering: Should I brainstorm the examples or the values first? Actually, either can work. If you want to try starting with the values first, here's the Values List again.
Okay, time to start.
[action_item]
Action Item: Spend at least 7 minutes creating a mini-outline by brainstorming 4-7 examples of your topic and connecting each one to a different value. You can do this on the Montage Mini-Outline section in your Workbook.
Wondering if what you’re working on is a “good” topic? Click continue to move onto the next module.
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