I was at a friend’s house this past summer doing what I enjoy most—playing with his three children in the backyard. As a full grown adult, I admit that the space they enjoy seems relatively small. To each of the three children, however, the patch of grass, the plastic slide, the small concrete patio, and the few trees that mark the perimeter of the yard is an entire world unto itself, a world that they never grow tired of exploring, and a world that they never grow tired of sharing with anyone willing to enter. To be clear, I am always interested in entering their world. This past summer, I did just that when the youngest of the three children, a wide-eyed two-year-old girl with the same adventurous spirit of her older brother, gently took my wrist and led me to a small tree in the corner of the yard, a tree she was determined to climb. Without saying a word, she communicated something so powerful. Please come and join me. Please be part of my world. It was a silent invitation, but one that I could not possibly ignore. When she started to climb the tree, she wanted me to witness something. Undoubtedly, she wanted me to witness her ability to actually climb a tree. I realized, though, that I was also witnessing her growing sense of adventure and independence. Moreover, I was witnessing, and in turn experiencing, pure, unadulterated joy. Her huge ear-to-ear smile told me everything I needed to know. She was thrilled to be climbing the tree. And was delighted that someone had entered her world.
I cannot think of a better analogy to capture the essence of a great college essay than of a two-year-old child pulling an adult into her world. Teenagers are presented with the challenge of pulling an admission officer into their world. Just as my friend’s daughter took my wrist and led me confidently to the tree she wanted to climb, so too must teenagers grab—metaphorically speaking of course—the wrist of an admission officer and pull them into a world they care about deeply. They, too, are saying, please come and join me. Please be part of my world. Please know my thoughts, understand how I look at the world, and learn how I reflect on my experiences.
At best, a college essay provides a glimpse into the applicant’s world. There are obvious limitations to a piece of writing that is approximately five hundred words in length. This is where the distinction between a good college essay and a great college essay comes into play. A great college essay successfully pulls the reader into a single moment in time. But it is not simply a physical place that the reader is pulled. Rather, the reader is pulled into the very heart, mind, and imagination of the applicant—and something important, something special is revealed.
I always tell my students there are two kinds of college essays. There is an activities-based essay, which usually falls short in that it fails to capture the attention or imagination of the reader. And then there is a thought-piece, which as the name implies, pulls the reader into a world of thoughts and meaningful reflection. Years ago, when I was still an undergraduate, I went out for dinner with two English professors. At the end of the conversation, one of them had a huge smile on her face. And she said to us, “This is the kind of conversation I love, the kind when new thoughts are born.” At the time, I never thought about thoughts having a life or as being born. But she was absolutely right. Great conversation allows and inspires people to articulate new thoughts. So, too, do great college essays. They allow students to reflect on the significance, the importance of a particular moment, and in doing so, pull the reader into that moment.
Great essays also require a little hand-holding. The applicant’s responsibility is to help the reader navigate the world they are being pulled into. The reader should not know the direction of the essay simply by reading the first sentence or two. The reader should not be able to predict the ending. And yet, so often, the reader can do exactly that. Imagine for a moment a forest. Imagine the admission officer standing at the edge. Suddenly, a man comes along and with his giant chainsaw cuts down every tree. The person standing where the edge of the forest used to be can see to the other side. There is no excitement in the predictable. The applicant wants those trees to stand, and stand tall. The applicant wants the man with the chainsaw to disappear. And the applicant wants to help the reader navigate the forest, one thought at a time.
To be caught in the act of thinking is paramount. Let me explain: To be caught in the act of thinking is to be caught grappling, grappling with ideas, grappling with the wonderful complexities of human thought and emotion. To be caught in the act of thinking is to reveal those innermost thoughts that have not yet been articulated, not yet been formulated, not yet born. And you, the applicant, are giving them life, giving them life for the very first time. The reader is witnessing and experiencing the birth of those thoughts and ideas. And it is beautiful.
Many of my students express the same fear, namely that they have not yet had a life-changing experience or that one epiphany that would serve as the ultimate topic. The truth is, the best essay topics often center around something quite mundane, a lunch-time conversation in the cafeteria, a dinner conversation with family members, or a conversation with fellow peers with whom they carpool. And therein lies the key—finding what is special, even extraordinary about something that could be considered ordinary. Keep in mind, too, that the application process is essentially one of self-discovery. In the essay, then, let there be discoveries. Let there be moments of realization. Let there be thoughts that reveal. Remember, too, that self-discovery is not a description of something that happened. It is not an action that can be documented. Rather, it is internal. Hence, it is subtle and needs to be teased out of our hearts and minds. And most importantly, it is a process. Great self-discoveries do not reveal themselves in an instant. They reveal themselves slowly. So be patient. These thoughts cannot be rushed. Let them grow naturally and organically, and they will be real. They will be fresh. And they won’t sound recycled.
I always tell my students that there are two kinds of conversation in this world. There is the kind that involves sharing thoughts and ideas that have already been shared with someone else. The words are all too familiar because they have been spoken before. And then there is another kind of conversation, the kind I had with the two English professors, the kind that involves realizing something for the first time and sharing that thought for the first time. There is a corresponding excitement that cannot be faked, an excitement that comes from knowing something new is being shared. College essays that are driven by these kinds of thoughts, the non-recycled, almost unedited ones, those are the ones that capture our hearts and minds. Suddenly, what appears on the face of an admission officer is not the expression, “Not another one of these essays,” but instead, a smile, a smile that reveals an element of surprise, a smile that says, “I am engaged, and I am interested.”
39 Fernhill Ave.
Ross, CA 94957415-454-3612Privacy Policy
