Commitment Issues

It. Has. Been. A. Minute.

I finished assisting 25 seniors through their college application journey a few weeks ago. I was with some from first-draft school spreadsheets in May to Regular Decision deadlines in January. Our work together began at different points on the college admissions timeline and my involvement with each varied. I coached over 100 essays for my students this application cycle, and I’m eager to write about that experience. But for now, I’m going to discuss something far more timely and important for prospective parents and students: commitment to the process.

Most high school students haven’t yet had to see themselves through a months-long endeavor that isn’t exactly mandatory or heavily mapped out for them. Yet the college application process is an independent experience. It hinges on dedication and an acknowledgment that desired results are, for the most part, a direct reflection of effort.

Parents, you might be asking yourselves, “but, don’t you map it out for my student?”

I absolutely do. I manage the process. Travel agents suggest destinations, make reservations, and create an itinerary for clients that desire a schedule to ensure they haven’t missed anything important or special. Enlisting the assistance of an educational consultant focused on college admissions provides that same involvement and reassurance.

My students and their parents are relieved when I begin overseeing the calendar and executing my strategy; suddenly, something so complicated has a practicable framework.

Students, however, must commit to the process. Applying to college is an extra class. In fact, it should be called Attention to Detail. Actually, it’s two extra classes--the other is Introspective Essay Writing.

After we begin working together, the newfound familiarity and trust—combined with the allure of summer and deadlines that seem distant—erode the excitement I first see in students. It’s natural, and I expect it. But this is where it becomes most evident that working with me is a balanced partnership. Whether I’m taking students through their applications from start to finish or simply working on essays, my reminders, texts, and cajoling are most useful to those who are diligent and responsible.

I ensure student essays have meticulous grammar and suggest colorful punctuation. I’m a biiig fan of the semicolon and thoughtful italics (not to mention parentheses for witty asides). I’ll facilitate their story development and composition. But I can’t write the essays—and there will likely be several required.

I track important dates for their high school and the institutions to which they’re applying. But it’s up to each student to actually follow their school’s procedures and submit their applications.

I encourage students to schedule weekly meetings with me so we can start school research together. They’ll receive communication from me to request letters of recommendation. I’ll share a Doc with them to begin listing and describing their activity involvement well before senior year begins. But ultimately, students must take the initiative to assemble the pieces and parts for each application.

Every student has a different flair for how they handle the anticipation of applying to college. I’ve now had the 1 a.m. texters, last-minute schedulers, doubters, and those that want to pore over language. And here is what I can conclude. My most successful students—in terms of acceptances and stress-level—booked their next meeting with me before they closed their laptop at the one we were just finishing. They reconciled feelings about deep, personal matters and then uninhibitedly expressed them. They deleted language they initially didn’t want to remove. They took my advice they asked for, ran with it, and delivered.

They matched the commitment I made to them with their commitment to the process.

(And for those wondering how one can tell a story or make a point in just 650 words, the above clocks in at 616.)

A Word on Resilience

This post began as an introduction to a new Common App essay example I wrote for this blog. My intention was to illustrate how to write a themed essay. But as I started to explain how a theme is a nice approach for students who have not experienced and overcome difficulty, that foundation morphed into this essay.

When I first meet with students to discuss their personal statements, many express concern that they lack a “challenge” to write about—a life experience to reflect upon that showcases their ability to plow through and bounce back. And, if they have lived through a difficult time, they worry admissions officers won’t view their recovery as that exceptional since thousands of students have experienced a similar event. Divorce, coming out, not making a team, and now COVID are viewed as overdone topics that—unless nuanced or cleverly spun—no longer make a standout essay despite being well-written.

Illustrating one’s resilience has become a crown jewel of personal statements. But let’s get something straight: the hardship is not what makes the essay exceptional. The hardship is circumstance. Admissions officers are not judging the impact a lived experience has had on an applicant nor are they evaluating how defining a moment is to another person. Admissions officers are interested in what the student did to overcome the difficulty.

In a challenge-based essay, the event is the mechanism the student uses to narrate their personal constitution. These applicants offer original perspective and insight about their inner strength, and it’s that distinctive expression that captivates admissions officers. The essay is less about what happened and more about the student taking ownership of the situation, learning from it, and reflecting. They aren’t telling a story—it’s their story.

Here’s the thing: we all have resilience. It is part of the human condition. Sooner or later, life calls upon all of us to use ours. If you tense up, if you hold your breath when you’re stressed, if you cry easily—these are your responses to big moments. They do not make you any less resilient. It might not have been pretty and you might not have done it as gracefully as you’d hoped, but you found a way to make it through all of your trials and tribulations so far. That is resilience.

It is implied in every essay. Growing up isn’t easy. Even in the absence of hard moments we all learn lessons. Every experience—big or small—shapes us whether we realize it at the time or not.

And that’s the point of the personal statement.

Colleges and universities want to know more about who you are, what lessons you have learned, what is important to you, and how you have come to be you and less about what has happened to you. The personal statement is an opportunity for students to explain where they are in their personhood. It is a 650-word outward display of what’s on the inside. Earth-shattering revelations are not expected--honest vulnerability is.

There isn’t one way into the hearts of admissions officers, and there isn’t one way for students to tell their story. Whether the words easily pour out or it’s a months-long journey to find them, writing the personal statement is yet another experience that makes you…well…YOU.

A Focus On Community

What words are next? What few syllables will become so synonymous with gun violence tragedy that they hold all the details, heartache, and confusion without further explanation? Columbine. Virginia Tech. Sandy Hook. Parkland. Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church. Tree of Life. El Paso. Buffalo. And now, Uvalde. The latest massacre has given us a clear answer to the question many of us asked less than three weeks ago—yes, it can get worse. The hopelessness many of us feel is a result of knowing Uvalde should be rock bottom, but it isn’t. I shudder to think what event might finally cause the sea change in American gun culture so many of us want…I shudder to think what events won’t.

I’m not one to believe the roadmap to change has a simple answer. But if we can all agree on one thing, it’s that every student who goes to school in the morning should be able to leave at dismissal without ever fearing for one second during the day that they might be murdered during class. I wonder how anthropologists (or historians, or politicians) will eventually explain the wanton disregard for human life by throngs of gun supporters who simultaneously claim to value it from the moment of conception. The Second Amendment has limits; so too should access to killing machines.

How do we begin to reconcile these issues when our political leaders are busy legislating lawlessness on one hand and overbearing restrictions on the other?

The answer, I believe, begins with a return to community—person-to-person connections based on the unwritten social contracts of decency and respect for humanity. What we need are boots on the ground at the local level making a difference in individual lives. Check out this article detailing a framework for community activism to combat gun violence, as well as these programs and strategies for inspiration or involvement.

The admissions officers at Washington University in St. Louis agree. Vice Provost of Admissions & Financial Aid Ronné Turner characterized some of the 3,600 accepted students—just 10% of applicants this past admissions cycle—“as ‘bridge-builders’ who have experience building community.” She explained that these applicants demonstrated a commitment to improving their community during the pandemic. They organized camps for young children, made masks, or started food drives.

Let’s really think about this. Over 36,000 students applied to Washington University for the class of 2026, and a commitment to community was something novel enough to stand out to admissions officers. Today’s teens speak their minds, argue their points, and defend their positions behind the safety of the screen. Gone are the days when students had to be on the debate team to perfect a narrative about a cause or issue. Instead, they express freely on Twitter, TikTok, and comments sections of opinion articles.

Teens may know earlier what they stand for but don’t often understand how to couple it with action. How do they move their digital persona into the real world to make a demonstrable difference? Many universities are offering students the opportunity to explore just that through service learning.

Service learning is an educational opportunity that combines classroom instruction with engagement in the local community to deepen course concepts. Students derive a greater understanding of lessons, strengthen community, and learn firsthand the importance of civic activism.

I recently caught up with Lauren M., a 4th year neuroscience student at Tulane University. One of her favorite academic experiences at Tulane was her service learning course, Introduction to Social Innovation and Social Entrepreneurship. Her professor’s lessons focused on diversity as well as awareness of biases and prejudices. Then, one night per week, Lauren would travel to Joe Brown Park to play tennis with kids involved in A's and Aces, a non-profit her professor founded to bring academic assistance and activity to New Orleans youth. “The kids loved when we came because it was an exciting change for them,” Lauren recalled. She fondly remembers one 5th grade girl confiding in her, updating Lauren weekly on her home and school life. “I will take the information I learned in this course with me forever.” I’d like to think that 11 year old student feels similarly about her experience.

Tulane is repeatedly acknowledged as one of the most civic-minded universities in the country. Recognizing a dire need for rebuilding New Orleans in the wake of Hurricane Katrina, Tulane incorporated public service as a requirement for graduation. Students not only take service learning courses but also complete a public service project. Tulane’s Center for Public Service partners with over 600 organizations in New Orleans and houses the International Association for Research on Service-Learning and Community Engagement.

Almost 80% of Tulane’s student body comes from outside of Louisiana. College students don’t typically think of school as “home.” Tulane’s structure changes that dynamic, encouraging students to connect to New Orleans beyond campus. Most critically, Tulane students see that their sustained actions—however small they may seem at the time—make incremental positive changes that last. One strong community working to strengthen others—good ideas don’t have to be complex.

Perhaps that’s why the endless cycle of gun violence is so frustrating. Solutions are in plain sight. For those of us who want change, this is the stuff of nightmares. We’re shouting and no one hears, we’re banging on the glass and no one turns to look, we’re running as fast as we can to no avail. Since I began writing this essay, the House Judiciary Committee has assembled the Protecting Our Kids Act, and four more innocent Americans have been shot to death at a hospital in Tulsa. The proposed legislation directly draws on evidence and research. If and when the House passes the Act, can we count on 10 Senators to find the courage to vote with common sense?

Universities are signaling that we must count on community. They are searching for change-makers. High school students should be researching institutions dedicated to activism with the same diligence that admissions officers are looking for them. To become part of a college community is one thing; to become part of a college community that is devoted to assisting others is another.