Here’s the thing about the college application process: it’s completely and utterly dehumanizing.
Everyone starts to see themselves (and you) as a GPA and set of SAT or ACT scores or a set of extracurriculars. You’re forced to quantify and qualify yourself in a limited number of words. How the hell are you supposed to summarize all the best parts of you in a 650-word essay? Sure, supplemental essays will let you write a bit more about yourself, pack a little more personality into the application. But really, whatever college you apply to will never know you 100%.
Think about it – the admissions officers never see you singing at the top of your lungs to your favorite song or hear you cracking terrible (but hilarious) puns or smell the damn-good apple pies you bake at one in the morning. They will know your grades in school, the number of clubs you’re part of, maybe how many volunteer hours you’ve put in. They will not know of the countless all-nighters you’ve pulled trying to keep your depressed friend alive while simultaneously trying to finish four different assignments, or of the families and support networks you’ve formed within your clubs, or of the sheer width of the grin that comes along with making someone’s day just a little brighter.
But I still only have 650 words to prove I’m worthy of getting an education at their “fine establishment.” In countless combinations of the same 26 letters, I must recount my past and explain why my struggles make me a good student. I must predict the future and convince them that yes, I am worth the investment of education and I will hopefully be part of that small percentage of college graduates who actually have jobs. I must prove that I deserve the same opportunities as someone whose parents could pay for four years of SAT prep and private tutoring and college counseling.
And it’s cutthroat – especially in a place like Great Neck. The top 20-30% of students are all fighting to get into the same five schools. Your friends suddenly become competition, and everyone treads cautiously around the topic of numbers and essays. And everyone – everyone – is stressed out. Why wouldn’t we be? After at least 12 years in the system – being told what to do, which tests to study for, which classes to take – we’re faced with the weight of really, actually deciding our future. All any of us look forward to is the first day of second semester.
At this point in late January though, most of us are done writing essays. From here on out, it’s mostly smooth sailing – some financial aid forms and maybe a few interviews – and waiting. So. Much. Waiting.
Anyway, enough rambling. Here are my 650 words.
Everyone starts to see themselves (and you) as a GPA and set of SAT or ACT scores or a set of extracurriculars. You’re forced to quantify and qualify yourself in a limited number of words. How the hell are you supposed to summarize all the best parts of you in a 650-word essay? Sure, supplemental essays will let you write a bit more about yourself, pack a little more personality into the application. But really, whatever college you apply to will never know you 100%.
Think about it – the admissions officers never see you singing at the top of your lungs to your favorite song or hear you cracking terrible (but hilarious) puns or smell the damn-good apple pies you bake at one in the morning. They will know your grades in school, the number of clubs you’re part of, maybe how many volunteer hours you’ve put in. They will not know of the countless all-nighters you’ve pulled trying to keep your depressed friend alive while simultaneously trying to finish four different assignments, or of the families and support networks you’ve formed within your clubs, or of the sheer width of the grin that comes along with making someone’s day just a little brighter.
But I still only have 650 words to prove I’m worthy of getting an education at their “fine establishment.” In countless combinations of the same 26 letters, I must recount my past and explain why my struggles make me a good student. I must predict the future and convince them that yes, I am worth the investment of education and I will hopefully be part of that small percentage of college graduates who actually have jobs. I must prove that I deserve the same opportunities as someone whose parents could pay for four years of SAT prep and private tutoring and college counseling.
And it’s cutthroat – especially in a place like Great Neck. The top 20-30% of students are all fighting to get into the same five schools. Your friends suddenly become competition, and everyone treads cautiously around the topic of numbers and essays. And everyone – everyone – is stressed out. Why wouldn’t we be? After at least 12 years in the system – being told what to do, which tests to study for, which classes to take – we’re faced with the weight of really, actually deciding our future. All any of us look forward to is the first day of second semester.
At this point in late January though, most of us are done writing essays. From here on out, it’s mostly smooth sailing – some financial aid forms and maybe a few interviews – and waiting. So. Much. Waiting.
Anyway, enough rambling. Here are my 650 words.