How I Used to Read College Essays (as an admissions officer)
In my past life, long before my current gig, I was an undergraduate admission counselor at the University of Southern California. My gatekeeper status occasionally made me popular at parties, but more than anything else, I enjoyed being part of a very human process. Reading applications all day mostly entailed assessing the academic and overall fit of an applicant, but it was also an opportunity to read stories, often told through college essays. There are enough “how to” guides on writing the college essay (here’s one of my favorites) and even examples of “essays that worked.” I didn’t want to add yet another cook to the kitchen as rising high school seniors have hopefully started working on their essays at this point. So I’m going with perspective > instructive. I’m putting my admissions hat back on. With no particular advice in mind, please indulge me as I reflect on how I used to read college essays as an admission officer.
One important context
I will not (and you should not) assume that all admission officers read and interpret essays the same way. That’s why admissions committees exist. There is one element, however, that all admission officers have in common: time. Or more accurately, a lack of time. By necessity, we had to read applications much faster than it took for students to write and curate them. As much as I wanted to (over)analyze each essay, that was simply not possible. There were definitely exceptions where I took extra time if I knew that the student was going to be a borderline case, but in the admissions world, efficiency is important.
Saved the best for last
I always read the essay last. I know some admissions officers like to read the essay first. I understand the preference to see things from the student’s perspective before learning anything else, but for me, by the time I got to the essay, I felt like I had a fairly complete (maybe somewhat superficial) picture of the applicant in their high school and personal world. I had a sense of the student’s school and home life, their academic profile, extracurricular involvement, even others’ perspectives. If there were important circumstances to consider, hopefully the student, counselor, or a teacher mentioned it. My hope was that the essay would reveal something else that I hadn’t yet learned about the student. Maybe it filled a gap that I didn’t even know existed. There was nothing in particular I was expecting, I was just eagerly anticipating what the applicant felt was the most significant thing to share. It’s like listening to a band’s first album and then asking them to share their favorite track and the story behind it.
Think twice
I usually read the essay twice. The first time I would skim through it, taking note of any red flags (poor writing or questionable content) and any initial impressions. I’m sorry to say that occasionally that was all I needed to see. The second time was much more of a careful read where I tried to get to know the student and make more detailed notes where necessary. A strong essay would likely not save a student who was far from academically qualified, but there were plenty of times involving borderline cases when I wanted to send a message to my future self. If there was a word or phrase that would help me remember the applicant down the road, I would write that down. That often came from the essay.
It’s how you start AND how you finish
Inevitably, many essays sounded the same. They started the same, they ended the same, it’s exactly why certain topics are discouraged. Take the “mission trip” essay for example. Whenever an essay started with a description of, let’s say, the dilapidated conditions of the orphanage, I was already thinking “here we go again.” I would then brace myself for how the student intended to change people’s lives, but it was their life that was changed. It’s not that I didn’t perceive this moment as significant. It’s just that as a reader, I enjoyed reading essays that took me on a less predictable journey. The first and last paragraphs in particular were critical to me. The beginning really had to draw me or risk my attention fading, and by the end, I needed to gain some insight, not necessarily resolution. Which leads to my last point…
“So what?”
It is the question I kept asking myself as I read through an essay. What was the point? What new things did I learn? Sometimes, I didn’t learn anything new at all, which meant I didn’t write down any additional notes (a bad sign if the file came up again). I would occasionally get the sense that an applicant would write about what they thought they wanted admissions to hear, as if they wanted the subject matter to speak for itself. It is understandably difficult to write for an occasionally cynical audience, but the good news is that you can write about anything as long as the topic is significant to you. In fact, I enjoyed essays that took something seemingly mundane on the surface and made it their own. Those essays made me care about what they cared about. They made me go from “so what” to “ohh, that’s what.”
Final thoughts
I can’t help myself, so I will give you one piece of advice. Start now! I’ve written this in previous posts, but the sooner you start, the sooner you can potentially start over if necessary. Sometimes the essay goes through iterations of varying degrees before it takes its final form as a significant snapshot of your life. It’s hard to write something truly unique and maybe that’s why so many students have trouble getting started. Then go ahead and assume that someone else in the world is writing about the same topic. Just remember that every essay is about something…but it’s really about something else. Think about what will make your essay uniquely yours.