Morgan's Sample Common App College Admissions Essay -- with my commentary Morgan's advice to applicants: "You've got to be vulnerable, or it's not going to work." Believe In Yourself Harder Your lowest point can be your turning point. I learned this in 10th grade when I told my mom about my reading problems. She didn’t believe me. Wasn’t she supposed to be my biggest supporter? I was scared. Were my feelings accurate or imagined? Was I just “a slow reader” or was it something else? Either way, I could not go on like this. I knew I hadn’t performed well on my first test of the year. When the grade was posted as 63, I was speechless, painfully holding back tears. My parents seemed furious (in reality, probably just confused). “Did you study?” I thought they’d be understanding, but “D” was a new game. I knew I’d have to work even harder to believe the affirmations I repeated daily, “I am smart, I am capable,” – reminders that my intelligence wasn’t determined by grades alone. Raised to have agency, one of my greatest fears is turning into someone who looks for pity or sees myself as a victim. To avoid this, I’d study 10+ hours for one test– unsustainable. Would overdrive improve my performance? My grades slipped; my anxiety climbed. As my education and future depended on my actions, I admitted to my advisor there was a problem, advocating for her to speak to my mom. This paid off: we learned I wasn’t “just” a slow reader, but there was a bigger problem that I received help to address. Aware there would be a day when I’d have to stand up for myself, I never imagined it would be at home. My parents had always encouraged positive self-talk, emphasizing the importance of feeling confident in our skin and having pride in our heritage. They taught us always to give 100% effort, never quit, and find paths forward. These beliefs were pivotal to the development of my self-esteem, my crown jewel. Now, when seemingly no one validated my perspective, I was forced to Continue Reading …
Wisdom
Writing About Your Weaknesses in Your College Essay
A piece in which I say YES YOU CAN and tell you a story about my sour relationship with math. Will My Weaknesses Work Against Me in My College Essay? I had a parent reach out and ask if their kid was hurting their chances in their college essay by writing so articulately about their weaknesses. The answer is: no. Not if other ingredients are there. To be articulate about your weaknesses, to reckon with them honestly and without self-pity, to show transformation in your character (as this student did), these themselves are strengths. (And also commendable qualities in grown-up people: I know many who still can’t do this without elaborate defenses, and yelping ego). To also write well in the process, and think methodically? Well, these are prized traits in college admissions essays. So I want to take a minute to experiment with writing about one of my weaknesses--starts with an M, ends with an H, and has AT in the middle. 4 letters. Guess it yet? Continue Reading …
Frog and Toad Write Your College Essay
Frog and Toad Write Your College Essay In one episode of the children’s book series Frog and Toad, Toad is concerned. His friend Frog has gone alone to their favorite rock, unannounced. Frog and Toad announce everything to one another, so, yes, this is a little strange. Toad does what any anthropomorphizing amphibian would do in a vacuum of information: he starts making stuff up. Does Frog not like him anymore? Is Frog mad? Does Frog think Toad is not a good friend? Did the flies they had at their last dinner party suck? (They are not true to their species: they eat sandwiches, cookies and ice tea). Did Toad do something wrong? Continue Reading …
What the teens taught me on 9/11
TO mark the anniversary of 9/11, I'm not going to dispense college essay advice. I'm going to let the teens in this story speak for me. And to my teen writers and applicants, remember that how you reflect on your memories now will change over the years, and that we love you, and we need you to be you. What The Teens Taught Me As a First-Year Teacher on 9/11/01 When I worked in a prestigious NYC private school as a Latin teacher, my first hour of my first day teaching, as a total newbie, was September 11th 2001. The Sept 11th. I was 21 years old, barely out of college, a mere four years older than my oldest students, at the same school I had attended 6th-12th grades. I had been a teacher officially for all of 10 minutes when the first plane hit. That bright morning, the workmen on the roof across the street went berserk, shouting and cursing fantastically and pointing at something our view obstructed. My classroom was on the 9th floor, and the high school students ran to the window excitedly to look for the cause of the fracas. ”No matter what is happening outside the window, what’s happening in here is always more important,” I chided them--because of course it doesn’t get more exciting than the opening spiel to a Latin Language course. They ignored me. I didn’t know then that the ending of verbs would not be the most important thing, or that certain verbs--crashed--could grind everything, including our world as we understood it, to a halt. Continue Reading …
Chill out writing strategies that work
I promise these are writing strategies that work... ...only if you do them. These strategies might feel uncomfortable and awkward at first, but so does being born. And that didn't stop us, did it? Both writing strategies involve a wall, which everyone has or can find. Any wall will do! Nothing special there. After you've learned the practice, you'll be able to IMAGINE a wall, but it helps at first to have a physical wall to use. Strategies that work: Being Seen Sit in front of the wall. Elevate your hips on a support or cushion if your knees are annoyed right away. Feel or imagine a tall spine and the dignity you were born with. Relax your shoulders (always). Imagine the wall is looking at you. It can see you. Its eyes are the warm accepting eyes of a grandparent, or any adult who cares for you immensely. If you don't have an adult like that in your life, invent one, or imagine your ancestor, or a really loving person in a movie. Your only job is to let yourself be seen. Keep relaxing. Don't try to hide anything from the wall-- it's just a wall! When you feel done, get up, but don't feel the need to snap out of it. What if the people in your world could really see you? What would they see? Strategies that work: Breathing Fully Start the same way: sit in front of your wall as comfortably as possible. Imagine the wall has a mural on it. Imagine the coolest, most vivid mural you can think of, or look one up, first, so you can have a bright image in mind. But just one problem: this mural has somehow become covered over in dust and funk! As you inhale, imagine and truly feel that you are slowly drawing a layer of dust off the mural, revealing a gorgeous, exciting piece of art. As you exhale, imagine that you are scattering the dust, revealing more of the art. Breathe in very slowly, so none of the dust goes up your nose: you are just clearing space. Breath out gently, so that the layer of dust is scattered lightly: you are Continue Reading …
Change with the Change: Writing Advice for trying times
A story about dying is always a familiar story, right? The ultimate change challenge? “They are dying!” I said, like this was a surprise or needed pointing out. The daffodils, poster girls for Spring, now looked like used latex gloves* on stubbornly green stems. My mother gave us the bunch early in self-isolation, soon after New York City had gone into lockdown. She cut them from the ruthless crop in her yard, as she did every spring when they briefly appeared. When my husband dropped off ice cream and Lysol spray (pandemic essentials), she sent them home for us--my husband, our 22 month old and our 4 year old-- to bring the outside in. The daffodils made me cry because they work. They are the symbol of arrival and transience, and they live and die boldly and quickly. They were also, very simply, from my mother. At that moment, my belly was ribboned with anxiety that she and my father, too, were facing imminent COVID transience. I imagined what so many are experiencing: final separation from us in an overwhelmed and handicapped hospital system. The fear for my parents, the longing to cling, flared up: is it ridiculous cling to summer’s bounty when autumn has already dusted the trees of their leaves? For how long can you save that last blueberry before it shrivels? But despite my contrafactual wish otherwise, die the daffodils did. I did not want to look at a dying thing on my table but I equally did not want to throw them out. Problem. Turn it into Art & Make Your Meaning So I dried them. I turned them upside down, bound their stems with a rubber band, and hung them from a random nail on the wall with a garbage twisty-tie. Their vibrant yellow faded, their vibrant green went dormant inside an unremarkable brown. But they did not rot, and they became something else beautiful. Something I could keep. I know, snooze, a story about daffodils drying. But stay with me here. Days later, my Continue Reading …