As we travel around the world speaking with students and families we spend a lot of time answering questions. Some of the questions require us to dig through the catalog or bulletin to make sure we're giving the most accurate response, others, however, don't; they make us cringe. Maybe it's the lack of clarity or forethought in the questions, but whatever it is doesn't sit well in our stomachs. Here are the questions I would advise students to rethink:
1. What is the difference between your school and _______________?
Problem: Well the most correct answer is simple; everything. We are the only school in the world with our global coordinates. We are the only school in the world with our students and faculty. We are the only school in the world with our admissions staff. The problem with this question is that it doesn't get at the types of difference that actually make a difference. The purpose of higher education is to educate. And while there are a lot of similarities between schools, the major differences tend to be philosophical and foundational. The way resources are allocated throughout an institution determines the approach, practice, and experience of that education.
Solution: The best way to approach the difference question is to give us something to work with. At school A, their approach to teaching philosophy is __________, what is your schools approach? For the difference question to be an effective one, you need to identify what it is you're looking to be different. Giving us the name of a school is not enough. We don't spend much time studying other colleges and universities; our school keeps us pretty occupied. So when you ask us to help differentiate our school from another school, it's your responsibility to bring information about the other school to us so that we can help you understand the difference or similarity. Furthermore, if you don't know much about school A's philosophy department, what difference does it make how we're different.
2. What are your strongest programs?
Problem: I have yet to hear a college representative say that their school's biology program is the worst program at their institution. Admissions people don't talk like that. While there are some programs that receive more national attention, it can't be concluded that those programs are strongest. Publicity does not equal strength. The fact that another program in the institution may not have as much national publicity doesn't make it a weaker program.
Solution: The strength of any schools academic program centers on its goals and the resources that are used to support those goals. A better way to articulate the strength question is to identify what you might be interested in and ask questions about the types of resources that are available to students in that program. If you can articulate what's important to you, we can inform you as to whether or not we can provide you with appropriate support and opportunities.
3. What's the most important part of my application?
Problem: Asking this question is like asking, which is more important, your heart, brain, liver, or blood? Well without any of them you'd die. They are all important because they all work together, when healthy. Your application is the same way, all the pieces work together. None of them exist in a vacuum, they are interrelated and connected. Each part identifies another facet of you. As admissions people our goal is not to dissect you like a lab rat, but instead to observe you with the eye of an astute artist. In this way it is the collective synergy of your whole application that is important.
Solution: Ask yourself the question, what is important to me and how do I want that presented in my application.
4. What do I need to do to get into your school?
Problem: Easy; be admitted. For most students this is probably the most pressing question. Tell me what I need to do to get in and I will do it. The problem with this approach is that it's not authentic. We aren't interested in seeing how well you can try to give us what you think we want. Your goal should be much simpler; give us who you actually are. Make it your goal to submit an application that best reflects you, not what you think we want. You giving us what you think we want is like going to a party where you're the only one who came in costume; you'd be grossly out of place and feel very uncomfortable. Your application should not be a costume, instead it should be you in your natural attire.
Solution: After submitting and completing your application the process is out of your hands. This is a great life lesson. There will be things in your life that you can't control and you will have to learn to deal with that. Colleges and universities make admission decisions that are in line with their priorities as an institution. Most schools do not release these priorities because students would put on "costumes" to reflect these priorities. Your wait list or rejection to a school is not necessarily a reflection of your lack of credentials as much as it is a reflection of that particular school's priorities. It is not a personal attack.
Final thoughts
You sit in a seat of great privilege. Most students in this country and the world will not go to college; you will. There is no one perfect college for you. Just like you have multiple shoes that fit you well, you will have multiple colleges and universities that fit you well. Yeah you'll have some favorites here and there, and that's alright. But do not lose site that being able to choose is a privilege, one that shouldn't be overshadowed by extreme disappointment about where you didn't get in. If you aren't admitted to Swarthmore, make it your goal to show Swat just what we missed out on; win a Nobel, cure cancer, do something great that will change our world. :)
4 questions to re-think
Deal or no deal?
What a Deal. I found this really affordable hotel in one of America’s most exclusive neighborhoods; they make television shows about this area. I’m excited, I mean I can’t wait to see what amenities and palatial service await me, all for the low price of $130/night. Admissions people live for wonderful deals like this, low price hotels in really nice places with really comfortable beds and high speed internet; high speed is key, especially if it’s “free”.
I pulled up to the hotel on such and such lane after I passed it twice; there was no address posted on the outside. I made a sharp right turn into the hotel garage and to my immediate right was the hotel lobby. Although the sign on the make-shift desk said “be back in five minutes”, I waited a good 15 before my young hostess returned to check me in. Her set-up was contained in two parking spaces. There were walls erected around her to make it look like an office. The silk flowers on the counter and crooked picture on the wall gave the space ambiance. Parking space 4, the lobby, had a chair, a floor flower pot, and a half-wall painted yellow. After a few minutes of her typing stuff into the computer and me signing some papers I was given my room key.
With my key in hand I head to the other side of the garage to find the elevators. As I leave parking space 4, the lobby, I hand my car keys to the valet. The valet parks my car two spaces down from the lobby in parking space 6. I walk out of the dark garage into the smack dab middle of a construction zone. There is yellow tape roping of certain areas, drywall dust, hanging plastic, rags, planks of plywood, and a sign; “Sorry for our appearance we are undergoing serious renovations.” The sign really brought clarification in a way only the obvious can do.
A few coughs later I found the elevator corridor. After walking past the first set of doors, behind a partially constructed wall I saw the elevator buttons. I put down my bags, stuck my arm in the hole in the wall, literally, and pressed the “up” elevator button. Instantly the doors opened, I got in, and pressed five. In less than a minute the elevator doors opened again.
All I see is shiny black. I turn left and walk down the hallway dragging my bags behind me looking for 509. One side of the hallway the numbers are going up, on the other side they are going down. I don’t see 509, so I head in the other direction. Just a few steps past the elevator on the left is 509. The numbers on the doors are these little clear sleek plexiglass numbers with a blue-white light illuminating them against the shiny black. I’ve finally made it to my room; the lap of under-construction-luxury for the next two days.
There are two chairs; one has no back, the other no arms. The desk is a sleek glass and wood modern minimalist piece. The bed is about two and half inches off the ground, but firm to the touch, which I like. The headboard is this floor to ceiling geometrical leather thingy; almost like a poorly done Tetris wall. Where there is no leather, there is shiny black. There are shiny black blocks attached to the ceiling too. I later find out they are reflective. On both sides of the bed are these black and silver (shiny) globe lights hanging from the ceiling. They are controlled by the switch on the other side of the room near the entrance. Just left of the bed is my balcony. I love balconies. Without the weight of my bags, I easily move between the desk and the bed to other side of the room to check out my view. I pull back the silver polyester (shiny) curtains and unlock the balcony doors. I can’t see much through the tinted glass, plus it’s dark outside. I open the doors and walk out and am instantly greeted by scaffolding. Beyond the point of agitation, I laugh. The room needs to air out so I leave the balcony doors open. As I sit at the wood and glass desk in the backless black and sliver (shiny) chair and unpack my computer, I realize that this experience is a lot like the college selection process. I based my decision to stay here solely on prestige and affordability. For the next two days, I’ll have to live with my mistake.
I pulled up to the hotel on such and such lane after I passed it twice; there was no address posted on the outside. I made a sharp right turn into the hotel garage and to my immediate right was the hotel lobby. Although the sign on the make-shift desk said “be back in five minutes”, I waited a good 15 before my young hostess returned to check me in. Her set-up was contained in two parking spaces. There were walls erected around her to make it look like an office. The silk flowers on the counter and crooked picture on the wall gave the space ambiance. Parking space 4, the lobby, had a chair, a floor flower pot, and a half-wall painted yellow. After a few minutes of her typing stuff into the computer and me signing some papers I was given my room key.
With my key in hand I head to the other side of the garage to find the elevators. As I leave parking space 4, the lobby, I hand my car keys to the valet. The valet parks my car two spaces down from the lobby in parking space 6. I walk out of the dark garage into the smack dab middle of a construction zone. There is yellow tape roping of certain areas, drywall dust, hanging plastic, rags, planks of plywood, and a sign; “Sorry for our appearance we are undergoing serious renovations.” The sign really brought clarification in a way only the obvious can do.
A few coughs later I found the elevator corridor. After walking past the first set of doors, behind a partially constructed wall I saw the elevator buttons. I put down my bags, stuck my arm in the hole in the wall, literally, and pressed the “up” elevator button. Instantly the doors opened, I got in, and pressed five. In less than a minute the elevator doors opened again.
All I see is shiny black. I turn left and walk down the hallway dragging my bags behind me looking for 509. One side of the hallway the numbers are going up, on the other side they are going down. I don’t see 509, so I head in the other direction. Just a few steps past the elevator on the left is 509. The numbers on the doors are these little clear sleek plexiglass numbers with a blue-white light illuminating them against the shiny black. I’ve finally made it to my room; the lap of under-construction-luxury for the next two days.
There are two chairs; one has no back, the other no arms. The desk is a sleek glass and wood modern minimalist piece. The bed is about two and half inches off the ground, but firm to the touch, which I like. The headboard is this floor to ceiling geometrical leather thingy; almost like a poorly done Tetris wall. Where there is no leather, there is shiny black. There are shiny black blocks attached to the ceiling too. I later find out they are reflective. On both sides of the bed are these black and silver (shiny) globe lights hanging from the ceiling. They are controlled by the switch on the other side of the room near the entrance. Just left of the bed is my balcony. I love balconies. Without the weight of my bags, I easily move between the desk and the bed to other side of the room to check out my view. I pull back the silver polyester (shiny) curtains and unlock the balcony doors. I can’t see much through the tinted glass, plus it’s dark outside. I open the doors and walk out and am instantly greeted by scaffolding. Beyond the point of agitation, I laugh. The room needs to air out so I leave the balcony doors open. As I sit at the wood and glass desk in the backless black and sliver (shiny) chair and unpack my computer, I realize that this experience is a lot like the college selection process. I based my decision to stay here solely on prestige and affordability. For the next two days, I’ll have to live with my mistake.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
