Which can be a bit of a problem when the college application essay arrives. The same question is posed in countless ways, couched in terms of experience and community and activities and hopes and dreams: What makes you so special? Nothing, is the initial reaction. Absolutely nothing.
Yesterday, I met with a high school senior who is desperately trying to get started. Okay, his mom is desperately trying to get him started, but that's beside the point. I've known the mom for several years, but never met her son. She sat with us for a while, reminding him to tell me about all the things he does. He sat, staring straight ahead, too polite to roll his eyes, clearly wondering why any of this stuff matters. As much as I wanted mom to stay and help me to tap into her son's weighty silence, I was relieved when she left.
He was dismissive about his activities, even though it was clear that he had excelled. Dismissive, that is, until I began to pry, to ferret out the details. I wasn't interested so much in what he did, but why, and how, and maybe even the people he's met along the way. The quiet boy who was convinced he had nothing to say became animated, his eyes sparkling as he described how one simple activity affected his days. As it turns out, there are other things he's done, other things he's experienced, that make his entire face come alive when he speaks of them. Go figure.
There's a country song called We're Just Like You, Only Prettier. That may work for the southern belle crowd, but up in these parts, with college application season upon us, the differences need to be a bit more stark. The kids I meet with, as it turns out, aren't just like anyone. They are, each one of them, eighteen years' worth of unique history, and on the threshold of so much more.
It might not be a bad idea for the rest of us, every once in a while, to write a college essay -- to remind us not only of where we've been, but of all the possibilities that lay ahead.
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