03 Apr The 100th Essay Rule
By Michelle Motoyoshi
There’s a mini-lecture I give to all my essays students early in our work together.
“You need to keep in mind that your essays aren’t the only ones the admission readers are reviewing. They look at dozens, maybe even hundreds of applications a day, and when they get to your essay, it may quite literally be the 100th they’ve read in that session. And as that 100th essay, your writing has to grab their attention and make them want to read to the end.”
Upon hearing this, students usually think, “Then I need to talk about something big I did or some life changing event I experienced.” They rack their brain for some major event from their lives – a high profile project they led, a serious illness that they or a loved one suffered, a trip to a Global South country where they helped local communities, or an elite program they participated in. In other words, they wonder, “How do I impress the admissions reader?”
In answer to their question, I give the following advice. “Instead of going ‘big,’” go ‘small’.” That is, I encourage them to write about some aspect of their ordinary, everyday experience.
Students initially resist this suggestion. They (actually most of us) think our daily lives are boring; it’s the same old, same old day after day. “What could possibly be interesting enough to write about?” they ask. My answer often surprises them: relationships. It’s our everyday lives that reveal how we are with others and what those connections mean to us. And it’s those connections that paint a picture of us as individuals.
Maybe a student made pancakes with their dad every Saturday. Maybe they had to share a bathroom with three brothers. Maybe they had to learn Russian to be able to speak to their grandmother. Maybe they had to get their sister ready for school in the morning. Ordinary experiences like these not only lend themselves more readily to a storytelling approach (which is generally more enjoyable to read), they feel real and relatable. They are more likely to make a reader smile or giggle or even shed a tear. Writing that can makes the reader feel naturally stands out.
Of course, taking everyday events and turning them into compelling narratives requires a second way to go small: zooming in on vivid, concrete details. Often students will relate their experiences in broad, general strokes; for example, they’ll write things like “I had to walk my sister to school everyday. I grew to appreciate this responsibility because it helped us grow closer.” This, of course, doesn’t give us a window into this relationship. So in session we use questions to dig. What time in the morning is it? Is your sister cooperative or does she resist getting ready? How far is the walk? What do you see, whom do you encounter along the way? What sorts of things do you talk about? It doesn’t take long for a narrative that feels unique and personal to emerge.
Ultimately, this is the point of college essays. They’re not a venue for students to toot their own horn (they’ve already done that in the activities section). Essays provide an opportunity to take all those impressive facts and figures in the rest of your child’s application and transform them into a living, breathing individual with thoughts, hopes, dreams, quirks, and a good heart. In other words, the essay should make the admissions reader think, “I like this kid. I want them on my campus.”
A lot of our work in our essay sessions is helping students access these deeper parts of their experiences. Exactly how an essay specialist handles this process varies, partly because each specialist is different, but mostly because each student is different. One thing we all do is create a safe, respectful space where students can explore, ask questions, and find new ways to express themselves. We push them a little, encourage them a lot, and walk with them until they arrive at a piece of writing that truly represents who they are.