Lakeside School

In the back-to-school edition of Inside Lakeside, Ari Worthman, director of college counseling, wrote about the need to shift our culture away from focusing on awards, titles, and credentials, and retraining students to search for meaning in what they do. Last month, he dispelled misperceptions about the role of activities in the Common Application. Below is the third piece in a yearlong series addressing how to change our culture around students’ engagement in co-curricular activities.

At the end of last month’s piece, I asked the question I imagine everyone is wondering: “Okay, Ari, you’ve wiped the slate clean and told us what our students shouldn’t do. But what should they do?”

You might remember the admissions dean who told me this summer, “I want to know what makes the student tick.” As students write about their activities, they want to succinctly explain how each connects to their interests, values, or goals, or how each highlights an element of their personality (because students have only 150 characters for each activity, they’ll likely address one and not all four).

But before they write about their activities, they first must choose activities that reflect their interests, values, goals, or personalities. Often, students and parents/guardians frame the question as, “Which activities should a student do for their college applications?”

But this is the wrong question. My answer is: “What intrigues them? That’s what they should do.”

Selecting activities to build a resume rarely produces strong applications. After all, telling colleges, “I chose this activity to look good on my college applications,” is a sure path to rejection. Sometimes, students go on to find meaning in activities that began as resume-builders, but when they don’t (which is often), the activity becomes nothing more than a bland application element, a credential detached from any overarching theme about their values, interests, goals, or personality.

A few years ago, I counseled a Lakeside senior who had played piano since age five. By 10th grade, she was burnt out: the weekly hours of practice had become nothing more than a chore. However, her parents insisted that she continue playing for her college applications. Over the years, she had earned many awards, but she didn’t intend to pursue music in college, so those awards weren’t of interest to colleges. In describing her relationship with the piano, she had little to write because the passion was gone and she didn’t feel connected to it. The thousands of hours playing the piano neither made her happy nor a stronger college applicant. 

Another Lakeside senior had engaged in numerous scientific research projects, driven by their parents who believed this was the recipe for admission to an Ivy League university. But research didn’t excite the student. They had always loved cars and dreamt of working as a mechanic part-time, which research inhibited from fitting into their schedule. Ultimately, the student had good college options, but not their top choices. That summer at a conference, I thought of this student when the Brown admissions dean mentioned that one of his favorite essays was about a student’s work in a mechanic shop. That student was admitted to Brown. Ours wasn’t.

Students and parents/guardians often assume incorrectly that doing certain “correct” or “optimal” activities make applications stand out. But they seldom do on their own. My former colleague at Haverford College – now the Tufts admissions dean – once commented that he never sees an activity, no matter how amazing or accomplished the student is, and admits the applicant. It’s when the activity reinforces a larger narrative about the student’s values, interests, goals, or personality that an applicant begins to stand out. 

What does this mean for the many adults – parents/guardians, teachers, advisors, coaches, mentors, etc. — to whom our students turn for guidance? We need to prioritize what interests them (or new activities they suspect might interest them). Deprioritize what you think colleges “want” to see. Over time, your student will discontinue some activities – that’s okay! — usually to channel their time and energy into ones that excite them. In their senior year, it will be their excitement for their endeavors, and not the endeavors themselves, that make their applications pop.

Admissions is an art, not a science. The application isn’t a computer code that, if designed correctly, outputs an admissions offer. Rather, if done well, it’s a short narrative — perhaps even a story — that weaves together multiple elements, including activities, from the student’s life to highlight key values, interests, goals, or parts of their personality. And there are infinite ways to tell a compelling story. Just walk into any bookstore and look at the endless shelves representing the diverse expressions of human passion, curiosity, and creativity.

So, what should our students do? They should craft their own stories. And those of us supporting them — parents/guardians, teachers, advisors, coaches, mentors, etc., — need to let them, beginning as early as middle school. Only then will they have compelling stories to share when they craft their applications in 12th grade.

 Ari Worthman is Lakeside’s director of college counseling. Reach him and other members of the team at info@lakesideschool.site.