As we reach the cusp of releasing our decisions for the Class of 2018, my life as an admissions officer gets emotionally complicated. Some students I adore will find themselves elated by our work here at Tufts, and others will find themselves deeply disappointed.
The tide of applications is coming in, and it’s coming fast. More than 10,000 applications will arrive between now and the deadline. And the truth is that there is no difference between submitting a month before the deadline or submitting a hot minute before the deadline. So, for those of you who are still working, who are somewhere between just finishing your essays and just beginning them, you’ve got me on your side. My dean says constantly to start writing early and to finish your app early, and you didn’t. So what? You’re here now, and I’m here to help.
My lullaby in the evening is likely an episode of BBC’s Planet Earth and my alarm in the morning is a song about the miasma of incandescent plasma that is our sun. Next to that alarm the book is my nightstand. On my nightstand is a stack of books and at the top of that stack is, at the time of writing, Jack Kerouac’s unpublished first novel (which I picked up because I went to talk by a woman who designs book covers, and when I asked what her favorite cover was, she said that one). Underneath that book, by the way, are travelogues by Mark Twain and historical nonfiction about Belgian colonialism in Africa.
I'll admit it, I frequent CollegeConfidential.com. There's a lot about the community I admire - the desire to help each other, the frankness of conversations - but I'm drawn to the space because it's unfiltered and often messy. I like mess.