“Fit” is one of those words admission officers and guidance counselors use with great regularity but I’m not sure everyone understands what we mean when we talk about it. “Oh, she’s such a great fit!” a college counselor said to me last week as she pitched a candidate (as opposed to pitching a fit, which would be a very different interaction) who was applying Early Decision. “I can totally see her at Tufts.” One assumes ED and fit are synonymous.
So what is this magical thing called “fit”? When I mention it, it’s not unusual for a student to scrunch up her face or maybe squint back at me. It’s an expression that says, “The admissions guy is talking in code again.” I understand. “Fit” sounds like admissions happy talk, a kind of loosey-goosey jargon. “Fit?!” a pragmatic guy might respond. “What SAT scores do I need!”
But “fit” is actually really important. In fact, besides the consideration of academic preparation and program, it might be one of the most important dimensions of a college search. It’s certainly something we consider as we read every application. Sure, it’s a highly subjective assessment but, as former Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart famously said about pornography, “I know it when I see it.” When I read a file, I know it when I see it. Fit is a tangible abstraction. (Sorry if I sound like a philosophy professor…)
“He’s so Tuftsy…” is a common compliment within the admissions committee. It means we notice a match between you and us. It makes us nod in knowing appreciation that student and school are aligned. The impression from the application suggests a good match, a fortuitous pairing. It says, “If you admit this student, she’ll be happy here and will do well.” And, not surprisingly, a “good fit” often prompts an offer of admission. It’s one of those decision points that an outsider might not grasp but the admission committee clearly values.
This assessment of fit is a two-way street. As a potential applicant, you should be looking for it and assessing it as you follow a tour guide around campus or listen to an info session, while you are reading a blog or watching a virtual tour. Do you catch yourself nodding? Are you smiling? Fit is registering. I remember reading a viewbook from what I thought was one of my top choices and telling my mother “Something doesn’t feel right.” She quizzed me about my reaction but all I could say was “I’m not seeing myself here.” (Remember, I was 17 in the pre-web era so print materials were all I had.) It was an impression but it was a strong one. Something felt off although I could not articulate the idea. I was sensing the lack of fit.
“Should someone apply only if they’re a good fit?” a student recently asked me. I don’t know why someone would apply to a college that wasn’t a good fit. Fit reflects a sense of comfort with a place, the feeling someone gets when buying a house and knowing it’s a home. (That probably makes more sense to parents than students, so please translate accordingly.)
When you “see” fit, when you have that “light bulb moment” like you see in a cartoon, highlight that happy connection in your application. It’s why we ask “Why Tufts?” on the supplement. That innocent little question (and your pithy answer in 50 words or less…) gives the admissions reader a really important clue about whether or not Tufts is the right place for you. (You might argue with our fitness to make that call but that’s our job.)
To illustrate fit, here are a few snippets from some recent “Why Tufts?” responses. Some highlighted academic fit:
Others focused on fit via vibe:
For others, a feeling of comfort was an important clue:
And sometimes it was instinctive:
These varied responses reflect the many different versions of fit. All were germane. There’s no “right” answer when you’re considering this idea.
Fit is an impression. It’s a feeling, a “tangible abstraction” as I said. Sometimes it’s more heart than head; it’s a whisper that says “I can see myself here.” It’s very personal. And you know it when you see it.