Adventures of a First-Time Admissions Officer
I have a vivid memory of emerging from my college-essay-writing haze five years ago and walking to the kitchen to make lunch (read: pour a bowl of cereal. Let’s just say that none of my essays were about my affinity for the culinary arts). As I stood there in the kitchen, I started thinking about where my essays would end up—specifically, with whom they would end up. And I had a realization.
Given that the author of the blog you’re reading is a newly minted admissions officer (hi!), it would make sense to assume that my cereal-pouring epiphany had something to do with discovering my future career. But the opposite happened. The thought that came to me in that moment was, “Who on earth would want to be an admissions officer?”
You see, I was under the impression that everything that felt horrible about the application process—the uncertainty of my fate, the lack of control, the long wait until April 1st—was the lifeblood of some people who sat in an unmarked building somewhere, waiting to rifle through a stack of papers and find fault with who I was as a person.
It was only later that I realized: 1) the admissions building is marked, and 2) while the application process is all of those things (uncertain, hard to control, a long wait), admissions officers are the people who advocate for applicants. We take the time to get to know you and where you’re coming from (your school, your city, your grading system), scrawl out favorite lines from your essays, and, if we think you’ll be a good fit, make an impassioned case for you in committee.
Of course, it’s easy for me to say that now. I eat lunch with admissions officers every day, laugh at their sub-par puns about edamame, and watch them put so much care into every part of their jobs. But while I get to see that, all you get to see is a low acceptance rate, some word limits, and a little button that says “submit.”
So I have a proposal for you. Over the next few months, while I’m learning the ins-and-outs of being an admissions officer, I’ll share it all with you. My hope is that, by the time you’re nearing the end of your essay writing, you’ll have a little more faith in the process than I did. But who knows? Maybe you’ll just be left with more questions, like why we even bother to laugh at bad puns about edamame (is it just to bolster our stunted comedic talent? Are they maybe a little bit funny?).
In the meantime, I wish you good luck as you begin writing your essays—what, time for a cereal break already?
