Tufts Blogs

When I first applied to Tufts, my “Why Tufts?” essay was admittedly simplistic. The Indigenous Center caught my attention and the campus's proximity to my Connecticut home seemed practical. Though I didn't get to meet any Indigenous students or visit the center during my application process, I was intrigued by its very existence on campus, which was something that made Tufts stand out among other universities I was considering. I bypassed mentioning academics or the student atmosphere I'd glimpsed during my brief campus tour, answers I assumed admissions officers expected.

I could have easily written a “Why NOT Tufts?” essay instead. The campus hills (which still leave me breathless walking from downhill to my uphill dorm) intimidated me, and I watched many friends choose state universities with their seemingly vibrant social scenes. Nevertheless, Tufts offered compelling financial aid, and after exploring the curriculum, I committed.

My reasons for staying, however, have evolved significantly. If I were to write my “Why Tufts?” essay today, it would reflect a deeper connection to the community. And it would go something like this:

Though I maintain critiques of Tufts, I remain committed to this university for reasons that bypass the initial simplistic appeal of geographic proximity to my Connecticut home or the mere existence of the Indigenous Center. What keeps me rooted here are the connections, challenges, and personal growth that have become the true foundation of my Tufts experience, elements far more substantial than any logistical consideration could ever be.

My academic advisor has evolved from a curriculum guide to family-like mentor whose profound influence shapes not just my academic choices, but my personal development. During a particularly challenging period last spring, she didn't simply offer office hours, she extended an invitation to lunch, creating space for conversation that addressed not just my academic concerns but my holistic well-being. When confronted with my uncertainty about my major, she moved beyond highlighting program requirements and instead initiated discussions about my core values and aspirations. With remarkable insight, she identified strengths within me that I had overlooked, guiding me toward courses and opportunities that revealed my passion for educational theory and teaching methodologies; discoveries that now form the foundation of my professional aspirations. Those recommendation letters she wrote with barely a day's notice weren't hastily assembled; they were thoughtfully crafted documents for which she sacrificed personal time to ensure my applications wouldn't bear the consequences of my procrastination. She's consistently forwarded scholarship opportunities precisely aligned with my interests and advocated for my placement in an internship that became a cornerstone experience of my undergraduate education. When I secured that position, her excitement mirrored my own, and throughout that summer, we maintained communication about my experiences and growth. My advisor hasn't merely steered my course selection or checked boxes on degree requirements, but has helped shape not just my education, but who I am becoming.

At Tufts, I've cultivated friendships that exceed superficiality, connections rooted not in convenience or shared activities, but in aligned values, authentic care, and mutual growth. Within these relationships, we challenge each other's perspectives with a respectful curiosity that nurtures both intellectual expansion and emotional intimacy. There's a rare safety in these friendships; I never hesitate to voice uncertainties, knowing vulnerability will never be met with judgment or condescension. These friends have witnessed my rawest moments and celebrated my triumphs with equal dedication. Our shared narratives, spanning from midnight collaborative projects fueled by caffeine and determination to spontaneous vacations squeezed between academic commitments, have created a collection of meaningful experiences that define our time together. One friend's devotion to dance inspired me to step far outside my comfort zone into a dance course where, despite my lack of natural talent, I discovered unexpected joy. Another's enthusiasm for education led me to an introductory course that blossomed into my academic minor, a path I might never have explored without their influence. Unlike the transient connections that often characterize college life, these relationships possess a depth and authenticity that will endure well beyond graduation. The foundation we've established through genuine investment in each other's growth has created bonds that will remain central to my identity for decades to come. 

Besides the people whom I cherish, I've discovered niche classes that have inspired my own aspirations as a future educator. Small, discussion-based classrooms have gradually built my confidence to participate more actively over the years. My imposter syndrome has diminished significantly since freshman year, and I often preserve readings from favorite courses, knowing I'll continue reflecting on them long after the semester ends. The Indigenous Center remains a cornerstone of my Tufts experience, but not as a physical space, but because of the people within it, the significance behind every piece of art on its walls, and the memories created there. In this special place, I've pulled all-nighters with my closest friend, participated in ceremonies, and both shared and received wisdom through educational events. Its importance transcends simply being a center with “Indigenous” in its name; it represents community, heritage, and belonging.

While my initial attraction to Tufts may have been based on limited factors, my decision to stay has been continually affirmed by the richness of my chosen community, intellectual growth, and personal development that now define my college experience, all elements that are far more meaningful than any I could have articulated in that original application essay.