Living a Lie

<p>Opinion piece by a current Dartmouth student:</p>

<p>TheDartmouth.com</a> | Living a Lie</p>

<p>Excerpt:</p>

<p>" It was my entry into this field that exposed me to the truth behind the “passions” of my peers. It was my research partner, who was experienced in how these things worked, who trained me on how to present to a judge at science competitions. I can still hear her yelling, “Don’t just point at the graph! Don’t you want to get into college? You have to say ‘This project is going to revolutionize cancer therapy!’” I remember looking blankly back at her and saying “…But it’s not.” We then proceeded to argue about how I was going to cause her to be rejected from her dream college, as usual.</p>

<p>She’s at Yale now.</p>

<p>As I began to have frank conversations with her and others around me during junior year of high school, I realized more and more that many of the passions people were planning to write about in their college essays were actually superficial and pursued solely for the purpose of getting into college. The genuine interests I thought people had in sports, music, community service and even academics mostly turned out to be fake. Few people I talked to told me that they actually enjoyed doing these things or wanted to continue with them later in life. When senior year rolled around, quite a few students from my high school were accepted to highly selective colleges, ranging from the University of Michigan to the Wharton School of Business to Dartmouth. Following their admission, many proceeded to drop their extracurricular activities, cease participating in community service projects and even sleep through the AP tests in May. At the same time, I saw others who worked hard until the end and pursued things they were genuinely interested in rejected from their top choices because they did not craft their resumes to make them seem like they were better than everyone else."</p>

<p>

</p>

<p>This attitude is all over the chances thread. I did a few things here and there that I love doing, but I was told they were average at best. A few were common, but still, not many people do my biggest EC, so you can imagine I was confused. The fact that kids who do what they love sometimes pale in comparision bothers me. I don’t think it happens to everyone (I got into my top choice) but I’m still doing all my activities, admission or no. </p>

<p>They’re fun. I can’t imagine doing things for the pure purpose of looking good and not enjoying them.</p>

<p>

</p>

<p>This also worries me. It’s rather sad, actually.</p>

<p>I have a hard time with the author’s perspective. I don’t see her perspective in a positive light … at all. I mean, the author gets a ringside seat into how the world works and her major conclusion is that her “successful” peers are liars. Here’s a thought … maybe those peers took a good look at “the game” and figured out how to win at it. Perhaps that’s laudable … perhaps not. But labeling peers as liars is not a trait that leads to success. JMHO.</p>

<p>

</p>

<p>I didn’t take it to mean that they lie about everything, just that many teens do lie about what they care the most about in order to get in. This may be playing the game, but that doesn’t always make it any less of a lie if you’re not doing it because you care about it.</p>

<p>I know of private schools that are complicit with this approach, suggesting students start clubs or organizations to show leadership (and helping them do so), tailoring internships based on target schools (even though the student expressed no interest in the internship), and making sure there is the right mix of leadership, academic, service, and athletic ECs. Many more “play the game” than is generally admitted. Sure, there are the truly committed (like every S & D on CC), but many are in it just for the college application. I’m not sure the lesson that teaches is a good one, but it probably is the way many make it in today’s world. And it does keep the kids off the streets.</p>

<p>As my son would say, Chill. She uses the term “liar” as a journalistic pitch, not as an assault on their character in all things. </p>

<p>Most notable to me were the comments that followed especially both by Jon Appleton who states (the author’s) observations have been confirmed to him through his experience as a professor for 43 years.</p>

<p>Honestly, it doesn’t seem so bad. If the work is quality, who cares if the money raised for March of Dimes was once touched by someone who had the sinister intention of getting into Yale in two years? It is awful if someone with mercenary goals beat out someone who was genuinely sincere, but I’m not convinced that that happens often enough to make the whole idea of service fundamentally flawed.</p>

<p>

</p>

<p>Yes and maybe the author is one of the last people to clue into this. There is strategizing with college admissions. It turns out that you can make yourself look good on paper without the credentials to back it up.</p>

<p>

</p>

<p>Yes, I know they do that. In all fairness these schools are under enormous pressure to get their students into the best schools. They more students who get accepted from their schools the better they are doing their jobs.</p>

<p>By this point, if anyone is still reading, you are probably wondering what my point is. Here is my point. Why don’t more people ask if it is worth it? There are so many good schools you can get into without having to pretend that a science project is going to revolutionize cancer therapy. At what point is it just not worth it? Probably everyone has their own answer to that question.</p>

<p>Well, this begins with a bang and ends in a whimper:</p>

<p>

</p>

<p>This kind of cliched thinking doesn’t help anyone. I also can’t help but wonder if she would feel the same way if she had not gotten into Dartmouth, after being waitlisted. There would be more courage in her convictions if she were to have actually earned this wisdom, rather than do the same things as her HS peers in order to get into the college of her choice. She’s complaining from the inner circle, not to mention bashing her peers.</p>

<p>That aside, I do think it’s sad that “passion” has become just another buzz word, just another way to game the system. I truly feel sorry for young people today. Trying to maintain some integrity in this kind of BS atmosphere must feel pretty daunting.</p>

<p>One of my seniors made a comment a few months ago in response to how competitive college admissions and the awarding of big scholarships were that made a lot of sense. He stated, “What teenager sits around thinking about starting a big charity?” By the way, this student has top grades, great test scores and is very active in a couple of EC’s he truly enjoys. He is not a jealous slacker.</p>

<p>I do feel that there are some uniquely driven teenagers that passionately pursue impressive interests, but as an IB high school teacher I feel these types of teenagers are few and far between, far fewer than college applications reflect. College desires, required service hours and parental pressure, in my experience, are greater motivators.</p>

<p>I agree proud-mom – but what’s the alternative? To have a strict grades/tests-only approach? </p>

<p>I think most admissions officers are well aware of resume padding and they take a lot of these ECs with a grain of salt. </p>

<p>Doing away with them for admissions purposes would hurt those students who have interests, and a life outside of school - but don’t have 4.0/2400. Or expensive
summer-in-Oxford experiences that the upper class can offer their kids.</p>

<p>I think that part of the problem lies what the admissions process is trying to do. They are trying to measure potential of students, but that is an almost impossible task, so they take the easy way out and measure achievement instead. While it is much easier to measure, it is also much easier to fake. SAT stands for Scholastic Aptitude Test, but after you have taken it once its usefulness as a judgement of your aptitude drops off dramatically. A student who has perfect SAT scores after taking it 6 times is not the same as the kid who gets perfect scores the first time. Look at it this way, why would MIT want to enroll and try to teach someone who has found the cure to cancer? Why not just hire them in a full professor?</p>

<p>At the same time this skews the equation in favor of kids whose “passion” is more scorable. Won the Intel Science Search? That is a mark that is easy to plot against other students. Read all of Shakespeare and can discuss the nuances of every play against modern film? Much harder to plot.</p>

<p>It often seems to me that as the admissions game got more competitive, admissions process have failed to find a way to really find what it is the all claim they want; passionate, independent learners who see an education as feast for the senses.</p>

<p>I agree katliamom. Besides, people game test scores and grades, too with tutors and all.</p>

<p>

</p>

<p>I totally agree. The games work, which is why the students play them. It got to a point early on where I just didn’t have the stomach for it.</p>

<p>One thing I don’t quite understand is why getting into a good college is not considered legitimate motivation for pursuing an EC but it is an acceptable motivation for studying hard to get good grades.</p>

<p>What’s the difference between a kid waking up one day and realizing: “Gosh! My grades are mediocre at best. If I don’t get with program here I’m not going to have a decent GPA to put on my app, and I’m not going to get into that good college I’ve always wanted.” - and a kid waking up one day and realizing: “Gosh! My ECs are mediocre at best. If I don’t get with program here I’m not going to have any decent EC awards or public service to put on my app, and I’m not going to get into that good college I’ve always wanted.” ? </p>

<p>The former is regarded as a slacker kid admirably finding motivation in the nick of time, but the latter is regarded as living a lie. In either case you are working, often very hard, to make your college app look good. And in either case you will probably pick some valuable knowledge and experience along the way even if it wasn’t your original intention.</p>

<p>I would agree with you proud_mom, all I take away is that a chunk of Ivy League admits are probably less unique, less passionate and less spectacular and more importantly less deep than maybe their bloated resumes indicate. Perhaps at heart the kids are very much like we were decades ago, smart, young, ambitious…just not as polished as the kids these days perhaps get credit for. My guess is the selective schools already know this. What’s sad is the ones that may have missed four years of real life in a quest for the holy grail. That would be sad.</p>

<p>Good question, coureur. I don’t think it’s right to accuse those kids. What’s wrong in pursuing a successful EC for a good college?
People sometimes do things they don’t really like, don’t really enjoy, for a good cause or a nice goal, don’t they?
Plus, I do think most kids like what they’re doing. Using the ECs for college admission is only part of the reason for doing them.</p>

<p>I am, and have tried to teach my kids to be, philosophical about this. *You can always choose not to play the game. *If enough good people choose not to play, then it will end. But don’t choose not to play and then grouse about how the rules aren’t fair. Just do your own thing and define success for yourself.</p>

<p>I encountered the same thing in my work, as many do. I used to complain that the back-stabbers and butt-kissers were the ones that get ahead, while the nice people lag behind. But there’s only one answer to that: Be the kind of person you can be proud of, and be glad you don’t live in that stressful, unfulfilling, back-stabbing, butt-kissing world.</p>

<p>In short, “Put up or shut up.” [EDIT: Just to quote a pithy way of putting it. I’m not telling you to shut up.]</p>

<p>^^^I agree completely, but sometimes, at 19, it is hard to be philosophical when the unfairness of the world hits you in the face.</p>

<p>No doubt. It took me until now to figure this stuff out. And five years from now, I’ll realize that I hadn’t figured it out even now. And five years after that…</p>