WRITING PROMPT #8

Pride in Speaking Out

She learned the power of words in my classroom.

I often didn’t get to know my students well until their junior years. As an Advanced Placement English Language teacher, I tried to help them see inside themselves so that others could get to know them, too.

For those of us removed from the pull and the push of high school, junior year is what’s known as the “make-or-break” year. Students who want to excel — and at that age, ambition translates into landing a spot in college — select their courses carefully. And learn how to write a college admissions essay, as a way of introducing themselves and snagging a spot in a college’s freshman class. I helped them figure out the parameters, and they did the rest.

Essays often help sway overburdened college admissions officials who are on the fence about a promising applicant.

I’d provide my kids copies of application essays written by students in years past; we’d talk about them; we’d break down the good, the bad, and the ugly. And then the scary part. I’d assign a college essay — 500 words, max, about a topic that had an impact on their lives.

In general, I told them not to talk about the three “BIG” topics college admissions types see too much of. Essays on death. Essays on moving. Essays on divorce.

But what if the death was unusual? Several of my students knew classmate Leslie Sherman. One was a freshman who ran cross-country with the Virginia Tech massacre victim when Leslie was a senior.

We talked through possible ways to focus the essay. Leslie was funny. Leslie was personable. Leslie was smart. But of course, that was too much about Leslie, and not enough about the prospective college applicant.

What about my student’s problem as a member of the school’s cross-country team? No matter how she prepared, she always had to, you know, go in the middle of a three-mile race. She’d stop, squat behind a tree and, you know, go. Then she’d get back on the course — and usually finished at the back of the pack.

“You’re fast,” Leslie told the frosh. “No way you should be finishing last in these races.”

“But what if I have to go?” the young woman, more than a tad embarrassed about the convo she was having with a senior, of all people, exclaimed.

“Then just go,” Leslie said. “And keep running.”

“You mean just go?” the flabbergasted froshie asked.

“Yup.” The younger student finished in the top 10 her next race.

Therein lies a funny, empathetic, slightly sad and incredibly informed college admissions essay topic.

I’ve read college essays over the years that have made me laugh (Korean karaoke); cry (the essay about Leslie Sherman— although I laughed a fair amount, too); cringe with concern (lessons learned after taking lil bro for a spin down a steep, steep neighborhood hill in the Little Tykes wagon? Still makes me shiver).

All of those students were accepted to their top college choices. They’re all grown up now, and probably don’t even remember their admissions essay topics. But I do, and I know these straight-from-the-heart expositions helped, too.

One gal really stood out. Confident, smart, opinionated. I could tell from the get-go this young woman was not only “going” places, she’d be there before any of her peers.

She also had a “secret” that she’d recently blown the top off — when she “came out” to her friends and much of the rest of the school community.

And this incredibly gifted student, who for a number of reasons should not have had a care in the world, was worried. She’d told her older sister about being gay. No biggie. She told me she felt loved and accepted when she shared the news.

But she was terrified about telling her immigrant parents.

This student wanted to write about her journey for her college admissions essay. She broached the subject to me in an informal journal entry, then came in after school to talk about it.

As if stressing about college, grades, friends and sexuality weren’t enough, she also wanted to have a sit-down with her parents. And include their reaction to her news in the essay.

I think we spent about two hours going over the pros and the cons of writing about the tangled web of an immigrant family tied together with traditions and expectations in her admissions essay. Well, she did most of the talking. I acted as a sounding board, of sorts. We agreed that she would take a stab at a draft, and get back to me in a few days.

Never say never about a young person determined to live her truth. She started drafting the essay the same weekend she went out to dinner with her folks and dropped what she was sure was a bombshell.

“My sister told me not to worry,” the kid told me later. “And she was right. It was weird. My Mom said she’d pretty much come to the conclusion that I was ‘different’ way back in eighth grade. My Dad said he didn’t want to talk about it now. But then when we got home he opened up, and we talked about it.”

She dropped by my classroom after a long weekend and shared her draft. Imagine trying to combine changes, feelings and parental politics all in one essay. I can’t. But she did.

With the exception of a couple of small typos, she nailed her essay. And I told her so. To this day, I can’t quite explain the look her face. Relief? Yes. Happiness? Of course. Acceptance? Naturally. And a combination of about a dozen other emotions that had probably been festering for awhile.

At the beginning of her senior year, she sent off her applications to several colleges. Her essay was always front and center of each electronic submission. She knew she’d have a ton of competition, but wanted to get this step of “growing up” out of the way.

We’ve all heard it. The college admissions process is brutal. The institution at the top of my student’s list gets somewhere in the neighborhood of 50,000 applications every year for 2,500 freshman slots. Another 57,000 apply to her second choice, with about 5,000 accepted. And 21,000 or so high school seniors apply to her third choice, with a 4,600-student acceptance rate.

We in the college essay writing business tell our students we have to be honest, but encouraging at the same time. The odds are daunting. And they’d be lucky to get a full review by each college’s admissions staff. That’s why their essays are so important.

But the damnedest thing happened.

Our girl not only “got in” to her top three choices in the college sweepstakes, she received replies from admissions officials at each campus. I’ve never, ever heard of that happening.

Yes, those who are the most buried in college admissions paperwork each year took the time to write encouraging emails in response to this high school senior’s college applications. Two told her how brave she was. One detailed her own high school “coming out” experience, and remarked on my student’s good fortune to have a “village” to love and encourage her.

Until I retired, the young woman with support of an entire “village” swang by Room 215 several times each school year to see me. Usually between semesters and right before Spring Break.

When I moved to North Carolina, we continued to keep up online. She’s since graduated and is working on her master’s. She plays guitar and tambourine in a campus-centric rock band. And she’s a world traveler, with recent trips to New York, Portugal, Italy and France under her belt.

She’s told me about her classes, her social life, her reading, her extracurriculars — and always reminds me I was the first adult she felt comfortable telling about the reality of her authentic self. She says she and her folks are closer than ever, even though the ’Rents don’t always understand the direction in which she’s headed.

“But that’s OK,” she told me once. “I can talk to them, and that’s what matters most.”