10 Schools in 10 Days, Father & Son Hunt for "The Right Fit"
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February 2019 – We've just arrived in Amherst, Massachusetts, and head straight out to dinner with a second-semester freshman at Amherst College (amherst.edu) – one of America's oldest, finest liberal-arts schools.
"Sarah," as I'll call her here, is the daughter of an acquaintance, and kindly offered to share her insights into Amherst – with my son. Soon to be 17, he's visiting American colleges for the first time, to explore which ones he'll apply to this fall. Amherst is one of 10 he's arranged for this 10-day journey — timed for the Chinese New Year, while he's off on holiday from his Beijing international school. It's not just the two of us: we're joined on this road-trip by my younger son, who's 14, and my closest college friend, whom I've known 32 years.
This young woman tells us how much she enjoys her academic major, courses, professors, classmates, friends, dorm, social life and campus activities. She contrasts the advantages of Amherst's small student body – class-size, faculty-student ratio, and getting to know your teachers as true mentors – with certain social disadvantages, such as seeing the same people, day after day. Especially, if you wish to avoid someone. That's hard to do here.
My son is listening intently – engaged, curious and asking questions. What I don't yet realize, though: in his mind, he's already crossing Amherst off his list! In fact, after we bid farewell to this freshman, my son tells me that he wants to leave as soon as possible. Even to skip the next morning's orientation and campus-tour. I'm stunned. And irritated. I just drove us two hours, from Boston, to get here! But I'll soon realize: He's right.
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I'm more than my son's father … and chauffeur. Among my gigs in Beijing, China – where I've lived since 2015 – I specialize in university admissions, as an education counselor and essay-writing coach who guides some of the countless thousands of Chinese students who dream of studying in America. I've helped dozens of them get into top schools; most recently, I was pleased to hear that for one young woman I coached, her strategically written essay helped her land a scholarship to the UK's Hult International Business School (hult.edu).
Yet with many top U.S. universities now filling 20% to 30% of their ranks with foreign students, I've spotted a unique writing challenge they face with their personal essays, which American applicants don't. Foreigners are separated by vast "distance" – not just geographic, but also cultural. This requires just the right dose of context, to connect with readers. This makes their essays another form of international storytelling.
To help them bridge this distance, I've developed my own method, which is derived from the skills and strategies of my two career specialties: international journalism and international communication. (For examples of how I apply my MJ Method to all forms of writing and speaking, especially to foreign audiences, feel free to read via the QR code below.)
That said, it's one thing for me to advise, from afar, any Chinese student – or foreigner living abroad, like my son – on how to craft a persuasive application essay. Namely, how to identify their own values, then a specific college's values. Next, how to hone a strategic message, support it with concrete evidence, and fold it into a humanizing story that'll convince an Admissions Officer that you're "the right fit" for them.
At this moment, though, I'm experiencing a new sensation: to sit in the audience, absorb a school's orientation and campus tour, observe how it impacts my son, then share my insights with you as a parent, too. That's what I'll do with the essay below [as well as in Part II]: it's a hybrid that blends scholarly case-study with journalistic travelogue – as part of my overarching efforts to share relevant advice with a wider audience.
Because I'm wearing these two hats – as both a parent and player in the university admissions business – that helps to explain how I'll now handle my son's urging that we cut short our Amherst visit. "Let's leave in the morning, before the tour," he says. I can't believe the absurdity of it. But I drove us so far to get here! Why not at least hear what they have to say – and look around their lovely campus?
With lawyerly precision, he replies: "What's the point? I don't even want to apply here."
I press for more. Why wouldn't you apply here? For two key reasons, he explains.
First, he now has broader context. Amherst isn't the first stop on our tour. We'd just visited four stellar schools in Boston, like Boston University (bu.edu) and Tufts University (tufts.edu). Boston is not only one of America's greatest cities, but also home to a huge, vibrant student population. From there, we drove two hours due west, along an uninspiring highway, to reach rural Amherst: which is itself a quaint but sleepy town.
Suddenly, a new reality has hit my son: Location is important to me. He's lucky enough to have already lived on four continents, in his young life. (From New York to Slovakia, in Central Europe; down to Lesotho in Southern Africa; then out to China.) While we haven't always lived in a booming metropolis, he wants to immerse himself in urban energy.
The second issue, it turns out, just emerged during our chat with the second-semester freshman. At some point, she'd admitted: Amherst doesn't facilitate many internship possibilities for students. For my son, that's another strike: he'd heard from the Boston universities of all the exciting, off-campus internships (some paid, others unpaid) they arrange for students. In the city. Suddenly, internships are another of his priorities.
Indeed, this detail could become a selling-point, when each school asks the inevitable "Why us?" essay question, which they typically want you to answer within 250 words. My son could cite, with specificity: Your internship opportunities, like XXX and YYY, appeal to me because they may help me fulfill my dream of ZZZ. Fill in the blanks.
No doubt, Amherst would deliver top-notch academics. Yet, it's not enough to overcome his two other priorities: location and opportunity. So, my irritation with him quickly passes.
In fact, I no longer wonder if this is a "wasted trip" to Amherst. Choosing the ideal university for him is so crucial, because it means four years of his life. As his father, my priority is that he spends those years as happily as possible. That means, he must identify for himself which school is truly "the right fit" – and why. It now occurs to me: step by step, my son's learning more about himself, too – and which combination of factors are the right fit.
This was just one of many revelations from our 10-day road-trip, which I want to share with you here – regardless of whether you're a student or parent; whether you're Chinese or American; whether you're a university counselor in China, or an admissions officer in the U.S.
On the one hand, this trip illuminated how "the right fit" cuts both ways: just as students should seek the right fit – or at least, the best possible fit – our tour illuminated how universities also telegraph to students who among them is "the right fit" for their school.
As I'll show in Part II of this essay, the schools subtly communicated to us the traits of an ideal candidate: from intellectual curiosity, academic appetite, entrepreneurial spirit, diverse interests and communal leadership, to passion, passion, passion – for what you care about.
As one admissions officer at Tufts University put it, during our orientation session: "You should be just as passionate about your minor, as you are about your major."
A student tour guide later added: "You can stop any student here, ask about their major, what they study, or what they do on campus, and they'll go on and on. Everyone is so passionate about what they do, it's infectious. It makes me want to do what I want to do, even more."
During this trip, though, I was no longer a detached observer or essay-writing coach, but a parent trying to solve the riddle of how to help my son into the school of his dreams. Moreover, I imagined myself in your parents' shoes – or if you were in my son's shoes.
That's why I wrote this essay: to show I don't "just talk the talk, but walk the walk" – and preach the same advice to you, as I preach to him. The second part of this essay chronicles more of our lessons-learned, from the 10 schools we visited, over 10 days, in early February 2019.
The remainder of this travelogue is not only packed with my observations and insights, but also some brainstorming of what you – and he – might write in essays for your preferred schools, to persuade an admissions officer that you're truly "the right fit" for them.
As always, my objective is to demystify what can be an intimidating, essay-writing process.
To contact Michael J. Jordan, email him at mjjordan2016@yahoo.com, or on WeChat, at mjjordan2323.
Photos: Michael J. Jordan, amherst.edu, bu.edu
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