ThreeSixty -

By Emilie Wei

This summer as I was about to start my first term of college, I stumbled across an e-mail I sent freshman year that showed I was willing to do anything to get into Yale University. As I read the e-mail, I remembered the brutal path called the application process and laughed at my initial mindset.

“Dear Mr. O’Neill,” I began, “My name is Emilie Wei.” That sounded good; I needed to introduce myself.

“Ever since I knew about colleges, Ivy League schools and the dreaded SAT’s, I’ve always wanted to go to Yale University.” That showed dedication, right?

“Starting now, as a freshman, I want to know what I should start doing, preparing…Are there certain programs, or organizations that Yale would extremely like for an applicant to understand and have learned from?” My yearning-for-knowledge tone should really get him.

I added a few smaller questions and thanked him for his time. I smiled. I clicked “Send.” A few days later, Dan O’Neill, Dean of Admissions at Yale University, e-mailed me back:

Emilie,

My best advice to you is to do exactly what you are doing — that is, explore web-sites and plan college visits for the future…There is no “magic formula” for admission, so there’s no quick, easy response to your inquiry. Generally speaking, we look for students of exceptional academic caliber who are exceptionally active and engaged in the world around them.

Best,

Dan

This e-mail absorbed every inch of my mind. Exceptional academic caliber, activity and world engagement were what I needed to strive for. Though colleges would not admit it, this was the “magic formula,” and I was set to follow it precisely.

After sophomore year, a simple B+ slapped me in the face. I no longer had exceptional academic caliber. I was ruined. I tried comforting myself – my progress in extracurricular activities could make up for anything lost in GPA. But I always knew I couldn’t recover. In such an important competition, I had messed up and in turn been eliminated from the potential list of top 10 students of my high school. I know that I sound like a teenage drama queen. But understand that those students who do the best in school, who are pressured to always perform and achieve, are the same students who consistently find themselves terrified of failure.

In junior year, I enrolled in Accelerated Chemistry. Study groups met on a weekly basis and daily homework could only be completed if students called each other for help. It was as if the teacher threatened your grade every day. One week, while studying for the Phase Chemistry test, I called Michael in hopes he could explain something I couldn’t understand. Michael was really just an acquaintance then. He was the smartest guy in the hardest class who got near perfect scores on everything. I wouldn’t have called him for help had anyone else been able to help me. Afterward, I asked him how he studied for tests.

“I don’t study for tests,” he said.

I was confused. That was such a lie.

“No,” he continued, “see, I just teach myself everything we’re expected to learn. That’s what education is about isn’t it?”

Of course.

We weren’t supposed to attend school to master the grading system. We were there to learn. Tests are simply a way for teachers to evaluate progress. However, many flukes have made tests into something horrible, a measure of failure or success, a means of moving ahead or falling behind. If I started taking tests to show my teachers how much material I have learned, my scores will then become irrelevant. I should learn why certain answers are wrong instead of dwell on how upsetting it is to lose points.

This realization changed everything. The magic formula for Yale might exist, but it was no longer pertinent to my life. I forgot about Dan’s e-mail. I stopped performing for college admission and started to perform simply because I loved what I did. During junior year, I was news editor of the school newspaper, captain of both the Mock Trial and Debate teams, a state finalist in speech and co-founder of a community service organization.

When it came to standardized tests, I decided not to waste any time studying. A high score was no longer important to me and I believed I could use my time in one of two ways:

1. Learn physics, calculus, Chinese, or any other subject I studied at school; or

2. Learn information specifically for a standardized test, which I most likely would forget as soon as the test was over.

I chose the first option, and I would choose it again. I kept up with homework and asked questions when I didn’t understand. Any studying I did was to familiarize myself with the test format – much like when teachers at school advise.

I had applied to Yale University for early action, meaning that I would hear back sooner but didn’t have to commit yet. The letter came: Yale was sorry to inform me that I would not be a part of their class of 2011. I was disappointed. However, I had no regrets about my four years – except that maybe I should have come to my realization earlier.

I sigh to think what my high school experience would have been if I had allowed myself to sink into that quicksand of the college application system, which is really just an aggressive scoring system. Here’s how it goes: Be the best in as many areas as possible but not too many. After all, colleges will smite you for overloading yourself and joining too many clubs. The best applicants must balance high quality and reasonable quantity. You must be the best at figuring out the balance, too.

I explained my philosophy during an interview with Harvard College, and the interviewer called it a “mature” take on education., A few weeks later, I learned that I had not been accepted.

On the other hand, I am attending Northwestern University, and I turned down other prestigious schools. So? Maybe I could have used all four years of my high school to meet the magic formula. Maybe I should’ve studied for the SAT/ACT to score a 2600 and 36. Maybe then I would be going to Yale this fall. However, I didn’t – and my choice resulted in my broadened knowledge, a drive for passion and the acceptance into a wonderful university.