Category: College Admissions

Before you judge, walk a mile in the other person’s moccasins. Best case, you gain some perspective, understand where they’re coming from, what they’re feeling, why they think and act the way they do. Worst case, you’re 5280 feet away and you have a nice pair of moccasins. So consider

The SAT is changing. No more paper and pencil tests, all digital from here on out. And there will be fewer questions so the test won’t take as long. More time will be allowed for each response because recent research suggests that slower thinkers are deeper thinkers. The folks in

At the risk of oversharing, I’m going to come right out and admit that I was completely staggeringly incapable of penning an undergraduate admissions essay 50 years ago. As a high school senior, I stared at a blank piece of paper hour after hour. The paper stared back. The paper

To ensure a healthy harvest, the townspeople are careful to get the sacrifice exactly right. Apparently there were imperfections last year: the dress was not sewn properly, the sandals were open-toed. As a proximate result, the rains came late. This year the elders are determined not to make the same

No numbers. I promise. No formulas, no tables, and certainly no proofs. You do not need a pencil or graph paper to enjoy this essay. Yes, I am a math teacher in recovery and I suppose I have been known to stop people on the street, hand them a calculator,

A college applicant is six feet tall. They are also 1.83 meters from head to toe as well as 183 centimeters. They measure .0011 miles, not to mention 1.93 x 10-16 light years. On their college applications, the student might point out that they stand just under two billion nanometers.

This essay isn’t another vignette about meaningful insights gleaned during a marathon. This column is about an ultra-event, a 50-mile slog—not a typo, 50 miles–through the swamp at Fakahatchee. “Where fun goes to die” may be the motto of The University of Chicago, but I would venture to suggest that

The podiatrist greets the moth but before the podiatrist can say anything the moth starts talking. My life is an unending cycle of pain, the moth begins. My job is meaningless and repetitive, my boss is needlessly demeaning. I wake up every morning next to a woman with whom I

As an undergraduate I majored in mathematics. As a counselor, I advise students who want to study anything other than math, anything. Accounting, anthropology, astronomy, all the way through the alphabet to zoology. I don’t emphasize my ongoing love of number theory and I certainly don’t suggest that all my