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Impassioned. Courageous. Determined. Furious.

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by Kevin

Impassioned. Courageous. Determined. Furious.

When I sit across the suits at an interview table and they ask me where I see myself in five years, I tell them, “I don’t know.”

I proceed to explain, “And here’s why that’s a better answer than anyone who comes in here and says they want to be a MD for Goldman in half a decade. I’m okay with not knowing, because I’m honest with myself. Because I know I’m smart and a fast learner and can pick up almost anything. I hem and haw and run through walls, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I know where I’m going. Being okay with not knowing has groomed me to be adaptable, amenable to change in mercurial circumstances that may present themselves in the office. If I were sitting in your seats, I wouldn’t hire someone who comes in here and tells me that he has his life planned out around investment banking for the next 10 years, because life happens and life changes and what’s more important is that a person is able to adapt, not plan. So to answer your question, I’m really not sure where I’ll be in five years, but this job will lead me to it.”

This answer has generally been off the beaten path enough to secure me internship offers, but to be completely frank, it scares the hell out of me. It’s brutally honest and has convinced two trained corporate HR’s that I’m confident in my direction, but I’m not sure I’m as convinced myself.

It’s absolutely frightening that I’m 19 but not yet sure where I will be in five years. That I don’t really know what I want to do. That I don’t have a consolidated passion I wake up working toward and go to sleep contemplative over. And maybe this is all normal. Perhaps unless you’re a pure-bred pediatric oncologist who watched a surgery and had some divine proclivity toward healthcare, we all more or less don’t know what we want to do when we grow up.

I’ve heard that this is the gap my collegiate education and life is purposed to bridge. I’ve heard that such is the intent of my ‘liberal arts’ education, as they call it. I’d like to believe so.

In university, I am a finance major learning about accounting and securities while my liberal arts studies enlightens me on Nasser’s Egypt, computational modeling of the game of life, and Darwinian theory. This seems right, that I’m at an institution which promotes a spherical system of education allowing me to self-edify about everything around me. But, it’s still scary that none of these have piqued my interest into a true passion.

An analogy takes me to Istanbul, Turkey, where I spent the first ten days of this summer with a friend from Pennsylvania. Our luck delivered us to Istanbul on the day of the mine explosion in Soma, Turkey that suffocated and burned over 300 mine workers. The next night, we walked to the historical Taksim Square—two minutes away from our hostel—where protesters lined up, yelling and moving to fight for worker rights. They were met on the outskirts of Taksim Square by riot police equipped with riot shields and teargas and water hoses. It probably wasn’t the smartest idea to venture out for a gyro on the evening of a Turkish protest, but what I saw was unforgettable nevertheless.

Teargas is no joke—it’s what you would imagine the treacherous fog that chased Jennifer Lawrence in the second installment of The Hunger Games to be like, but in real life. Riot police tossed canisters, and protesters tossed them back. Water tanks hosed down protesters, while protesters shielded their faces and ran for shelter. I ran for shelter as well, which took me to the shop of an incredibly friendly watchmaker who let me hide in his shop. We looked out into the streets of Taksim Square. Into this magnificent city of Istanbul, where past meets present with nothing in between. Where it was now all doused by teargas and water hoses and screaming and yelling and fighting. The protesters were bulls. En route to what they believe, to what they want, to what they think is better for the people of Turkey. Impassioned. Courageous. Determined. Furious.

In luxury, in America, we forget the endless powers of passion. There are people half-way across the globe fighting for what they believe is righteous and beautiful, while many of my incredibly intelligent classmates and I are so tempted to jump into careers that offer security, both in lifestyle and finance. Somewhere along the way we’ve forgotten that the hundreds of thousands of hours we’ll be spending on our jobs should be toward some conducive end. Toward a waning candlestick light that is individually marked for us to brighten through our careers—disgustingly romantic, I know. Perhaps there doesn’t have to be a gap between security and passion. Perhaps the goal of my education all along is to bridge this gap.

I have absolutely no idea where I’ll be in five years, but I only hope that I’ll find it worth it to dodge teargas canisters and evade water streams in an impassioned fury to make the change I believe in.

 

Read about Kevin here.

July 20, 2014
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Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers and College Admissions

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by Garth Robertson

Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers and College Admissions

A few years ago, I taught an English class at UC Berkeley to a collection of (mostly) ambitious high school students from Guangzhou, China. Since these students carried aspirations of studying in the US, my goal for the course was to immerse them in English in an engaging way. We watched and discussed fun pieces that illustrate high school culture like Mean Girls and Easy A while broaching some slightly heavier topics in Good Will Hunting and Remember the Titans. We had to do more than watch movies, though, and the defining reading assignment for them was Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers.

I’m not going to defend Gladwell’s oft-lambasted research methodologies or argue that Outliers is without flaw. I picked Outliers for two main reasons. First, Gladwell is a great writer. His works are laden with engaging stories that read as easily as YA fiction but simultaneously are so meticulously well organized that his argument effortlessly unfolds before even a beginning reader. Mimicry is one of the best ways to learn, and I would love for my students to mimic Gladwell’s writing style.

The second reason I picked Outliers, though, is that the book is about success. Collecting diverse recipes for success drives my own work, and I like the simplicity and straightforward nature of Gladwell’s equation for success.

SUCCESS = TALENT + HARD WORK + OPPORTUNITY

It’s a simple equation that probably seems quite obvious. What Gladwell does with this equation, though, defies the commonplace narrative on success. He diminishes talent and emphasizes the other two components: hard work and opportunity.

We live in a superhero culture. And it’s cool. I just watched the new Captain America movie, which prompted me to re-watch The Avengers. The NBA playoffs are running, and it seems the media world is rooting for a Heat-Thunders matchup in the finals so we can talk again about LeBron vs. KD.

Here’s a quiz.

Name two people who work at Microsoft.
Name two people who have ever worked at Apple.

It’s so easy to get caught up with the superheroes that we are unaware of the work and brilliance of any of the other 101,913 people who work for Microsoft or any of the 50,250 people who currently work at Apple.

The problem with a superhero culture is that it’s not empowering. By putting an enormously select few on their own esteemed pedestals, we attribute a uniqueness to them that implies that only some singular gift could make a Bill Gates or a Steve Jobs. I know I’m not singularly gifted, so there’s no need for serious ambition. (I should add that anyone who does think they are gifted in a superstar fashion probably is not and probably needs some help.)

The purpose of Outliers is to deconstruct the superhero mythology. Gates and Jobs feature centrally in Gladwell’s argument, where he illustrates that unique opportunity and especially an enormous amount of diligent work – combined, of course, with at least decent talent – is what led to the incredible success of these and many of our other superheroes.

How does this relate to admissions? It’s often thought that only superstars get in to the top schools. That’s true, actually. But Outliers shows that becoming a superstar doesn’t follow some sort of Calvinist theory of predestination. No one is born a superstar. Instead, focused hard work (the famous 10,000 hour rule) creates superstars. The amount of quality practice put into studies, to training for tests, to developing deep interests and skills, this time is what builds application superstars.

I’ve had some students who’ve read Outliers come back disappointed. “So the only way to become successful is to be born in the right month (hockey) or right year (railroad moguls, tech boom)?” While it’s probably true that luck is heavily involved in iconic levels of success, I think Gladwell makes it quite clear that hard work itself is what creates the superstar. I’d even argue (as does Cal Newport in my favorite book on planning for college admission) that hard work creates the opportunities that together lead to incredible success.

I’ve seen this in action. One of my students this year just emailed me to tell me that she’s chosen to attend Duke University over numerous other “elite” options. She was among the 9% of regular decision applicants admitted to Duke this year. In other words, she was not among the 91% of top students in the country who were not admitted. While she has many wonderful qualities, one of her application’s defining features was her work as a research assistant to a university professor. How did she get such a position? She determined that she wanted to pursue advanced work in economics and emailed professor after professor – nearly a hundred – before she finally found a position. Through her deep effort, she created a remarkable opportunity for herself.

Looking back to the equation: SUCCESS = TALENT + HARD WORK + OPPORTUNITY

Hard work creates opportunities. According to Daniel Coyle, whose The Talent Code will get its own post, hard work also creates talent. Everyone has the ability to work hard. Everyone has the ability to become a superstar.

Since that class at Cal, I’ve had numerous students read Outliers. Again, this has nothing to do with the depth or accuracy of Gladwell’s methods. It admittedly has a little bit to do with the fact that the plethora of memorable stories Gladwell employs are wonderful potential examples for standardized test essays. Most of all, though, I have students read Outliers because at its core, it is an empowering book. It’s a book that shows a reader that her or his success is a possibility, and that focused hard work will make it a reality.

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And the results are in…

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by Garth Robertson

And the results are in…

I’m not a fan of what I’d call true “business-y” posts. I think my rural Wisconsin upbringing makes me cringe at any form of self-aggrandizement. Really, this post is a testament to the work ethic, character, and drive of the extraordinary young people with whom I had the honor of working this year.

Many of them have decided which college they will attend; many are still struggling in the best way possible between multiple wonderful opportunities. I’m thrilled for all of them and reminded tangibly in their communications with me why I love my work.

Here is the list of colleges that offered admission to the students I worked with in the class of 2014:

Boston College
California Institute of Technology
Carnegie Mellon University
Chapman University
Columbia University (2)
Cornell University (2)
Dartmouth College
Duke University (2)
Emory University (2)
Fordham University
George Washington University (2)
Harvey Mudd College
Indiana University, Bloomington (2)
Johns Hopkins University (2)
Macalester College
Middlebury College
New York University (2)
Northwestern University (2)
Oberlin College
Occidental College (2)
Ohio State University
Pennsylvania State University (2)
Rider University, Westminster Choir College
San Jose State University
Stanford University (2)
Swarthmore College
Texas A&M University
University of California, Berkeley (5)
University of California, Davis (7)
University of California, Irvine (10)
University of California, Los Angeles (7)
University of California, Merced
University of California, Riverside
University of California, San Diego (10)
University of California, Santa Barbara (9)
University of California, Santa Cruz (4)
University of Chicago (2)
University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign
University of Pennsylvania
University of Rochester
University of Southern California (4)
University of Washington, Seattle (3)
University of Wisconsin, Madison
Vanderbilt University
Vassar College
Washington University, St. Louis (3)
Williams College (2)

It was a great year – I couldn’t be more proud of my kids (sorry, you guys – young women and men)!

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Road Trips, Eastern Philosophy, and College Admissions

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by Garth Robertson

Road Trips, Eastern Philosophy, and College Admissions

“We’re in the Twilight Zone!” My mom, apparently, was less excited about Mandatory Metallica at nine pm on the rural Massachusetts radio station than the seventeen-year-old version of me was. In truth, the Twilight Zone was less about aggressive alternative rock than it was about the windy mountain road and opaque blackness surrounding us. The map had said that Williamstown, Massachusetts was only thirty or so miles away, but we’d been on the road for forty-five minutes with no conception of getting closer to our destination.

That was in 1998, the summer before my senior year of high school, as my mom accompanied me on the drive from northern Wisconsin to the east coast and back, with stopping points at Northwestern University, Grove City College, Princeton University, Columbia University, and Williams College for tours, info sessions, and on-campus interviews, back when essentially all interviews were conducted on campus. While the trip was defining for my college choices—I officially fell in love with Northwestern, while Columbia and Grove City found themselves discarded—it stands out in my memory because it was a ten-day road trip with just my mom.

My mom and I have a long history of road trips. Countless trips to the Miller Hill Mall in Duluth, Minnesota dot my childhood memories, and following our epic haul to Massachusetts and back, my mom and I have been intentional about trying to find time alone in the car. We both have a penchant for talking about ideas and feelings, and really resonate when discussing our mutual value systems, life experiences, and future goals.

So when my family was planning how we would complete our move from California to Minnesota, I put together a plan that included my mom joining me on the thirty-some hour drive across a good part of the U.S. For the trip, we purchased Great Minds of the Eastern Intellectual Tradition, a Great Course taught by Grant Hardy of UNC Asheville, to be our conversation driver. I had a lot of background in the study of Eastern religion and philosophy throughout my education, but surprisingly little exposure to Taoism and Confucianism. The more I listened, the more I saw an interesting blend of these two philosophies undergirding a strong college preparatory plan.

Confucianism is obvious. Structure, order, activity. Discern goals and accomplish them. I’d say that most ambitious high school students, regardless of background, take a Confucian approach to building up their profile to become more attractive to college admissions officers.

But what struck me was the value of a Taoist perspective on college admissions. I plan to write more about this in future posts, but one quote stands out in my memory. I can’t remember who said it, but it was in a series of statements that offered caricatures of the diverse schools of thought emerging in the Warring States period in China. To describe Taoism, it was said that “the Taoists do nothing and accomplish everything.”

The Taoists do nothing and accomplish everything.

Now, I’m not saying that literally doing nothing is the key to competitive college admissions. It’s quite the opposite. However, the pure Confucian approach will always leave an applicant wanting. Wanting for depth, specificity, purpose, and most of all, authenticity. The Taoist approach to living is more organic. It involves patience and waiting for the natural path to emerge. To me, that “natural path” is the authentic pursuit that is truly and uniquely fulfilling to an individual. It’s that passion for journalism and politics that drives a student to write pieces that ultimately make their way into major publications, earning the student a trip to join a UN delegation. It’s that impossible-to-fake love of jazz that leads a student to not only compose music, but also to buy, refurbish, and sell used saxophones, turning a $30,000 profit in just two years in high school.

Both of these are true stories, and both of these are examples of students who did not flood their resumes with any activity that might bring a boost. They intentionally pursued their organic path.

And both were extraordinarily successful in admissions.

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Never Have I Ever Been So Happy To Be Surrounded by Armed Men

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by Jessica

Never Have I Ever Been So Happy To Be Surrounded by Armed Men

I’m so glad to finally be home for winter break. Too many instances of school campuses coming under attack have been circulating lately, and I really just want to get away from it all.

Hailing from the sunny state of California on the other side of the country, I didn’t go home for Thanksgiving. Instead, I stayed on campus. On Monday, November 25, 2013, there was a Yale security alert warning about a gunman intending to cause harm at Yale. The university instituted a shelter-in-place command at about 10:00 a.m., maintaining the lockdown until about 5:00 p.m. Police and SWAT team members armed with long rifles descended upon Yale’s Old Campus, where most of the freshmen are housed. I am in one of the two residential colleges whose first-years do not reside on Old Campus, but that made me feel hardly safer as I sat in my room three blocks away from the marked danger zone, live news coverage streaming on my laptop and rapids of Facebook posts flooding alongside it. The trespasser was never found, but the police refused to announce the all-clear signal until they had marched systematically through several buildings and scoured all the rooms in them.

Turns out the phone call that tipped the authorities off to start all of this was a hoax. The call had come from a pay phone and all the anonymous person had said was that his roommate was coming to Yale to shoot people. Shortly afterward, a Yale employee reported that she had sighted a figure with a long rifle in the Old Campus area, but in retrospect, police say that she may have mistaken a responding officer for the gunman.

Only about a week later, American University in Washington, D.C., had a similar scare and equally strict lockdown procedure. Yale and American University were fortunate that theirs were false alarms, but early in December, Arapahoe High School had a real shooter. It was another blow for Colorado, already racked with gun-inflicted tragedies of Columbine and the Aurora movie theater shooting. And the Arapahoe incident occurred all too soon–just a day before the anniversary of the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting that is still a raw wound in Connecticut. A few days later, Harvard University evacuated students from four of its buildings in response to a bomb threat that turned out to be a hoax by a student scheming to cancel his final examinations.

Thanksgiving and winter break have given me a lot for which to be thankful. I’m grateful that the Yale and New Haven police acted so immediately to the reports and called in a battle-ready SWAT team. As foolish as some of the false alarms were, it is much better to overreact than to underreact in situations like these. The increasing frequency of which these scares and actual violence are occurring is saying something about our society. The lockdowns at Yale and American were both reactions triggered by someone mistaking an officer for an ill-intentioned gunman. But after so much gun violence lately, this hypersensitivity is not necessarily a bad thing, especially since schools nationwide are now prioritizing and improving upon their lockdown drills. I, as well as every other person who has been in a similar position, should be indebted to the police for treating every incident disproportionately seriously. Better to be safe now than sorry down the road.

Read about Jessica here.

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The Great Common App Crash of 2014

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by Garth Robertson

The Great Common App Crash of 2014

Happy New Year!

In the world of college admissions, the first of the year is a defining day on the calendar. It’s the application deadline for an enormous number of colleges, and as such, often becomes one of the most stressful days of the year. I wrote a longer post on this here, but I thought I’d share thoughts quickly on the front page of my blog.

In my work as a counselor, I’ve experienced this many times, and one of the primary takeaway points I want to emphasize is that the “crashing of the server” is in most cases more based in myth than in fact. It’s really a “slowing down of the server” that won’t impede submission unless you literally leave only minutes to spare.

This year was an exception. With the new (and oh-so-glitchy) CA4, students couldn’t even log in to their Common Application account starting at 8:45pm EST and lasting through the next three hours. However, the initial shock gave way, again, to what historical record has shown. With patience and persistence, students were able to log in and submit. I was in contact with several students during this time, and each was able to ultimately successfully submit, but not without some nerves building with refresh after refresh.

A secondary takeaway took form the next day, when CommonApp announced that all partner schools would accept applications coming on January 2nd as well. This is what I think is really important for stressed-out applicants (and their parents) to remember. Even though many schools reject far more applicants than they accept, they are not out to get you. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. My friends in admissions offices are some of the more sympathetic (and empathetic) people I know. Good people who are really hoping for the success of every applicant whose file crosses their desk. Of course, admitting all of them isn’t possible, but admissions offices and the people at Common App are on your side, and will do what they can to ensure that every student can successfully submit her or his applications.

In the unfortunate event that you find yourself up against a deadline and thwarted by a technical difficulty, remember that you’ll likely get a reprieve.

But don’t do it twice – that just looks irresponsible.

And for anyone looking for a place to vent application frustrations or seek refuge in a community of similarly irked applicants, simply do a Twitter search for “Common App” any year on November 1, January 1, and January 15.

It will be trending.

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