The Handbook / Chapter 3

Nurture your weirdness

CHAPTER 3 | Extracurricular Activities

What are colleges looking for in an applicant? This is the question I was asked most frequently as an AO. And it often felt like if I answered with a precise list of extracurriculars— say, Archery, Accounting Club, Future Astronomers and knitting circle— a student would return home and enroll in those exact activities. And then head for the yarn store.

You get the joke. It’s laughable to think there is a strict, identical criteria applied to everyone. I’d bet you’re quite interested in specific things and have engaged in activities around them. I dearly hope so. Life is short and we owe ourselves no less. Love a thing, do the thing. Rinse and repeat. Keep it simple.

I’ll answer the question above, although sideways. What colleges are looking for is real passion and evidence of having acted on it. As an AO or a counselor, I’d rather be amazed than impressed. And I’m amazed when students tell me about what they love to do without prompting or encouragement, things with which I’d been completely unfamiliar. An incomplete list would include: clothing design and manufacture, ancient Nordic languages, curling (the sport, not the hair treatment), and the reproductive habits of turtles.

On the subject of turtles, I once read an application from a student who had a lifelong fascination with them. I was asked by the dean to send his folder to Harvard’s head herpetologist for a faculty evaluation. It came back with an enthusiastic endorsement, almost begging to have the kid admitted. Months later the student joined the thin ranks of the Comparative Zoology department. No one had any question about whether he’d fit in or thrive academically. His passion had found him his place.

You can’t make this stuff up. And that’s just the point. What am I looking for? You tell me. Before the business of applying to college became an industrial complex, what you did after school was determined solely by what you did for fun. Students naturally gravitated toward activities that suited them. And surely some of you still do. What’s new is the strategic, almost military-like thinking that some people employ, a gaming of the system designed to maximize their desirability on paper. Spare yourself the worry, do what gives you chills.

I have actually heard myself say out loud to more than a few overly cautious students, nurture your weirdness. Hearing myself say it, I wonder if that can possibly be good advice. But each time I work through it, I think it’s sound. What you can’t know is whether any one college happens to be looking for your brand of weird. But if you have one that’s a start. Suffice it to say, colleges aren’t looking for cookie-cutter Genius Barbie.

I often encounter students who question the quality of their interests. They compare what they’re naturally inclined to pursue with some arbitrary notion of a more impressive list and come up wanting. I’ve had hundreds of such conversations. We frequently trace it back to another phenomenon— conformity.

But why would we want to remake ourselves to be more like others?

We’ve all heard a parent say some version of— well, if they jumped off a cliff would you follow? We sort of give them that one because you can rule out needless death and still leave plenty of room for a million other regrettable choices. We are all susceptible to peer pressure. An eleven year old walks into middle school the first day and immediately senses that the ground has shifted. The presence of older kids has completely changed the social matrix. The sixth grader is suddenly keenly aware of his otherness. Her inexperience. Their physical vulnerability. What’s that smell? Of being judged. And amidst those feelings begins a years-long transformation into . . . what?

I have watched my own children enter this maze with varying degrees of confidence and apprehension. At home, childhood comforts are suddenly cast off, now considered baby stuff. New friendships are formed and old ones jettisoned. Kids who were cheerful and outgoing shapeshift into sullen preteens. They really need new sneakers. And not just any sneakers. Certainly not the ones they’ve worn for years with no opinion as to their suitability. They want sneakers you have to wait outside the shoe store for hours before it opens OR THEY’LL BE GONE, DAD. No, we mustn't let THAT happen.

Kids want said footwear because someone who awes (or terrifies) them wears them. This will not end with one trip to the mall. Once this costly whim is satisfied, it’s followed by treks for logoed tees and sweatshirts, but only those with very particular logos. Last month’s must-have garment has been designated hoodie-non-grata. You would think that the entire hierarchy of middle school is determined by adherence to this one strict code. The names change but the game stays the same.

Their speech changes, suddenly studded with phrases that reek of imitation. Parents are forbidden from using the slang if they even know its meaning.

At this age adolescents are piecing together an identity and, like a bird building a nest, they will collect all kinds of shiny behavioral bits, using them temporarily and replacing them when so moved. Something about this particular period of development knocks kids off center as they continuously seek to regain their balance.

Maybe the strangest pre-teen epoch was the Sagging Pants Age. Boys insisted on wearing their trousers tracing the pubic bone in front and bisecting the buttocks in back. Their boxers maintained a small degree of dignity but no more. Everyone else was flummoxed at the sight but it did nothing to alter behavior.

How prevalent is conformity? I can’t be the only one without half his ass hanging out of his pants!

Like actors donning costumes, we concentrate on what others are doing rather than looking inward. With the passage of time and a process of elimination, most of us settle on a version of ourselves we’re more or less satisfied with (or wearily call off the search) and stop swapping out personalities. You’re lucky if you have a passion that asserts itself early and won’t let go. You enjoy a continuity that others wish for while flitting from one activity after another.

But you’ve got most of that messy developmental business behind you and got it a bit more figured out. Which brings us roundabout to the question: what are colleges looking for in extracurriculars?

Extracurricular:

1] Unusual in national terms, state or national awards

2] Highly active and holding major leadership roles

3] Strong school contributor with minor leadership roles

4] Uninvolved

5] Unable to participate | family responsibilities

Let’s start with what they’re not looking for. They will look at a long list of EAs showing a semester or two of showing up, but neither leading nor sticking with, and dismiss it. Padding one’s resume does not work. AOs see thousands of these resumes and can spot a fraud a mile away. Another scam that gets you nowhere is the one where so many hours are claimed to have been spent it’s just silly. Twenty hours a week on student government and another twenty on community service? I think not.

Students who get involved because they’re interested and get real enjoyment out of it will naturally excel. They will inspire others to be more engaged and the success of the endeavor is pretty much guaranteed. If fun is what motivates, you’re doing it right. You are a young person in high school. Allow yourself to do what feels right. You’ll be inclined to practice and improve. You may find it takes more hours than you initially budgeted, limiting the number of other activities your schedule can accommodate. Don’t worry about it. If your list of ECs shows more depth than breadth, that’s a good thing.

As long as you’re busy and involved, that’s great. List your activities in order of their importance to you and yours to them. Your having spent a few years in a club, learning the ropes, and eventually taking on a leadership position is a useful snapshot of what you will repeat in college and your future workplace. ⇨ 🕰⇨

Let’s return to one of those questions that colleges will want you to answer: How will you take advantage of the resources (academic, athletic, cultural, and club) provided by the college? In listing your activities, you will give a clear indication of what you will be doing in college. The university orchestras, choirs, clubs, and athletic teams will look to those with talent and experience, as well as enthusiasm, to fill their vacancies. They will reach out directly to the admissions office to make known their particular needs to fill. At the start of every application season, the admissions office receives detailed lists of desired talent, requesting everything from recruited athletes to oboists. Everyone from the Debate Club to the Mathematics Department will provide a spreadsheet of their preferred admits. Colleges require an infusion of freshmen to replace the 25% who are graduating and all the talent they are taking with them. From one end of the campus to the other the faculty has been weighing in on portfolios and newspaper clippings of exciting high school students who have applied. Stay busy and engaged. People will notice.

I have known many students whose outside interests have received wider attention whether it’s a story in the local paper, a regional JSA convention, or a Boys|Girls State that caught the eye of the college. Keeping a scrapbook is not a bad idea. It is not lame. It is smart, the opposite of lame. It makes resume and brag sheet building more efficient. Sometimes it’s a parent who secretly stows a child’s plaques and clippings. It’s okay, you can thank them later.

Even if no one outside your school knows of your fabulous exploits, you will have an opportunity to share it yourself. Many colleges require some supplementary writing and those that do often ask why you are interested in applying. It doesn’t take much research to unearth whichever undergraduate activity you’d like to join if accepted. That leads seamlessly into plugging your high school accomplishments.

We all enjoy doing things at which we excel. Just ask the singer who demolishes a song to thunderous applause or the base runner sliding headfirst into home for a walkoff win. It’s fun doing what you’re good at. But there’s another kind of accomplishment that neither experience can touch— doing something difficult that’s outside your skill set. I’m not suggesting we should avoid acting on our natural gifts. By all means, bring down the house or win the league championship. It’s not an either-or choice.

What I’m suggesting is this. At some point in their high school career a student should experience starting at the bottom. It’s difficult and humbling. It can be momentarily painful. The deathly shy student joins a public speaking club. The socially awkward teenager deejays a houseparty. The klutzy kid tries out for basketball. The shortest sophomore runs for class president promising to take the class to new heights. Run in the direction of your fears. No matter the outcome you will have gained some valuable insights.

All the scenarios in the previous paragraph happened. It changed the students in question, maybe forever. The takeaways included:

1. It wasn’t as scary as I thought

2. Some of the players on the team are now my best friends

3. I raise my hand all the time now

4. I got hired to do a school dance

5. I’m better than I thought I was

6. I’m a little popular now

7. I’ll never make fun of anybody for their dreams again

The celebrations are quieter and the lessons longer lasting. While confidence grew, so did empathy. And here’s the best part, having survived what they thought would be traumatic experiences, students were inclined to try new things again. By trusting their resilience, they had made themselves more durable and courageous. I’m all in favor of students feeling safe, but I suspect they will be better off in the long run if they also challenge themselves.

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What about a student who has obligations (financial, childcare, or eldercare) which make participating in afterschool activities impossible? I have worked with many such students. If this does not describe you, consider yourself fortunate. If it does, your prospective college sees you. Anyone who is paying any attention knows well that we live in a world where many people are barely getting by while the richest have never owned a greater share of total wealth. Consider just one grim statistic: the most affluent 1% own 60% of global assets. Their fortunes nearly doubled since 2020 while 5 billion people got poorer. Worldwide, nearly 60% of humans exist on less than $10|day. This vast and persistent inequality affects a great many applicants.

In much of the US, kids are plainly suffering. Both parents work and, very often, older children are pressed into service caring for younger siblings. I’ve known many such students. There are sometimes also grandparents living in the home requiring additional care. As soon as the last class bell rings, many students head straight home to babysit until relieved by a working parent. Extracurricular activities are for others, a luxury even in lower performing high schools. Kids feel bereft given the opportunity lost. They’re sure the omission of ECs from their application will set them back even further.

If you are not able to pursue after school activities, it will not affect your chances of being admitted to college. This is true. You will need to tell the story of your family responsibilities but that will also help a prospective college know you better. Colleges need you. They know they make themselves better places of learning when a highly diverse population is represented. When varying perspectives are present, the knowledge imparted is richer, more complete. If only the most privileged voices are heard, everyone is shortchanged, including the privileged. It may be more comfortable in the short term to hear only your opinion echoed back but students can only prepare themselves for the larger world by experiencing what is foreign, even if it makes for some discomfort.

Colleges should make their students feel safe. But they do not owe it to you to make you feel entirely comfortable all the time. Physical fitness involves painful exertion that increases strength and stamina. Intellectual growth requires exhaustive study and tough questioning. And your emotional growth will call for challenging long held beliefs and holding them up to careful scrutiny.

You won’t break. You’re stronger than you know.