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How
to avoid the Big Mac syndrome
By Parke Muth
The
Bad
| The Good | The Risky
Fast food
comes to mind when I read essays that are part of college
applications. Almost all the applications I see contain ''McEssays''–essays
usually five paragraphs long that consist primarily of abstractions
and unsupported generalizations. While technically accurate–they
are organized and use correct grammar and proper spelling–they
are basically the same, like Big Macs. I have nothing against
Big Macs, but the ones I eat in Charlottesville are not going
to differ from the ones I eat in Paris, Peoria, or Palm Springs.
I am not going to rave about the quality of a particular Big
Mac, and the same can be said about the generic essay.
If an
essay starts, ''I have been a member of the soccer team, and
it has taught me leadership, perseverance, and hard work,''
I can almost recite the rest of the essay without reading
it. Each of the three middle paragraphs will give a bit of
support to an abstraction, and the final paragraph will restate
what has already been said. A McEssay isn't wrong, but it's
not going to be a positive factor in an admission decision.
A student
who uses vague abstractions poured into a preset form will
end up being interpreted as a vague series of abstractions.
A student who uses a cliché becomes a cliché to admissions
officers. We are what we eat; we are also what we write.
A preset
form leads to a generic essay, and so does a generic approach
to what's perceived as the right topic. Too many students
begin the search for what to write about by asking, ''What
does my college want to hear?'' The thinking goes: If I can
figure out what they are looking for, and if I can make myself
look like that, then I'll improve my chances.
Several
years ago, the University of Virginia, where I work, asked
students to describe an invention or creation from the past
that was important to them. The No. 1 response–from at least
a thousand people–was the Declaration of Independence. This
fact might make some people think that our collegebound students
are wonderfully patriotic, but since the institution was founded
by Thomas Jefferson, I have a more realistic answer. Many
students chose the Declaration because they thought that my
colleagues and I would want to hear about how much they admired
Thomas Jefferson. Whether this was a noble sentiment or a
cynical maneuver, it meant that the university received a
thousand essays that sounded pretty much alike and had virtually
no positive bearing on the admission decision. Virginia is
not looking for students who all think the same way, believe
the same thing, or write the same essay.
The
bad. Too often, students who want to avoid writing in
a generic form or about a generic topic choose exactly the
wrong remedy. They think that bigger topics–or bigger words–are
better. But it is almost impossible, in a standard-length
essay of 500 words, to write well about a vast topic: death,
religion, politics, whatever. I am not advocating longer essays
(remember how many applications admissions officers have to
read); I am advocating essays with a tight focus and specific
use of detail. In the world of admissions it is not God but
the applicant who exists in the details.
Unfortunately,
instead of detail, students try to impress colleges with big
words. In trying to make feeding the homeless sound intellectual
in the excerpted bad essay, the student resorted to a thesaurus
and sounds pretentious. The act of helping the poor is hidden
behind a wall of fancy words. The student assumed that these
words would intensify the reader's experience, but they diminish
it. Any hope of hearing the student's voice is lost because
of a misguided attempt to sound smart.
The
good. A good essay is not good because of the topic, though
that can help, but because of the student's voice as a writer.
A good writer can make almost any topic interesting. A poor
writer can make even the most dramatic topic boring. A good
essay always shows; a poor essay virtually always tells. By
showing, a writer appeals to all of the senses, not just the
visual. To show means to provide an assortment for the eyes,
ears, and, depending on the essay, the mouth, nose, or skin.
The student
whose essay appears as an example of the good has risked describing–showing
in detail–the deterioration of her father as he is treated
for cancer. I do not know of a single member of Virginia's
admissions staff who was not affected by this essay. The writer
carefully noticed everything that was happening to her father.
She opens with the sound of his coughing and then creates
a scene that we can see clearly. Writing about death and sickness
is one of the most difficult topics to tackle in a college
essay. Almost impossible, as I said above. But here is an
example of good writing that also conveys the writer's courage
to face a terrible situation head-on with intellect and power.
A writer
who shows respects the intelligence of the reader; a writer
who tells focuses on the ideas, or the perceived ideas, behind
the details. The latter is often more concerned about demonstrating
the ability to be abstract than the capacity to be precise.
In a short, personal essay, however, precision is power.
The
risky. Any student who has learned the basics of showing
should think about taking a risk on the college essay. What
kind of risk? Think about starting an essay with: "I sat in
the back of the police car.'' Or, as in the example of the
risky: "The woman wanted breasts.'' These topic sentences
reach out from the page and grab our attention. They create
a bit of controversy and an expectation that the writer might
be willing to take academic risks in the classroom. That does
not mean a good essay necessarily follows, but it does mean
that a reader can look forward to what will unfold.
Students
wonder if they will be penalized if they take a risk in an
application. They want to know if there is any risk in taking
a risk. Of course there is. A risky essay might border on
the offensive. In some cases, as in the excerpt, it is possible
that a few readers might write off an applicant because of
his or her questionable taste. But in my experience, the majority
of admissions officers are open-minded. Erring on the side
of the baroque might not be as bad as staying in the zone
of the boring. Those who are willing to take a risk in their
essay, to focus tightly on a topic, and to show readers a
world through striking detail will certainly help their chances
of admission.
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