What I Did Right and Wrong on My Ivy League Application

• I reviewed my Yale admissions packet to see what the Ivy League school thought of my application.
• Most of my scores weren’t that impressive, but they really appreciated my sincere attitude and enthusiasm.
• Reviewing my application reminded me of how far I have come as a student.

“Brian spoke so fast it was electrifying.”

This was the first quote from my interviewer at Yale. She wrote those words in my admissions packet, a document I finally got my hands on three years after being accepted to Yale University.

I remember this interview like it was yesterday. It was a Zoom call — my application cycle happened in the heart of pandemic distance learning — and I was wearing my dad’s old oversized shirt. The interviewer was lovely. Some of my answers to her questions probably didn’t make sense, and she was right. I definitely forgot to breathe between my sentences.

But looking at my admissions file years later gave me insight into what my interviewer was really thinking that day, and I learned what really brought me to Yale.

I reviewed my application as a junior with the registrar

In the United States, every student can view their college admissions records under the Family Educational Rights and Privacy Act. I emailed my university registrar, and within 45 days, a member of their support staff contacted me to schedule a virtual meeting. Taking photos and recording was not allowed, so I took notes by hand.

There was very little verbal interaction between me and the staff member. She shared my admissions packet and let me read in silence. Something told me she understood the emotional weight of this moment for the students, and I appreciated that. It’s intimidating for any teenager to present their identity in a 650-word Common Application essay and quiz — but it’s arguably even more intimidating to witness in retrospect how everything was judged.

I Got a Behind-the-Scenes Look at Yale Admissions When They Read My Application

Each aspect of my application was scored out of nine points. My readers gave me a six for my extracurricular activities and for my first teacher recommendation. They gave me a seven for my and my advisor’s second teacher recommendation. I received an “outstanding” for my interview and a 2++ for my overall rating. The overall rating is given on a scale of 1 to 4, with 1 being the highest, and pluses are a good sign.

Overall, my grades weren’t exactly bad, but they weren’t great either. The numbers on the pages stared back at me – cold, formulaic and transactional. It was strange to be reduced to a system of numbers, knowing that something as qualitative as extracurricular activities could still be broken down and graded.

But beyond the grades, what really stands out are the comments left by admissions officers. Most of the comments were about my character, my essays, and the possible contributions I would make as a student.

“I cried reading essay 1,” one reader wrote about my Common Application essay. Another said of the same essay: “Her Chinese New Year is untraditional in the sense that it reminds her of her family’s financial difficulties. »

I became emotional. All the memories of writing this essay came flooding back. I remembered how difficult it was to start it. I knew there was no easy way for someone to understand me without first knowing my background. I wanted to prove that I deserved a seat at the table where alumni and the wealthy continue to outnumber their low-income, first-generation peers like me.

I continued reading and found other comments from admissions officers that moved me: “He treats his mother well; » “He seems to have a really good heart;” “One of the most intelligent, sincere and cheerful students ever met;” “I have no doubt that Brian would push his peers at Yale to stand up for what is right;” and “I come away with compelling impressions that the student would contribute meaningfully to the undergraduate community.”

I looked for a negative comment. There were none.

I didn’t deserve this, I muttered under my breath. There I was, a freshman in college, no longer a 4.0 student, my graduate school plans were murky, I was balancing two part-time jobs, and hoping to make it out of midterms alive . It was nice to know that someone had encouraged me to be here.

The process reminded me of how far I’ve come

Coming from an underserved household where no one had gone to college, I had always viewed the Ivy League application process with skepticism.

Without the resources to enroll in SAT test prep and the financial safety net to pursue unpaid leadership positions and in-school outreach, I had doubted the “holistic” admissions process which many colleges boast of. My criticisms of Yale remain numerous.

But at least in their comments, the admissions committee was gracious to me by reviewing my application in light of my situation. I may never know exactly what happened in that reading room. Yet a few lessons ring true, based on my own viewing experience and conversations with others who have done the same: Good character and potential are key; I didn’t need to be perfect.

And finally, it was me – and no one else – who was supposed to give me the chance to apply in the first place.

“GPA is exceptional, especially in context,” said an admissions official. “It’s a home run.”