Edit desk: An update for admissions: my college essay rewrite

College Essays. 

We write them, we submit them to the universities we desire to attend and we tell the admissions staff — in 650 words or less — “this is who I am.” 

Then, they rot in our high school email’s expired Google Drive, never to be revisited.

As we departed from our hometowns, those vulnerable stories served as an entry point for the next phase in our educational careers. 

Over three years ago, I sent my essay to Lehigh, eager to prove that I deserved to call Bethlehem home because I possessed all of the qualities of the ideal student.

Still, I distinctly remember almost every line. And now, I wince at the thought of it.

The person I was when I wrote my college essay is not the same person I consider myself to be today.

To provide some context, the premise of my essay was about having a messy room — I would let my laundry basket pile up until my living space was nearly uninhabitable. 

I then contrasted this humiliating, chaotic personality trait with the meticulous color-coded academic planner I updated religiously. Every subject had its respective shade: Spanish was red, math was blue and so on.

Ultimately, I described myself as a person who — to the outside world — presented the most timely, organized and motivated version of herself, despite the mayhem that occurred behind the scenes. 

I’d like to think my essay aided my acceptance into Lehigh because, at the time, it did authentically express a part of my identity.

However, I can confidently and unapologetically say that I no longer keep a color-coded planner. 

My current room at school is arguably cleaner than my childhood bedroom will ever be, and my clothes hamper seldom reaches full capacity before I decide to complete a load of laundry.

In hindsight, inserting a disclaimer at the bottom of my essay saying “this content is subject to change” would have been more truthful.

I told admissions who I was, but when I arrived on campus, I adopted different habits that gradually altered my former personality. 

Since coming to Lehigh, I have had various identity-shaping experiences. 

For the past three semesters on The Brown and White, I wrote for the sports section.

Something worth noting: Though I enjoy writing, I really dislike sports. 

I originally wrote for the section having limited knowledge of game terminology only because of my ambition to secure a role on the editing team. Sports provided me with access.

It was messy initially, but I was able to adapt through trial and error. The experience is now among some of my favorites at Lehigh.

Instead of burdening myself with the minute, color-coordinated details of how to be the perfect and most-polished student, I realized that experimenting with a potential “messy” opportunity is key for self-development.

What I once had to offer to Lehigh as a student has changed in these past few years, and it continues to change. 

A more appropriate title for my Common Application essay would have been: “I don’t know who I am yet. Please accept me so I can figure it out at your university.”

To me, writing an edit desk feels college essay-esque. 

Only this time, I am given the opportunity to practice introspection from the viewpoint of the enrolled student, as opposed to the aspiring one. 

I feel grateful to receive the reminder that self-reflection is a critical component of growth, both as a human being and as a student journalist. 

One day I hope to look back on this piece, embarrassed, and question if I was the person who wrote it. 

Though I may never again be asked by a third party to submit an essay, or tasked with squeezing my complex and ever-changing personality into a few mere paragraphs, documenting the different stages of my life is something that I will continue to hold myself accountable for.

Whether I archive this process in a college essay, an edit desk or a journal entry that nobody but I will read, I strive to remain so consistently dynamic that my past self becomes unrecognizable.