Seniors, your intake of college mail is about to go up--way up.Colleges believe August is the right time to contact seniors, since there's a chance you'll have more time to actually read the material they send and complete college applications before school starts-- not a bad idea, since you don't have any (dare I say it?) homework just yet.

Of course, there are a couple of down sides to applying to college this early in the game.If an application requires essays, you'll want to make sure they represent your best writing--and since your last writing was in Suzie's yearbook in June, you probably want to knock out a couple of drafts and have a teacher review them, unless you're applying for a text messaging scholarship (“KIT, your BFF on the QT”).

“But dude!” says you, “This application says it's a special rush, early consideration, pre-El Grito de Independencia application.This baby has to be signed sealed and postmarked by September 16^thin order for me to get special consideration from this college.”

This is the second thing you need to know, and it's pretty important.A number of colleges are sending out applications that are already filled out. To make applying as easy as possible, you just have to sign your name and send it back in a pre-paid envelope.In some cases you'll add your classes for this year, and they may ask you to sign somewhere else so they can order copies of your test scores, but that brings the total application time to around 2 minutes.

The catch?Many of these applications give you the impression they have to be postmarked by September 15^th, or you'll lose out on the special consideration you're getting.Since many high schools in theUSdon't start until September 7^th, that means you really have to move to get your high school to send your transcript, and for you to get the form in on time.

What to do?Relax.

These colleges may mean well, but the stress of getting applications in that soon can deflate seniors before school even opens, and puts transcript demands on high schools that simply can't be met.That's why colleges that are members of the National Association for College Admission Counseling must give equal consideration to all applications received by October 15.This is a brand new rule, but it basically means you don't really have to FedEx an application to make the Labor Day deadline.Cool?

If you get a “preferred” application you have questions about, call the college and ask them about the October 15^thrule, or ask the Admissions Practices person in your state or region to explain NACAC's guidelines to you and to the college.You can find your state or region information at http://www.nacacnet.org/AboutNACAC/Governance/Pages/default.asp, and the October 15^th rule can be found at http://www.nacacnet.org/AboutNACAC/Policies/Documents/SPGP.pdf (See item 12 on page 4).

August is a good time to look at flyers from colleges that are new to you--it can open your eyes to new possibilities, or at least confirm your ideas about what you're looking for.It's also a great time to knock out a draft of your essays--but more than one draft probably can't happen just quite yet, and rushing apps in is no one's idea of a good time, especially before Snuffleupagus' birthday (Dude--you have to ask? August 19^th!)

It's good to be college-focused, but not college-frenzied--so spend some time with the mail, have another lemonade, and lay low.That's the recipe to keep you in company that is truly August.

I met Michael Jackson when I was nine. It was a Sunday, and the O'Connor brothers were driving home from church in my oldest brother's vermillion Ford Maverick.I can't quite remember why my older brother was in church that day. He rarely went, though he did spend a good part of his Sundays in conversations with the Lord as he watched the Detroit Lions on television.

We turned out of the parking lot when my brother turned the radio to CKLW (the big 8), and on it came--ABC. Nice beat, easy to dance to, and a three dimensional melody--up, down, soft, loud, and always forward. “Turn it up” I shouted from the back seat. Up went the volume, down went the accelerator, and off went the O'Connor boys down Woodward Avenue, cruising through the Detroit suburbs in the Pumpkin Express, and feeling mighty baad.

My life wasn't always that exciting--it was usually more like my Optimists Club lunch. They honored three students from each school as Good Citizens, and I had been selected. This should have been a harbinger, since the award proclaimed I was a nice guy, and I was thrilled about being publicly recognized as such. Let it be said that, for at least five minutes, I was a teenager who was comfortable in his own skin.

The five minutes ended over the salad course.I picked up a pitcher that had a white, creamy substance. I poured it over my spinach salad and passed it to the girl next to me.” This is for your salad” I said, “it's ranch dressing” (which, I have to admit, was a brand new product then). She looked in the pitcher and flatly said “This is cream. It's for your coffee.” So much for living large, but it didn't taste bad on the salad. Too bad about the girl, though--she was a redhead, and mighty cute.

This isn't to say my life was completely without fireworks. The lead counselor at the summer camp where I worked wanted the best bonfire ever, so he spent hours layering the wood and putting in the tinder. It took four matches to light the fire that night, and the resulting flame was the size of a softball. He stomped off, an act I took to be one of reason, since swearing in front of the kids was a career-ender at day camp.

He was still stomping when he came back, with what I swear was a jelly jar.He tossed the contents on the fire, and I think the flames warmed the passengers on the airplane flying overhead. The kids were stunned, but in a way that gave them something to talk about--“No, Mom, really. The flames lit the clouds on fire!”

If you're a high school senior, there's a good chance your parents have handed you this and said “Now this is a good college essay.Where's yours?”

I'm sure your parents love you, but if they're really thinking you should spend your last summer in high school working on college essays, it's time for an intervention.Read this, then find your parents, hand back the printout, and say “You're right. It's a great essay because it's based on the life he lived and loved. So I'm going to go out and live a little-- then I'll get back to the essays in August, and it will be fine.He told me so.”

Live these days well, my dear students--and if you run into any redheaded moms, don't mention my name.It would be better that way.

It may seem mighty early, but grumblings are emerging about seniors slacking off in their studies.Known as “senioritis”, this mental vacation doesn't usually happen until April, when the sun is out, graduation is in sight, and a young person's fancy turns to—well, not school.

I've long thought senioritis was vastly misunderstood, but this sighting of December disinterest among students is particularly misdiagnosed:

• Thanksgiving is mighty late this year, so there's only two weeks left between today and Christmas vacation.Seniors just spent four or five days in vacation mode, and they figure if they can maintain that state of mind for the next 10 school days, the upcoming holidays will be that much sweeter—and of course, they're right.
• Many high-achieving students are feeling the strain of waiting to hear about Early Action and Early Decision applications.December 10^thand 15^thare two of the big notification days from private colleges, and since early applications are up, these students are looking past everything else, waiting to hear.
• The same is true for students who applied to rolling admission schools.Many public colleges were caught off guard when students applied in record numbers this fall, hoping to find a deal in an uncertain economy.Now students are saying “What's the deal?”, since overwhelmed admission offices haven't even opened their mail from Halloween, let alone sent out decisions.

Add in a little Thanksg

essays

No part of a college application can be more intimidating than the essay, or personal statement. Over the last few weeks, I've had a chance to ask several admission representatives what they're looking for in an essay. While some of these ideas aren't new, they're still important:

It's a personal statement, not a book reportIt's often said a good personal statement will tell the college a story. That's true—you don't want to write an essay where you say “I love History” when you can tell them an example of when you knew History was your thing— it's much better to show them than to tell them.

The key is telling the story in a way that includes your thoughts and feelings, and not just a narrative of what happened. So yes, by all means tell a story, but be sure to tell them your view on the story—let them see the experience through your eyes, mind, and heart.

Write what you want to say, not what you think they want you to sayThis is still the essay that makes reps either want to jump out of windows or change to upsizing fries for a living. While books like “100 Winning Essays” mean well, they really don't help all that much, because they seem to suggest a) the student got in because of the essay (and you never know that) and b) you can get in writing something just like one of these essays.

Neither is true—they want to hear about you, as written by you. A good test of this is to read your final draft out loud—if it sounds like a thank you note to Aunt Martha for the new socks she gave you, or that sing-songy voice too many people use when reciting the Pledge of Allegiance, it's not your final draft. It's great if Einstein really is your hero, but if it's really Joe the Plumber, talk about Joe. Your best essay brings your talent and ideas to the table, and not someone else's. There's only room for one you at most colleges—the good news is, that's exactly the number available. Show them you—that's what they want.

Don't overlook the small questionsThe other answer that makes reps howl at the moon is the response to the short, precise questions they ask about their school, also known as the “Why Us?” question. In this question, colleges want to know what it is specifically about that school that interests you—so even if it's a small liberal arts college with a study abroad program, saying just that as your “Why Us” answer doesn't work, because there are three dozen other colleges that fit that description.

Visit the Web sites of the colleges you're applying to—that can help you sort out what makes one different from the others. Try and describe that in an adjective or two in your own words. Mentioning a specific program or activity only available at that college is great, and talking about why you see their college as different from other colleges can work, too, as long as you don't mention the other college by name.

The same is true for any other short answer question—detail and insight. If they ask “How did you hear about us?” try something like “You were recommended by my high school counselor, and when I visited campus, I knew he was right. You offer a simulation room with live downloads from Wall Street, and your lacrosse team is the right mix of competition and cooperation for me.” Boom.

Class, your college applications aren't done yet, but it's time to put your pencils down—a couple of heroes have made the headlines, and deserve a minute of your attention.

High school seniors across America lost a great role model this weekend with the passing of Paul Newman—but not for the reason you think. A great actor (my personal favorite was his role inNobody's Fool), he caught the world's attention early and kept it for fifty years. That attention was particularly rapt (yup, SAT word) when he took a breather from the summit of stardom to drive race cars. He was in his forties at the time, an age when most actors are doing everything they can to stay on the silver screen; Paul Newman figured acting would always be there, and decided to follow his heart.

And his heart turned out to be pretty big. He also started a line of food products—salad dressing, pasta sauce, popcorn—that raised money for charities. $250 million later, the guy who looked like the high school quarterback thought like a rebel that had a cause, showing us that extra curriculars can be very cool, that community service is a lifelong habit, and neither one is really about self. That's a cool hand, Luke, and one you can deal for yourself, if you only remember that the important issue isn't what college you get into, but the life you will take with you when you get to the hallowed halls of learning that are next on your radar screen.

And speaking of hallowed halls, many of you are applying to some great colleges most of the world hasn't heard of, thanks to Loren Pope, who also passed on last week. Like Paul Newman, Loren Pope had a first career (as a journalist), then devoted his life to showing students that college is more about what it does to you than for you. His second book,Colleges That Change Lives, is the cure for the college rankings mania that is absolutely meaningless, but still keeps your parents up at night. If you haven't taken the antidote yet, get thee over tohttp://www.ctcl.org/about/why-ctcland call me in the morning—after you leave a printout of the Web site on your parents' pillows.

The genius of these men is their commitment to a vision—and note that phrase has two nouns in it, not one. It was one thing for Paul Newman to dream about downshifting at 180 mph or feeding the world, but riding out the high turn and creating a corporate structure required more than hope; they required a plan, and a commitment to that plan that can best be described as steely—in this case, steely blue. Similarly, Loren Pope could have been happy with saying “Wouldn't it be great if seniors knew what college really was about”, but that wasn't enough—so he set out on a new journey in his mid-fifties, and students he never met have benefited ever since.

It would be easy to look past the contributions these men made to our world—but in doing so, you'd be overlooking the purpose of college itself. The college rankings hype, the Wall Street burn, and the changeless drivel that is once again a poor substitute for real presidential campaigns suggest life is more about what it looks like than what it really is. A movie star and a journalist—tradesmen in industries where superficiality is too easily supreme—begged to differ, and their commitment to that difference has made all the difference.

What difference will you make?

On behalf of all college counselors, I want to send a hearty “M Goi” to the Chinese government on their ethical handling of the opening ceremonies of the Olympics. This very cute little girl with an impressive voice sang a Chinese song of patriotism Saturday night; what no one knew until Tuesday was the girl onstage was actually lip syncing. And why didn't the real diva get her due onstage? According to Olympic officials, the girl who had serious pipes wasn't “cute” enough. Now we find out some of the fireworks that were shown were fake, too—and this from the country that invented fireworks!

It would be easy enough to cut the Chinese a break, since the pressure to put on a great Olympics is heavier than the barbells they're hoisting at the weightlifting venue. Like all things, however, one of the problems here is timing; with high school seniors heading back to school, and with the latest college rankings just published (remember—just say no to rankings), pressure of Olympic proportions may soon be on the shoulders of the largest senior class in US history—and with that pressure to succeed comes the temptation to cut a few corners.

Thanks to good ol' American ingenuity, there are essay “coaches” out there who will be happy to “review” your college essays and tweak them a little, to the point where it's tough to find the part you actually wrote. Well-meaning English teachers at your high school may offer to do this for no charge; while I'm a huge fan of feedback from teachers who know your writing well, having them re-write the essay for you is a huge stretch. In addition, there's also the mistakes we make with no witnesses around; sure, you were only a member of the Chess club, but there was that one time when the advisor put you in charge when he went to grade some papers—so you're OK with telling colleges you were actually President of the club, if only for ten minutes.

I hope you can see where this is going—or rather, where it shouldn't be going. A college application is a reflection of who you are; that'sreflection, as in, you look in the mirror, and you see who you are. Colleges see your application as an un-Photoshopped version of you—not someone else's best version of you, but you—and the way you put yourself in the application is to do the application yourself. Does that mean you don't get a little help tidying up? Hey, Mom tells you to tuck in your shirt right before Thanksgiving dinner, and that's just fine; it's more than right for your application to show the best you—as long as it's you.

If all of this “it's the right thing to do” talk doesn't do much for you—if your take on this is that the game is all about “getting in”—I'm surprised you read this column at all. But as long as you're here, let's say you take the bait and get your essays done for hire. You get in, and it's two years from now—and someone else submits the same essays. How's it going to feel when the Dean of the college walks up to you in your Greek History seminar, asks to speak with you—and tells you to bring your books with you? That will be a lonely ride home, my friend--kind of like having your Olympic medals stripped from you five years after you won them.

Or should I say, sort of won them?

(Enjoy the Olympics—I'll see you in two weeks!)