Summer’s Last Stand

This summer, please leave the arboreal monkeys of Central America in peace.

They have other things to be doing, like grooming and foraging. And they are not going to help you get into college. So you don’t need to pay $11,000 to “study” them for four weeks.

In the 20 odd years I have inhabited the admission space, elaborate, encompassing, lavish summer programs that allegedly provide a wildly differentiating experience have gone from half-serious trope to perceived necessity.

They take a boat load of time. They often have four and five figure price tags. They are a for-profit industry - one that trades on a natural but intense fear of being left out.

And I can tell you from experience, they arouse ever increasing suspicion, skepticism and cynicism in the college admission community. These reactions have become only more pronounced in recent years as colleges have looked to level the playing field between the uber wealthy and everyone else. Good on that.

But they also draw ire because they are so often painfully inorganic. Perhaps some people really want to study monkeys - and that’s great - but most 17-year-olds in America are just trying to sweat through AP Lit and successfully procure a driver’s license without damaging private property.

Moreover, what I have found most colleges are actually looking for are real people, with real interests. Partially unformed, malleable, curious, kind, genuine young people with real voices. And young people who are shaping their college searches around their voices - not shaping their voices around their college searches. This is a critical, but oft overlooked, distinction.

To be clear: I am not saying that you should spend your entire summer buffing your nails and listening to SZA with your GBF (gay best friend) by the pool. You should absolutely have a formative experience - or two - this summer.

But the key is that it doesn’t need to cost as much as a used Honda, and above all: it should be something in which you are authentically invested and interested. A way you want to grow. A way you want to give back. An experience you want to have. This could be canvassing for a political candidate. It could be volunteering with your church youth group. It could be taking advanced coursework at a local college, or coaching small tyke basketball. It could be traveling somewhere you really want to go to do something you really want to do. It could mean getting a job and learning how to earn a few shekels of your own - so you can buy that used Honda for yourself. Just do something that supports and enlivens the person you are honestly becoming.

Definitively: you should also have a summer fit for a teenager of yore. That means: fun. It means some unscripted time to rest and just be young and fabulous. Take your friends out to ice cream. Hike with your Dad. Read something fascinating. Indulge in a crush. Jump in a lake at night. Host a John Hughes film festival on your lawn.

For this is your summer. Your life. It isn’t a dress rehearsal. And the monkeys, God love them, don’t need to be in your show.