When I Dropped Out At 20, My Sister Told Everyone: “She’s The One Who Didn’t Finish.” Twelve Years Later, I’m Yale’s Dean Of Admissions. One Essay Read: “My Family Moved Past My Aunt’s Setback.” The Name? Amanda Chen. My Niece. I Picked Up My Red Pen And…

I called Jennifer. The number was still in my contacts under her full name, unchanged from years ago, which felt suddenly absurd and intimate. She answered on the fourth ring. “Hello?” she said, cautious, already irritated at the unknown interruption. “Jennifer,” I said. “It’s Rachel.” The silence that followed was so complete I checked the call had continue reading …