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…

she understood. “Rachel…” “I’m not calling to fight,” I said again, because I was suddenly desperate not to lose whatever crack had opened. “I’m calling because Amanda got in. She was admitted. Unanimous vote. She is an exceptional applicant.” What came through the line next was not speech but crying. Not loud, theatrical crying. Shocked crying. The continue reading …