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…

truth. “So,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind one ear, “you read my essay.” I laughed. “I did.” She winced. “I’m sorry if that was weird.” “It was,” I said. “But not in a bad way.” She blew out a breath and then smiled properly. “Good. Because I meant every word.” Over the next two hours she told me about writing stories in secret on her phone continue reading …