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…

and I continued the slow work of building a relationship neither of us had ever practiced. My parents remained complicated, occasionally regressively formal, occasionally startlingly warm. No miracle erased the lost years. Holidays were still awkward. Certain subjects could still send the old tension skittering across the table. Yet there was also continue reading …