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…

in Evanston. Misery and meaning are not the same thing. I had been miserable at Northwestern in a way that flattened me. In New York I was frightened, overworked, underpaid, and more myself than I had ever been.

That first winter in New York nearly sent me back more than once, not because the work was wrong but because survival has a way of stripping continue reading …