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…

seriously, which meant the pages landed on my desk after everyone else had already decided the project was probably mediocre. I started reading on the subway ride home and missed my stop by three stations. The novel was structurally messy, full of exuberant flaws, but alive in a way I had learned not to ignore. The voice leapt. The scenes cracked open continue reading …