Collage Essay

LCAE (Long Common App. Essay) Draft 1
When I was about 4 years old, I
Boring. What a boring beginning to an essay. I’m bored and I’m writing it.
The summer before my junior year, I decided
Not much better.
My fingers shake as I set them on the strings—I can feel the eyes of the crowd boring into my back.
Seems a little clichéd.
The car lurches up the ramp, and as my body slides to the back of my seat I feel my stomach twist uneasily.
Yes! A first sentence! Success.
. . .
It’s going to be a really long summer.

My college counselor smiles at me in an innocent, patronizing way as we sit together in her living room, her huge hairy dog sitting on my feet and whacking his tail against my legs. We have been meeting for a year now, though very infrequently—this is still only my 3rd or 4th visit.
“Alexa,” she says, beaming with triumph. “I think I know the right schools for you.”
“Really? What do you recommend?” I’m thrown by this statement—think I have been in her presence for all of 4 hours in my entire life. How could she expect to know enough about me to diagnose my “right college”? She launches into a long lecture about certain colleges and their focuses—while I nod and smile, I pet the dog covertly under the table. My counselor has forbidden me to take notes during our meetings, preferring to take notes herself and then give them to me. I know I should be interested, but my eyes are glazing over and the edges of my brain becoming fuzzy. I feel like I’m about to fall asleep.

I spend too much time looking at Naviance scattergrams. I don’t watch horror movies, but maybe this is an equivalent—looking at the accepted GPA’s of each school over and over, going through the long list for colleges I will definitely be accepted to. Not that I’m worried about getting into college—but will it be the right one? It seems like a bad sign that my little circle in the graph of my top college is filled with other people’s red X’s.

LCAE Draft 3
Okay, by now I should probably know what I’m talking about. I mean, I should have a thesis or something. What is my thesis again?


Mom: “Alexa, let’s do a practice college interview.”
Me: “Mom. . . I really don’t want to. Come on.”
Mom: “Alexa, I feel like I’m getting a lot of resistance from you here. If you want to get into a good college, you are going to need this interview to be well prepared.”
Me: “. . . I know. . . “
Mom: “Okay, here we go. Hello, Alexa. Where do you go to school?”
Me: “New Trier High school, in Illinois?”
Mom: “Try, Alexa. You have to try to get as much information about yourself in as possible. This is not the time for one word answers.”
Me: “Mom, you just asked where I went to school. What else was I supposed to say?”