Confession time: I love helping students craft college applications. Weird hobby? Maybe. But to me, an application is like a storybook—a student’s life condensed into essays, activities, and a little brag sheet sprinkled with personality.

When it’s done well, it sings. When it’s not… well, let’s say admissions officers have probably rolled their eyes more times than I can count.

After working with numerous students, I’ve noticed a recurring pattern of mistakes. Consider this your friendly guide (with a few stories and a little humor) to avoid falling into the same traps.

Here’s the truth: colleges want you. Not a robot’s version of you. I once had a student copy an AI essay and forget to delete the placeholder that literally said “(insert college name here).” Nothing says “admit me!” like proving you didn’t even read your own essay, right?

You’ve lived 17 years. That’s 17 years of stories, adventures, embarrassing moments, and lessons learned. Scroll through your camera roll, chat with your parents, or remember that one time you failed spectacularly and laughed about it later. That’s your gold.

Your essay isn’t a Netflix pilot episode. You don’t need 45 minutes of setup before the action starts. The real magic is in the lesson—what happened, how you grew, who you became.

Don’t say, “I became more compassionate.” Show it. Tell me how you once walked by someone eating lunch alone, but now you pull up a chair and strike up a conversation. That’s growth. That’s character.

This is not the place to summarize your résumé. This is the place to show admissions officers a side of you they’d never see otherwise. The Lego city you secretly build, the way you belt out 90s boy band songs in the car, the fact that you’re the unofficial dog-walker of your neighborhood.

Surprise them. Delight them. Make them say, “I’d like this kid as a roommate.”

Some students lean too hard into trauma dumps. Here’s the rule: share with purpose. If it doesn’t tie to growth, strength, or resilience, save it for your journal.

One student once wrote so much about her mom’s illness that the essay accidentally read like she wasn’t ready to leave home. The better version? Writing about how her mom’s cancer forced her to grow independent—learning to grocery shop, cook, and run a household as a teenager – and how it translated to different areas of her life outside the home. Same story, better framing.

Your activities list should not look like the Cheesecake Factory menu—with too many options and no clear theme. Stick to one or two threads that show focus. If you want business, highlight DECA, your Etsy store, or that time you made actual money flipping sneakers. Colleges want direction, not dabbling.

If you already covered it in your personal statement, don’t rehash it in your supplements. Each essay is a new chance to show a different angle of who you are. And if the word count is 200? Don’t turn in 150. That’s like leaving a brownie half-eaten—it just doesn’t make sense.

At the end of the day, your application is a highlight reel of you. Give admissions officers a story worth remembering, not one they’ve read a hundred times. Make them laugh, nod, or lean in closer. But most of all—make them believe that behind those words is a student they’d love to welcome to campus.