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When J. Robert Oppenheimer began attending Harvard University as an undergraduate in 1922, he had only recently recovered from a serious gastrointestinal illness (Wikipedia contributors) that had put him well behind his intended timeline for graduation. In order to make up for time lost, young Robert enrolled in six courses per term—50% more than the typical four—so that he would be on track to graduate with a major in Chemistry in only three years. In spite of his efforts to fast-track his degree, ostensibly, he was dismayed to find that his coursework did not challenge him sufficiently, and he is reputed to have audited two or three courses every semester “just for fun” (Wilson). The explosive truth about fit begins with the idea that Robert found his education at Harvard (yes, that Harvard—one of the most prestigious universities in the world) a little too easy. Indeed, as the biography American Prometheus notes:

Though committed to a chemistry major, that spring he petitioned the Physics Department for graduate standing, which would allow him to take upper-level physics courses. To demonstrate that he knew something about physics, he listed fifteen books he claimed to have read. Years later, he heard that when the faculty committee met to consider his petition, one professor, George Washington Pierce, quipped, “Obviously if he [Oppenheimer] says he’s read these books, he’s a liar, but he should get a Ph.D. for knowing their titles.” (Bird and Martin 33)

Oppenheimer did indeed finish his degree at Harvard in three years, and what is more, he graduated summa cum laude, “made the dean’s list, and was one of only thirty students to be selected for membership in Phi Beta Kappa” (Bird and Martin 38). He would soon be admitted to a graduate program in Physics at the University of Cambridge (or, as Harvard students like to call it, “the other Cambridge”). And although Cambridge was perhaps the peer institution of peer institutions, it is where young Robert’s life would begin to fall apart.

But why would a brilliant student like Oppenheimer—one who could glide through Harvard with summa cum laude honors—struggle at Cambridge? The answer lies in what many students and families underestimate in the college admissions process: the explosive truth about fit. (For more on fit and Harvard, see this post.)

At Harvard, Oppenheimer’s academic prowess and voracious intellectual appetite made him a standout, even among an elite cohort. But at Cambridge, the landscape shifted. For one, the culture at Cambridge emphasized hierarchical mentorship, with Oppenheimer placed under the supervision of Patrick Blackett, a future Nobel laureate in Physics. Blackett, by all accounts, was brilliant—but also known for his demanding and abrasive personality. The mentorship fit was abysmal. Oppenheimer found Blackett’s supervision suffocating and uninspiring, leading to tensions that would eventually boil over. At one point, Oppenheimer even left a poisoned apple on Blackett’s desk—a desperate, darkly symbolic act that underscored just how alienated and unmoored he had become.

Academically, Oppenheimer’s transition from Harvard’s flexible and intellectually expansive environment to Cambridge’s rigid, apprenticeship-style system also posed challenges. While Harvard had allowed him to chart his own course, indulge his intellectual whims, and even petition for exceptions, Cambridge demanded singular focus and submission to authority. The mismatch between Oppenheimer’s learning style and Cambridge’s structure made his time there a miserable experience—one that not only nearly landed him in a psychiatric hospital but also came close to permanently ending his academic career. (Remarkably, Cambridge did not expel him after the poison apple incident came to light.)

This brings us to the explosive truth about fit: even at the most prestigious institutions, even for the most brilliant minds, a mismatch between the student and the environment can derail success.

So what can we learn from Oppenheimer’s story?

First, “fit” is not just about academics or rankings. It’s about the interplay of the student’s personality, values, and learning style with the institution’s culture, structure, and expectations. Cambridge was a dreadful fit for young Robert, but even at Harvard, where he thrived academically, he suffered personally, enduring frequent bouts of depression. (Ok, perhaps Oppenheimer is not coming across as the poster child for emotional stability, but certainly his slow interpersonal maturation would have been an important factor to consider in institutional choice!) In short, neither institution was a strong fit for Oppenheimer.

Second, even the most capable individuals can falter in an environment that doesn’t align with their needs. One might expect one of the greatest scientific minds of the twentieth century to align well with two of the greatest educational institutions in the world. Yet aptitude isn’t everything. Oppenheimer was far happier (and probably no less stimulated) elsewhere. In the biography, a number of pages are devoted to Robert’s years studying at the Ethical Culture School, a private high school with a highly nurturing approach to education where he flourished. Others describe the happy summer he spent in New Mexico, a landscape that would charm him so completely that he would ultimately return to carry out the Manhattan Project. Clearly, Oppenheimer would have benefitted from substantially more compassionate pastoral guidance and access to nature (factors that many students consider today).

Finally, it’s a reminder that prestige, while appealing, is no substitute for finding a place where a student can thrive. While there can be no doubt that Oppenheimer led a successful life, had he chosen his institutions based on a stronger sense of himself, perhaps his legacy would not be quite so complicated as it is today.

Choosing a university is about more than chasing a name. It’s about ensuring the environment will challenge, support, and inspire in equal measure. As Oppenheimer’s story shows, the wrong fit can lead even the brightest stars to dim—while the right one can make them shine brighter than ever.

NOTE: This article first appeared on the website of our colleagues at Distinctive College Consulting.

This one’s personal for me. While I’ve never hidden my own neurodiversity, I’ve also never before addressed it in a public forum like this one. But part of my neurodiversity has been a guileless—at times appreciated by some as honest and direct, at others derided as naive—willingness to open up to others, the consequences be damned. Falling squarely (and unapologetically) into that category, this post addresses neurodiversity and admissions.

I remember, for example, when I began my graduate school career at Harvard, being asked for a bio to post on a bulletin board with my photo alongside those of the other graduate students. When I received the edited version back from Frannie, the department administrator, all mention of my haplessly disclosed attention deficit disorder had been removed. She had done it, I later realized, to protect me from a culture in which—as a close friend and colleague once put it—“everyone is constantly taking the measure of everyone else” (a culture which, in retrospect, was not a great fit for me). In spite of the risk of divulging a particular others might perceive as weakness, it had never occurred to me to conceal such a quintessential part of who I am.

At the end of the day, my neurodiversity is what makes me me. Have I suffered from a crippling inability to sit still and do three math problems in a row or string together a couple of words? Yes, though thankfully, over time I’ve come to love math and, as you can no doubt discern, words delight me to no end! Was I bullied throughout grade school because I struggled to stay on task and was too slow to pick up on the social valances to respond? Also yes.

And it’s exactly this hapless, guileless, naive willingness to plunge into the unmeasured (and sometimes simply disregarded) depths of social nuance that has also given me one of the greatest gifts of my neurodiversity: perspective. 

Perspective is just one of the many advantages of a neurodiverse mind. Each of these advantages merits lengthy consideration and a future post. Though neurodiversity has been historically persecuted as a disability, its reputation is wholly undeserved and the beauty of its difference grievously and repeatedly misunderstood. Sadly, the world has no shortage of excessively vocal narrow minds. Because as I addressed in this post, there are two sides to every coin, and perceiving our ostensible weaknesses for the strengths they proffer is just a matter of…well… perspective.

To give you a sense of what I mean about perspective, allow me to share an anecdote from college. It’s a bit of a cognitive journey. If you identify as neurodiverse as I do, I’m betting you’re also willing to come along for the ride. If, on the other hand, you identify as neurotypical and this seems like an extravagant diversion… it is, but indulge me.

Because I spent the entirety of my formal academic career studying Italian, it often surprises people to learn that the most memorable course I took in college was a Physics course: Relativity, taught by the brilliant, inimitable Professor Morton Tavel. Prof. Tavel made it his mission to do something that every great educator ought to but that only the greatest do: making their subject, no matter how inscrutable, both accessible and so devastatingly engaging that you cling to their every word.

I will never forget the lesson in which Prof. Tavel explained the human mind’s hopeless inadequacy when it comes to grasping the existence of the fourth dimension (time, according to Einstein). In one hand, Prof. Tavel held a sheet of standard white paper and in the other, a pencil. Imagine—he said—that you are a two-dimensional being living inside that gossamer two-dimensional universe, going about your two-dimensional life with two-dimensional self-assurance, convention, and predictability. He paused, smiled mischievously, and with dramatic flourish, stabbed the pencil through the page. Now—he said, projecting even more loudly—imagine your two-dimensional world suddenly pierced by this object traversing it in a third dimension. What would you, a two-dimensional being, see—he asked—and we answered him: a two-dimensional obstacle. You don’t look up and you don’t look down—because for you, there is no up or down—only left and right, width and length, the two dimensions of your universe. Yes!—he explained—and that is how difficult it is for the three-dimensional human mind to grasp quadri-dimensionality. As the reasonably intelligent but cosmically primitive inhabitants of a three-dimensional world, it is all but impossible.

That idea has stuck with me for over 25 years now, because to this day I remain awed not merely by the physics, but also by the wisdom of the metaphor. To dare disturb the universe, as Eliot so musically phrased it (or to alter the curvature of space-time, as Einstein and Prof. Tavel might prefer), we must all strive to stare off into a dimension the mere existence of which most minds are ill-prepared to understand, and presume not only to discern it, but also to traverse its mysteries with both childlike wonder and the proverbial conviction of one who owns the place.

Neurodiverse thinkers are gifted with each of those qualities: boldness, childlike wonder, and conviction. We are unfettered by the typical constraints of social mores; endowed with a magnificent lack of inhibition to transcend into peculiarity, eccentricity, and artistry. This perspective, in turn, allows us to hop the fence of tacit accord so audaciously that we find ourselves stumbling upon other dimensions.

Just look at Einstein.

Now, you may be wondering what neurodiversity and admissions have to do with one another. A lot, actually! One of the most challenging aspects of the application process—in fact, possibly the single most elusive of all—is setting yourself apart from the crowd. If you are lucky (yes, lucky!) enough to have the remarkable perspective that neurodiversity affords, use it to your advantage by following it where it leads you—in terms of ideas, activities, passion projects, and so on—no matter how unusual or niche. In fact, the more unusual and niche, the better, and the more readily your application will be noticed by admissions officers. If you identify as neurotypical, though, and exploring the road less traveled leaves you with a feeling of displacement or even dread, take it from this neurodiverse writer: be daring, because admissions favors the bold.

NOTE: I wish to add here that it is not my intention to draw anyone unwillingly into my own conception of neurodiversity. There are many so-called diagnoses that can be lumped into this category. Many of them have overlapping characteristics. Some may identify more with one than another, and may not wish to be lumped at all. For my part, I like to think of us all as allies, if not sisters and brothers, but I fully respect each individual’s right to identify as they see fit.

NOTE: This article first appeared on the website of our colleagues at Distinctive College Consulting.

by Anthony Terenzio

Ah, the personal statement: 650 words to capture the essence of you, your aspirations, your merits, and how you stack up against many others like you, all vying for one of a limited number of spots at a given institution. It’s a lot of pressure, to say the least, and certainly one of the big reasons our mentees come to us for support in the first place. After all, it’s no small challenge to distill you down to little over a page, let alone one that puts your best foot forward competitively. That said, it’s often not the distillation that students struggle with; perhaps more frequently, students’ initial toil is to determine what it is they have to say, show, and offer in the first place. This is a challenge because, in their mind, there’s nothing out of the ordinary about their lives; they haven’t invented a source of renewable energy or discovered a long-lost ancient civilization, so there’s nothing for them to show off in their personal statement. This leaves them feeling stuck and discouraged before they even sit down to write. 

While we empathize with this feeling, all of us at Hyll having experienced it ourselves at some point or another (including when preparing our own university and graduate school applications), we also possess enough wisdom on the subject to know that it’s an illusion; the idea that you (or, parents, your student) haven’t lived an interesting or impressive enough life to write a compelling college essay is a bit like the opener from David Foster Wallace’s classic 2005 commencement speech at Kenyon College:

There are these two young fish swimming along, and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says “Morning, boys. How’s the water?” And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes “What the hell is water?” (David Foster Wallace, 2005. Source: Kenyon College Alumni Bulletin)

To paraphrase DFW’s meaning, we have a natural tendency to be like the younger fish – living our lives constantly surrounded by and (quite literally, in the joke) immersed in something we are not even aware exists. His speech goes on to offer an approach to life characterized by conscious decision-making as to what we value instead of living on autopilot, but the core metaphor offers another nugget of wisdom which I will summarize as a recommendation to any student setting out to write a personal statement: notice the profundity of your own life. This may sound difficult, especially if you are operating under the assumption that your life is not profound (or at least not yet), but I promise you, you have lived a life worth writing about, and, likely, one that is much more unique and interesting than you’ve given it credit for. 

This came up recently with one of my students, working on a writing exercise as preparation for a college personal statement. The exercise asked her to reflect on the notion of community in her life, and, when she sent me her response, I was taken aback when she explained that she was not part of any community to speak of. This was particularly surprising given that previous writing prompts I had assigned her as well as many of our discussions had revealed deep roots in her cultural identity and the city/country she comes from as well as a more recent connection with a sort of second home that she developed during a year abroad living with a host family, not to mention a close knit family, a rich social life with many friends connected by shared interests in international travel and languages, and experience regularly volunteering with a food drive. All of these areas of the student’s life were characterized by the groups of people within them; in other words, the respective communities to which she belonged. When I shared my reaction with this student, it was a revelation that community is actually a major salient force in her life.

Like the young fish in the DFW metaphor, this student wasn’t aware of what was all around her, shaping and guiding her path through life. She took another crack at the writing exercise after we discussed this, and her second draft included some powerful reflections on the importance of community in her life that would go on to become a central theme in our discussions around her identity and how to capture it in the personal statement—the idea that the communities she is a part of, especially those she found in unexpected and new places (such as with her host family and local environment during the year abroad), have allowed her to develop a deeper sense of her own value and strengths, especially insofar as growing into a multiculturally-minded and independent person who is ready to step into and thrive in a university setting in another new country. This, naturally, becomes an excellent springboard for developing a compelling appeal for international college admission by way of her personal statement. 

Even if you are not struggling to identify the elements of your being that make for good essay-fodder, take this as a reminder to stop and look around—what do you take for granted? Who has influenced or inspired you, consciously or otherwise? When has your worldview been challenged or your opinions changed? Try free-writing on these topics for twenty minutes, or ask someone close to you—a parent, sibling, or friend—how they see these elements manifested in you. Like the young fish, you may not be aware of how deeply entrenched you are in these elements, but, to paraphrase DFW once again, you ought to make the conscious choice to notice them and how they have impacted you, both during and beyond the college admissions process. 

Picture this: Gothic spires touching misty skies, cobblestone streets whispering centuries-old tales, and, in the middle of it all, a vibrant educational hub buzzing with innovation. Yes, I’m talking about Prague—the city where history isn’t just a backdrop; it’s part of the curriculum.

I recently visited several top universities during a tour organized by Study in Prague, and let me tell you—it was an adventure. Despite the cold and misty weather, the warmth of the people I met at each campus was enough to make anyone forget the chill. Students, faculty, and staff welcomed me with smiles and delicious food, sharing their stories and passions. So what makes Prague such an exciting place to study? Allow me to take you on a journey through four standout institutions that are redefining international education. This blog series dives deep into each university, highlighting the incredible opportunities they offer and helping you discover the perfect fit for your academic journey!

Charles University: Where Legacy Meets Innovation

Let’s start with a legend—Charles University. Founded by Charles IV (yes, that Charles IV, Holy Roman Emporer and King of Bohemia), this institution isn’t just about history; it’s about making history. Imagine walking the same halls where some of Europe’s greatest minds—among them Nikola Tesla, Franz Kafka, and Milan Kundera—once pondered life’s big questions. With 50,000 students—23% international—and over 1,300 programs, it’s like Hogwarts for future leaders. 

Faculties of Medicine

Charles University has five Medicine Faculties where you can find amazing programs in English for each kind of medical school student. The First Faculty of Medicine offers Dentistry and General Medicine, while the Second Faculty of Medicine and Third Faculty of Medicine focus on General Medicine. The Faculty of Medicine in Pilsen and the Faculty of Medicine in Hradec Králové both offer programs in Dentistry and General Medicine. Additionally, the Faculty of Physical Education and Sport features courses like Coaching, Fitness Coaching, and Physiotherapy. High-standard medical education with practical training from year one! I had the pleasure of speaking with several students, and they all agreed that studying medicine at Charles University is a truly unique opportunity to develop into a well-rounded and experienced physician. The students were not only satisfied with the quality of their education but also deeply appreciative of the real-world opportunities to understand what being a doctor truly means. One student was getting ready to go to the hospital that day for her nursing practicum. Another shared that he would be spending over 100 hours working in a hospital the summer following his first year.

Other Fields: from Humanities to Social Science

Beyond medical studies, students can pursue a variety of English-taught bachelor’s programs across multiple faculties. The Faculty of Humanities at Charles University offers a versatile Liberal Arts and Humanities degree—my personal favorite for its flexible, multidisciplinary approach. In the Faculty of Social Sciences, programs include Politics, Philosophy, and Economics, an interdisciplinary Social Sciences course, as well as Economics and Finance, and History and Area Studies. The Faculty of Education provides eight combinations of programs like Choral Singing, Violin, Piano, and English Language. Theology enthusiasts can study Protestant Theology at the Faculty of Theology. The Faculty of Pharmacy in Hradec Králové specializes in Pharmacy, while the Faculty of Science provides an interdisciplinary Science program. Finally, the Faculty of Mathematics and Physics offers a Computer Science degree.

Studying at Charles University offers international students a rich, supportive environment with many advantages. The university provides Foundation Programmes featuring comprehensive language and preparatory courses to help students acclimate academically and culturally. Accommodation is affordable, with 16 dormitories offering over 10,000 beds at rates starting from just €100 per month (although you shouldn’t expect the Ritz Carleton!). Dining options are plentiful and budget-friendly, with 15 university dining halls serving meals from around €2.50, including vegan choices. International students can also work during their studies, as employment permits are available with student visas.

Opportunities Beyond the Classroom

Beyond academics, Charles University fosters extensive international cooperation. As a prominent participant in the Erasmus+ programme, it maintains 3,400 cooperation agreements with partner institutions worldwide, offering 4,000 places for study visits and internships. Each year, more than 1,600 students take advantage of these opportunities. The university is also a center of research and innovation, boasting 11 spin-off companies, 19 patents, and 99 licenses. Collaborations with institutions like the Czech Academy of Sciences further enhance its reputation as a hub for cutting-edge research and development.

Applying

Applying to Charles University is a straightforward process designed to be accessible for international students. Start by choosing your desired program and submitting the application form along with the required fee. You’ll need to obtain recognition of your prior education (a process known as nostrification) to ensure your qualifications align with Czech standards. Once this is approved, you’ll receive your invitation and acceptance letters. Pro tip: January is the ideal time to begin your application, as deadlines typically run from February through August, ensuring ample time to prepare and gather all necessary documentation.

Charles University offers more than just a high-quality education—it provides a transformative experience that blends academic excellence with personal growth. With its rich cultural heritage, world-class facilities, and vibrant international community, students have access to a unique environment that fosters both intellectual and personal development. The university’s affordable living costs, combined with abundant global opportunities such as Erasmus+ and research collaborations, make it an ideal destination for those seeking an enriching educational journey. Ready to take the next step? Visit www.studycharles.cz or email info@cuni.cz to begin your adventure at Charles University!

If you here require a practical rule of me, I will present you with this: ‘Whenever you feel an impulse to perpetrate a piece of exceptionally fine writing, obey it—whole-heartedly—and delete it before sending your manuscript to press. Murder your darlings.’

Arthur Quiller-Couch, British Literary Critic

Increase the font size, make the page margins bigger, or create an invisible header and footer, but never—NEVER—cut words. It’s the mantra that any high school student in the throes of their graphological education knows well, because at the high school level our essay goals are defined by quantity (“four pages, double-spaced”), not quality. Where quality is concerned, the most scrupulous high school teachers will require the submission of a rough draft to be marked up, liberated of orthographic and grammatical errors, and resubmitted as what is rather dubiously referred to as a final draft, but it is rare indeed for students to be asked to undertake a more meticulous process of revision. For these students, transitioning from a mentality of merely sufficing to one of excelling is one of the greatest challenges in the college application process.

There are two reasons for this. One is a difference of comparison; the other a difference of repercussions and returns. To receive the highest marks on a high school essay, a student’s work must equal or outshine that of the other 25 students in their class. In the college applications process, however, not only is the bar higher—your work may be compared to that of 80,000 other applicants—but so are the stakes. College essay writers vie not for grades, but rather, for their futures.

Both of these factors must have a massive influence on the attitude we take towards our personal statements and supplemental essays. My students are often surprised (and exasperated) when, fourteen or fifteen revisions in, I am continuing to push them to improve and polish their essays. I get it. My demands of them so far surpass the level of quality required by their scholastic experience that my insistence probably seems to crest a peak of absurdity. And yet successful applications depend on essays that cling to the memories of admissions officers as incessantly as the most cognitively indelible earworms. 

One of the surest ways to arrive at such echelons of quality is to ruthlessly eliminate anything that is extraneous to your narrative. And sometimes even the best writing does not contribute substantively to the story you are trying to tell… which leads me (thank you for your patience) to the idea of “murdering your darlings,” as the phrase was originally coined but which has also been referred to more recently by Stephen King (in his marvelous memoir On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft) as “killing your darlings.” Simply put, killing your darlings means relinquishing what may seem like your best work in the service of your narrative. Incidentally, it’s an idea that inheres in other art forms as well. Filmmakers from Coppola to Kubrick have insisted on the idea that the first thing you must do after shooting a film is to throw out your best shot. Similarly, Alfred Hitchcock famously stated, “Drama is life with the dull bits cut out.”

Whatever form of the phrase you prefer, “killing your darlings” bespeaks the moral quandary of the action: how can we (and why would we) extinguish something we hold so dear?

Let’s start with why. Your best writing (or in the filmmaking world, your best shot) is very hard to let go of, and as such an unfailing allegiance to it can become a colossal distraction from the task of assembling a strong, cohesive narrative. By retaining these marvelously crafted (but irrelevant) baubles of writing, the rest of your narrative is inevitably siphoned off into the orbit of their gravitational pull. The resulting system may boast cosmic beauty, but that doesn’t mean that it is capable of supporting life. 

Killing your darlings, destructive though it may seem, is therefore an essential act of affirmation: affirmation of the rest of your narrative. Mary Douglas, one of my favorite anthropologists, in her seminal work on the concept of dirt (or, as she puts it, “matter out of place”) calls eliminating the extraneous an act of “positively re-ordering our environment, making it conform to an idea […] a creative movement, an attempt to relate form to function, to make unity of experience.” 

Hopefully you are with me so far on why killing your darlings is so important. Let’s explore how—and here we return to the world of filmmaking for an answer. In his marvelous monograph on the art of filmmaking, Making Movies, acclaimed director Sidney Lumet writes that every film must be about one thing, and one thing only:

For now, suffice it to say that the theme (the what of the movie) is going to determine the style (the how of the movie). The theme will decide the specifics of every selection made in all the following chapters. I work from the inside out. What the movie is about will determine how it will be cast, how it will look, how it will be edited, how it will be musically scored, how it will be mixed, how the titles will look, and, with a good studio, how it will be released. What it’s about will determine how it is to be made.

The same is true of writing, and especially the writing of college essays, with its requirement for such a tight, unerring narrative. What is your essay really about? Once you know that, every aspect of your essay must conform: from word choice to narrative, style to theme. Anything that doesn’t serve the purpose should be binned—even your best writing.

All of this amounts to a paradigm shift in the minds of most of my students. When I slate large swaths of their text (whether deserving of affection or aversion) for deletion, there is a conspicuous pain in their eyes. But remember, killing your darlings, violent though it may seem, is a sacrifice in the service of a higher purpose.

This post first appeared on the website of our colleagues at Distinctive College Consulting.

Napoleon was only 26 years old. The French Revolution had just occurred but France was still attempting to overcome a state of relative disarray. After having served its fledgling government by successfully leading the siege of Toulon and quashing a counterrevolution, he was, for the first time, given command of an army and charged with removing the Austrian armed forces from Italy. Imagine how terrifying it might be to your average 26-year-old, having scarcely surpassed adolescence, to be thrust into the command of an army with rank superiority over seasoned, sinewy veterans with decades more experience than you. And yet according to one eyewitness to the moment, here is how young Napoleon handled it:

Flinging his hat on a large table in the middle of the room, he went up to an old general named Krieg, a man with a wonderful knowledge of detail and the author of a very good soldiers’ manual. He made him take a seat beside him at the table, and began questioning him, pen in hand, about a host of facts connected with the service and discipline. Some of his questions showed such a complete ignorance of the most ordinary things that several of my comrades smiled. I was myself struck by the number of his questions, their order and their rapidity. But what struck me still more was the sight of a commander-in-chief perfectly indifferent about showing his subordinates how completely ignorant he was of various points of a business which the youngest of them was supposed to know perfectly, and this raised him a thousand cubits in my opinion.

(Wilson, “Napoleon Bonaparte”)

What can we learn about success in the world by studying its greatest leaders, past and present? This is the question that premises one of my favorite podcasts, How to Take Over the World. In each episode (or series of episodes), host Ben Wilson recounts the story of a world leader—some geniuses of military conquest and government like Napoleon, Julius Caesar, and Alexander the Great, and others of ideas and innovation, such as Leonardo Da Vinci, the Wright Brothers, and Steve Jobs—and analyzes the qualities that made them great. I cannot recommend this podcast highly enough to my students, not only because Ben is a consummate storyteller who brings history (never, I must admit, one of my favorite subjects in school) to life, but also because the lens of world domination, as it turns out, provides one fascinating case study after another about how to be spectacularly successful at what you do.

Take Napoleon, for example. Confidence, even at the risk of revealing his ignorance, was one of Napoleon’s defining qualities. And while this observer was struck by Napoleon’s ignorance, he was thunderstruck by his confidence. As a teaching fellow and later a lecturer at Harvard, I saw again and again how important this was. Harvard (and top institutions like it) suffer from epidemic levels of impostor syndrome. Many of its students (and yes, professors, administrators, and so on) are terrified of being perceived as fraudulent interlopers or the result of a late-night, bleary-eyed admissions error. Time and again, I was struck by the lengths my students would go to to demonstrate how much they knew: nevermind that it was the first day of class and presumably they had come to acquire knowledge, not demonstrate that they already had it. Such environments give rise to one of the greatest enemies of learning: fear of asking questions. Asking questions is how we learn (just ask Socrates!). What is more, it is how we set the stage to foster an environment of inquiry and trust. Napoleon’s complete disregard for others’ perceptions of his inexperience positioned him perfectly to learn everything he needed to successfully execute his first command—and he went on in short order to rout the Austrian army and eject them from Italy.

From Napoleon, How to Take Over the World soon turns to Steve Jobs, a conqueror of another sort who nonetheless shared many of Napoleon’s leadership qualities. In the episodes on Jobs, which draw heavily from the Walter Isaacson biography, we learn that Steve was famous for his “reality distortion field,” through which he managed to convince employees and collaborators that the impossible was, in fact, possible. While the examples abound, the following is one of my personal favorites:

One day Jobs came into the cubicle of Larry Kenyon, an engineer who was working on the Macintosh operating system, and complained that it was taking too long to boot up. Kenyon started to explain, but Jobs cut him off. “If it could save a person’s life, would you find a way to shave ten seconds off the boot time?” he asked. Kenyon allowed that he probably could. Jobs went to a whiteboard and showed that if there were five million people using the Mac, and it took ten seconds extra to turn it on every day, that added up to three hundred million or so hours per year that people would save, which was the equivalent of at least one hundred lifetimes saved per year. “Larry was suitably impressed, and a few weeks later he came back and it booted up twenty-eight seconds faster,” Atkinson recalled. “Steve had a way of motivating by looking at the bigger picture.”

(Isaacson)

While Steve’s approach did not always work, there are certainly lessons to be drawn from it. Few things are as valuable in life as believing in yourself, which, when done well can persuade others to believe in your ideas too. Many students who come to us at Hyll, for instance, dream of studying at an Ivy League university. They have perfect grades and near-perfect test scores but are discouraged to learn that that simply isn’t enough. Indeed, entrance to the world’s most selective universities also requires them to show a staggeringly steadfast commitment to a passion—the kind of commitment that, while it can be difficult to measure, typically leads to national (or even international) recognition. And while this may seem difficult, it is possible: we see it all the time. And it begins with an unwavering, unapologetic, reality-bending belief in oneself. If Steve Jobs, why not you?

How to Take Over the World host Ben Wilson is fond of saying that knowing what you want is a superpower. We couldn’t agree more, and Walt Disney (featured in a two-episode series) provides another excellent example. Similarly to Jobs and many other important leaders, Disney had a nearly maniacal focus on pursuing his own ideas (I am also reminded of James Dyson, subject of an episode of another favorite podcast, Founders). As a young man, in spite of numerous catastrophic setbacks, Disney was obsessed with producing the first animated feature film, and he accomplished it with Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, which would go on to become the highest-grossing animated film for 55 years (Wikipedia contributors). Once successful, Disney began to lose interest in animation and developed a new obsession—trains—to which he devoted so much time that his friends and associates began wondering whether he had lost his mind. He began building enormous train sets in his house and soon developed the idea of opening a theme park. Renowned theme park experts whom he hired to help him realize the idea all told him not to, instead assuring him that he had a spectacular failure on his hands. But Disney was adamant, and it’s hard to exist in the modern world without being able to guess what happened next: Disneyland. From Disney (and others like him) we learn that it isn’t enough to have a great idea. One must also be willing to pursue them even in the face of dogged opposition. Indeed, it is this very characteristic of a great idea—others’ inability to recognize its genius—that lends it its greatest potential. In admissions circles, in fact, we often talk about how an applicant must not be well-rounded, but rather “pointy” or, like Disney, excellent in a few unique areas. Whether your passion is trains, crocheting, or writing electronic music soundtracks to classic films, pursue it with the indefatigable obstinacy of a world conqueror.

So what can we learn from studying how to take over the world? From Napoleon, we learn to be confident enough to always ask questions and never stop learning. From Steve Jobs, we learn the power of believing in ourselves even when others don’t. From Walt Disney, we learn the importance of focus. From Ben Wilson’s podcast How to Take Over the World, we have the opportunity to learn all of this and to be entertained and inspired while doing it.

Works Cited

Isaacson, Walter. Steve Jobs. Abacus, 2015.
Wikipedia contributors. “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937 film).” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, 10 Feb. 2024. Web. 29 Feb. 2024.
Wilson, Ben, host. “Napoleon Bonaparte.” How to Take Over the World, 28 December 2017, https://www.takeoverpod.com/episodes/napoleon-bonaparte.
Wilson, Ben, host. “Steve Jobs (Part 1).” How to Take Over the World, 28 December 2017, https://www.takeoverpod.com/episodes/steve-jobs.
Wilson, Ben, host. “Steve Jobs (Part 2).” How to Take Over the World, 28 December 2017, https://www.takeoverpod.com/episodes/steve-jobs-part-2.
Wilson, Ben, host. “Walt Disney (Part 1).” How to Take Over the World, 20 January 2022, https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/walt-disney-part-1/id1333158713?i=1000548521918.
Wilson, Ben, host. “Walt Disney (Part 2).” How to Take Over the World, 31 March 2022, https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/walt-disney-part-2/id1333158713?i=1000555860087.

Si has solicitado a una o varias universidades estadounidenses recientemente, es muy posible que en breve te contacten para ofrecerte una entrevista. Son una cosa común en el proceso de admisión de las universidades de USA, ya que al tratarse de evaluaciones globales basadas en distintos aspectos de la candidatura, estas entrevistas ayudan al personal de admisiones a conocer más de cerca a los candidatos (to get to know you a bit better). 

Si hay algo que te podemos confirmar es que no hay dos entrevistas iguales. Unas son más informales, otras siguen un guión, unas son más cortas otras más largas, dependerá en gran medida de tu entrevistador y del feeling que tengáis. En cualquier caso, empecemos por una lección básica de repaso de los interrogativos qué, cómo, cuándo, dónde, quién, por qué. En mis años de profe en Harvard, así empezaba mis cursos de principiantes, la mejor manera de aprender algo es preguntado. ¡Lo pasaban súper bien dando vueltas por la clase preguntando lo que estudiaban a todos sus compañeros! A ti también te van a preguntar muchas cosas:

• ¿Cómo eres?¿Qué te gusta?
• ¿Qué haces en tu tiempo libre?
• ¿Quién es tu profesor favorito?
• ¿Háblame de un reto que hayas tenido?
• ¿En qué proyectos estás trabajando ahora mismo?
• ¿Por qué te interesa nuestra universidad?
• ¿Qué quieres estudiar?
• ¿Dónde te ves dentro de 10 años?
• ¿Has hecho voluntariado?
• ¿A qué comunidades perteneces?

Obviamente, responder a estas preguntas puede ser sencillo (juego al fútbol, quiero estudiar Física, soy española), pero esto no es la clase de Spanish A. Estamos en una advanced class, probablemente para una universidad en el top 50 y el reto es hacerlo de modo que tus mejores cualidades, tus valores y talentos se reflejan en las respuestas, que trascienden el mero ejercicio comunicativo. Recuerda, además, que este tipo de entrevistas se realizan (como si de un análisis gramatical se tratara) para ver si hay concordancia (entre el sujeto–tú–y el objeto–la universidad). Por ello, tus respuestas tienen que estar pensadas teniendo en cuenta quién es ese “objeto”, sus valores, misión y cultura, y cuáles son las acciones (o verbos) que os conectan. Responder a este nivel, requiere un gran ejercicio de preparación y no sólo gramatical. Así que, si en unos días tienes tu entrevista con Cornell, Stanford o Iowa State, aquí te dejamos unas tips que te pueden ser muy útiles si lo que quieres es “to ace your admissions interview”: 

Ser y Estar. De cara a una entrevista, lo primero que se debe preparar es cómo describirse, ¿quién eres?¿qué te hace único? No importa lo brillante que seas y los muchos logros que hayas alcanzado es bastante común que, al describirse uno mismo se haga con cierta modestia, dejándose muchas cosas buenas en el tintero. Por eso, es muy importante comenzar esta sección preparando una lista del “Ser y Estar”. En mis años de profesora explicaba todos los años a mis estudiantes que en castellano se usa “ser” para describir cualidades inherentes e invariables y “estar” para describir estados y acciones. La sección “yo sé quién soy” trata un poco de eso. Una vez tengas esta lista repleta de buenos ejemplos, es el momento de cuestionarte el por qué/para qué (el por y para, otro punto gramatical que siempre se les complica a los estudiantes de español). Trata de escribir una pequeña nota a lado de cada una de esas cualidades/estado/acciones explicando por qué son buenos, por qué están en tu lista, o para qué te sirve. Una vez hayas hecho cuantas más conexiones mejor, relaciona todas tus cualidades y características con tus valores y principios. Este ejercicio es muy valioso, no tires tus notas y sigue trabajando en ellas toda tu vida, es importante saber quién eres, por qué y para qué. De hecho, es un ejercicio que recomiendo a cualquiera, una buena actividad para esas tardes de lluvia en familia. A lo largo del tiempo te servirá para entender tu crecimiento vital. 

Una vez tienes listo el “quién eres”, es el momento de pasar al fit. Para más información sobre esto del fit lee este artículo! Y es que en Hyll creemos que a la hora de encontrar una institución en la que vas a pasar los próximo cuatro años, el fit es CRUCIAL. Esperamos que a estas alturas tengas muy claro por qué cada una de las universidades de tu lista es un buen fit, pero si no es así: manos a la obra (sí, sé que he repetido cinco veces la palabra fit, pero es que, ¡no sabes lo importante que es!).

El verbo Gustar. Es difícil saber qué es lo que te preguntarán en esa entrevista para Princeton que tienes en tres días. No tan difícil es adivinar que una de las cosas que quieren saber es por qué te interesa Princeton y no Harvard o UCLA…pregunta complicada, ¿verdad? No te preocupes, probablemente no te hagan una pregunta tan directa, y si lo hacen, estoy segura que sabrás contestar educadamente, que “las quieres a las tres”, pero eso lo tendrás que demostrar. ¿Y cómo se demuestra que lo tuyo por Princeton es “amor verdadero”? Pues muy sencillo: sabiéndolo TODO sobre Princeton y sabiendo que de Princeton te gusta TODO (vale, igual no todo te gusta and that’s OK!). Es un poco como esa canción de Manu Chao “Me gustas tú” que tanto usaba yo para enseñar los verbos afectivos (es decir en los que tú eres un objeto “afectado” por el sujeto, que no es otro que Princeton!). Así que, ¡a trabajar! Busca información relevante a tu “ser y estar” y haz una lista que conecta tus cualidades (me gustan las montañas, me gustas tú), estados (me gusta ser competitivo, me gustas tú) y acciones (me gusta trabajar duro, me gustas tú). ¿Te haces una idea, verdad? Recuerda dar buenos ejemplos, que se note que has hecho tus deberes: “me interesa la ingeniería y trabajar con Prof. McHill en su proyecto sobre mares sostenibles”, “he hablado con el club de robótica y estoy deseando formar parte del mismo porque me entusiasman los robos y me gustaría diseñar uno que me ayude a doblar la ropa”, “me encantan los residential colleges, me encantaría vivir en Yeh”. Lo bueno de este ejercicio (al igual que el anterior) es que si lo haces con cuidado, no sólo te servirá para hacer una excelente entrevista (y de paso repasar los afectivos), sino para entender si Princeton (or any given university) es verdaderamente un buen fit para ti o no. 

Si no lo es, run away! Si te aceptan serás infeliz, te lo aseguro. 

Sujeto activo: Tú. Pero el fit es como el amor verdadero, tiene que ser correspondido. Quizás este sea el aspecto más importante cuando se está buscando una universidad. Te diría que esta vez, tú eres el “sujeto”, es decir “la parte de la oración que realiza la acción” y el “predicado” es lo que tú vas a  hacer en la universidad (ahh, qué bonita es la sintaxis, ¡mi amor verdadero!). Por ello, ahora te toca trazar una ruta que une tus cualidades, valores, intereses y objetivos con las acciones específicas que vas a llevar a cabo en la universidad en cuestión. Debes ser asertivo y tener claro que tú sí puedes make a difference in X College. Ante todo debes demostrar que tienes un claro plan de acción:

• ¿A qué iniciativas quieres unirte?
• ¿Qué tipo de student organizations te interesan?
• ¿Con qué profesores quieres trabajar?
• ¿Qué proyectos te interesan dentro de tu área de estudio?
• ¿Que ideas tienes para mejorar y enriquecer a la comunidad?
• ¿Qué vas a hacer para crear un buen ambiente con tus compañeros?

En esta parte necesitas seguridad y creer en ti mismo (además de hacer un buen research). Has llegado lejos, te has esforzado, escrito decenas de ensayos, trabajado en múltiples proyectos, este es tu momento para brillar y mostrar tus ambiciones y objetivos vitales. No tengas miedo, muéstrales por qué eres el mejor, es lo que están buscando. 

Para terminar, recuerda que esta entrevista es un ejercicio de comunicación interpersonal, así que no te olvides de preparar una pequeña lista de preguntas para tu entrevistador (¡no sólo vas a hablar tú!. Desde la típica ¿qué es lo que más te gusta sobre ZXC University? hasta las más subjetivas relacionadas con tus intereses personales, siempre SIEMPRE hay que preguntar ya que es otra manera de mostrar que tu interés es genuino. 

A este punto, lo único que te hará falta es un buen meeting set-up (buena iluminación y posición de la pantalla) y muchas ganas de disfrutar. 

In bocca al lupo!
Break a leg!
Suerte!

Or, Reflections on Choosing a College Consultant

“Which schools have you gotten your students into?”

It’s a question that we’re frequently asked. Yet the question is misleading and belies what a college consultant actually does. We work hard—and often late at night, thanks to time differences—to help our students highlight to universities just how exceptional they are so that they receive offers of admission at universities where they will thrive.

But the fact is, we don’t get them in. We help them get themselves in. (And yes, we know you want to know where they got themselves in. We get it—here’s a list!)

Perhaps my misgivings about this phrase are nothing more than a bit of semantic nitpicking. Even if so, one of the first things a prospective client should understand about us is that our job is to mentor students.

Incidentally, this is perhaps one of the biggest differences between an IEC (independent educational consultant) and a recruiting agency. Agencies are compensated by universities for placements, and while (like IECs) agencies often assist students in the application process, their business model essentially requires them to prioritize profit over student growth. IECs like us, however, don’t just work with students and families: we work for them.

Yet there’s far more to it than that: we are educators. Hyll consultants boast many years working in mentorship roles at some of the world’s most prestigious universities, Harvard chief among them. And we bring all that professional experience to bear in working with students, because one of our principal concerns is fostering the growth of our students and helping them come into their own. And by doing so, not only is the process rewarding in its own right, students’ growth also makes them far more competitive in the application process.

Stated another way, we help students find themselves, to strive for excellence both within the classroom and elsewhere, and to demonstrate it to colleges and universities in the most compelling ways possible. We also help match them to the universities best suited to their unique strengths and talents—which are different for everyone. And this last point deserves further exploration.

Not all teenagers thrive in high school, and no one should be judged on the merits—or lack thereof—of their most fraught moments or their weakest subjects. We thus accept clients without regard for superficial measures—like grades and test scores—of their admissions potential. Indeed, if anything matters in this process, it is motivation.

We take great pride in recognizing all students’ potential to be extraordinary and helping them develop it in ways that are both personally enriching and increase their probability of being admitted to great schools. This leads me to another important point: there really are no great schools, only great schools for you. At Hyll, we recognize the potential in all our students to do great things but also work hard to meet students where they are and match them with universities that are a great fit for them. That means building a well-balanced college list—that is, one with a healthy balance of realism and aspiration—based on students’ unique profiles (including their goals, their talents, their geographical preferences, and dozens of other criteria) and historical admissions data. 

Of all the qualities that most matter in a consultant, however, nothing could be more important than their mentoring experience. Any consultant should have substantial experience working with, understanding, and developing a rapport with students. Indeed, the success of the consulting relationship demands it. Like Virgil guiding Dante through the Inferno, our job as consultants is to chaperone students through one of the most arduous moments of their lives thus far. I’m not saying that the college application process is like a treacherous descent through the subterranean landscapes of Hell, but, well, let’s just say it has its moments!

The soul searching involved in preparing for college, making weighty decisions about the future, and writing application essays peppered with reflections of an intimately personal nature involves traversing unexplored, emotionally fraught territory. This can only occur when the relationship between student and consultant is properly nurtured—through empathy, compassion, and (let’s face it) plenty of friendly nudging—by a professional with experience understanding and supporting students’ lived experience.

A Reflection on Everything, Everywhere, All at Once and the College Essay

SPOILER ALERT: This post contains spoilers for Everything, Everywhere, All at Once (2022), so if you haven’t yet seen it, see it (it’s a masterpiece!) and then come back.

In one of the alternate realities that Evelyn Quan (played by the always impressive Michelle Yeoh) experiences after a Matrix-style awakening to the existence of an infinitude of alternative timelines, humans have hotdogs instead of fingers. As it phantasmagorically explores hundreds of these would-be historical divergences, Everything, Everywhere, All at Once (henceforth EEAAO) will revisit what I shall hereby dub “the weinerverse” numerous times. The scenes are nothing if not unique, memorable, and perhaps a little bit disturbing, though without ever being offensive. Indeed, while there is something viscerally off-putting about watching them, I’ve found them to be by far the film’s most indelible images.

So it is with this rather grotesque image of hotdog fingers that I want to share some thoughts: not on the film—though it will serve as an important touchpoint for this reflection—but on college essays. As I write this, college essay season has recently come to a close, undoubtedly to the great relief of students everywhere (incidentally, we college consultants are also relieved to bid farewell to essays for a while—much as we love them, like Christmas carols, they are delightful until they are not). One of the greatest challenges students face when writing college essays is that of embracing specificity, a subject I also address in this post. That’s no surprise, really, because writing down to the most minute detail is much harder than maintaining a comfortable, airy bird’s-eye view. The difficulty increases because in college essays, we are almost invariably writing about our own experiences, and doing so in detail depends on having an airtight memory that doesn’t come naturally to everyone (which is why we encourage our students to journal!).

Detail is what brings stories to life. It’s what makes the difference between eyes glazed with boredom and eyes glistening with tears of joy or despair. The genius of Everything, Everywhere, All at Once lies in the mind-boggling imagination that went into it (although as its many Oscar nominations will attest, the acting and direction are also first-rate!). I do not intend to dwell excessively on the image of hotdog fingers, but I do wish to point out that the very uniqueness of the idea, however odd, is what makes it so memorable, and making you—the candidate—memorable, is among the college essay’s most important tasks. This is why I often tell students to make room in the brainstorming process for their quirkiest idiosyncrasies, their most outlandish thoughts, and their most bizarre fantasies. While not all of these will be appropriate for inclusion in college essays, it is at the very fringes of our consciousness, identity, and lived reality that some of the best—that is, the most original—ideas are to be found. Indeed, it is important to remember that brainstorming, at its best, is a process of indiscriminate inclusion during which discernment, decision-making, and deletion have no place. During this process, you must have the courage to usher ideas as thoroughly ludicrous as hotdog fingers onto the page; that is, to accept absurdity as your most valuable form of capital. I can only imagine the brainstorming that went into EEAAO. Which ideas were left on the cutting room floor after it was decided that hotdog fingers unquestionably deserved inclusion? And yet it works.

Once you’ve engaged in a brainstorming process that is truly inclusive, only then can you start to winnow down to the most meritorious ideas. The first ideas to go should be the clichés. Because if the best ideas are often found at the fringes of our experience, it is equally true that ideas at the center of our lived experience tend to overlap with those of others and are thus least interesting. Recognizing cliché can be a particularly difficult operation for a seventeen-year-old, since knowing which ideas are categorically overused depends on the sort of abundant exposure that tends to come with age. So for those high schoolers reading, don’t be afraid to ask the trusted adults in your life (teachers, parents, school counselors or «ahem» college consultants) to share their honest opinions about which ideas should be dropped altogether because they’ve been done to death. But to give you an idea, here are some of the more cliché essay ideas that I’ve told students (many students!) to discard:

• I was getting a C in math, but then I worked really hard and brought my grade up to an A. Yawn! With all due respect to the doubtless considerable effort you had to put in, this sort of experience is highly common among high school students. Forget it.
• I broke my leg and had to quit the lacrosse (or hockey, or quidditch, etc.) team, but after months of iron-pumping physical therapy, I returned and won the big game. Nope. Not only do many high school students play sports, many athletes get injured. It’s certainly sad, and let’s face it—sometimes even traumatic—but that doesn’t make it interesting.
• My romantic partner broke up with me but now I’m stronger. Quite frankly, breakups are the worst… essay topics. It’s a story as old as time—and one that most people will experience more than once in their lives. A variation on this is the essay about parents’ divorce: an experience that can be highly traumatic for a teenager but one that is also quite commonplace.

You get the idea—but there is one caveat. As Willa Cather famously wrote: “There are only two or three human stories, and they go on repeating themselves as fiercely as if they had never happened before.” That is to say, much as we must make every effort to avoid cliché, there is an extent to which it cannot be entirely avoided. The only time an essay about a cliché is ever appropriate is when you have an entirely unique take on the experience. EEAAO is, in fact, a case in point, because the premise of the film is anything but original. Indeed, the scene when Evelyn is told that she can either “turn left towards [her] scheduled audit appointment” or “turn right and go into the janitor’s closet” to determine her fate is highly reminiscent of the famous red-pill/blue-pill scene from the Matrix… which borrows from Alice in Wonderland… which is in turn inspired by Plato, who probably stole it from some long forgotten Sumerian poet. You get the picture. And yet, EEAAO’s take on the idea of multiple realities is so staggeringly original that none of that really matters. There are exceptions to every rule.

Speaking of exceptions, I’d like to share a word on the importance of honesty in the essay-writing process. Essay writing is creative nonfiction. That doesn’t mean you should lie—indeed lying anywhere on your application can have disastrous consequences (up to and including the rescission of admissions offers!). However there is a difference between lying and painting details that are true to the spirit of events. On the night you narrowly escaped death, you may not remember how the air smelled, the name of the song playing on the radio, or the exact words your best friend said to you the last time you saw her. Yet it is just these sorts of details that bring an essay to life for a reader, that allow them to live the experience alongside you as a passenger in the journey through your memory. It doesn’t matter if the air smelled like Douglas fir and you write that you remember the distinct fragrance of hibiscus, or if the song on the radio was Blinding Lights but you write that it was Save Your Tears, or that your best friend said, “See you tomorrow” and you write that she said “Au revoir!” Of course, if you say you narrowly escaped death and, in reality, you didn’t—that would certainly be a lie. But short of that, including details that you may not necessarily remember with accuracy makes your essay memorable, and memorable is what every good essay must be.

Returning to Everything, Everywhere, All at Once, there is a scene (around 1:39:04 for you cinephiles) in which we receive a rapid-fire barrage of images from dozens of Evelyn’s multiverses (one YouTuber captured them all here). Although in the original film, each of these shots lasts only a fraction of a second, they are each imbued with exquisite detail that helps the film make its point, and this brings me to my final point. Great details need not occupy substantial space. The number one complaint I hear from students when I insist that they give me more detail is that doing so will put them over the word count. Nonsense. Compelling details need not be wordy, but they can make all the difference. Like the difference between a story of a laundromat owner under tax audit, and one that gives way to multiverses where hotdog-fingered star-crossed lovers play piano duets with their toes.

Like I said: it’s weird, but unforgettable.

NOTE: This article first appeared on the website of our colleagues at Distinctive College Consulting.