Devon Blog

Author: devon

  • What I Thought U.S. Colleges Wanted—And What They Actually Did

    By Anjuna S. (not her real name), Undergraduate at a Midwestern University

    I still remember the first time I sat down to start my college application for a U.S. school. It was overwhelming. I’d heard stories of students from India applying to top universities like Harvard and Stanford, and I was eager to follow in their footsteps. But the more I read about the process—the essays, the interviews, the recommendations—the more confused I became. What did these colleges actually want from me?

    I assumed that if I had high test scores and a solid academic record, that would be enough. I believed that being a hard worker, excelling in math and science, and following a predictable path through school would impress admissions officers. After all, I’d always been told that academic success is what matters most. I had been taught that achievements like winning state science fairs, attending math camps, and acing exams were the hallmarks of success, and I believed that these would be the keys to my future.

    But that’s not what U.S. colleges actually wanted.

    When I connected with my peer advisor, Sasha (not her real name), a sophomore at an Ivy League school in the U.S., she helped me see things from a new perspective. Sasha, who was originally from Brazil, had gone through the process just a year before me, and she knew the difference between what I thought was important and what U.S. colleges really look for. It wasn’t just about good grades or high scores—it was about the full picture of who I was and what I would bring to their campuses.

    Sasha explained something I’d never heard before: that U.S. colleges were looking for students who showed initiative, creativity, and passion—regardless of whether that passion was in academics, art, or community service. She told me that colleges wanted to know about my journey, the challenges I’d faced, and how I had overcome them, rather than just hearing about my academic achievements.

    For example, in my application, I had focused on my high academic standing and my success in math competitions. But what I hadn’t focused on was the fact that I had spent the past two years volunteering at a local NGO teaching computer skills to underprivileged children. I had brushed this off as a side project that didn’t carry much weight compared to my academic accomplishments. Sasha helped me realize that this volunteer work was actually an incredible part of my story. It showed that I was not only a dedicated student but also someone who cared about making a positive impact in my community.

    With her help, I restructured my essays to reflect who I truly was. I wrote about how volunteering had transformed my perspective on education and what it meant to have access to resources that others lacked. I also shared how this experience had sparked my interest in pursuing a degree in computer science, and how I wanted to create programs that would help bridge the gap between technology and underserved communities.

    Sasha also gave me a valuable tip on the interviews. I thought the interview was another opportunity to impress the admissions officers with my grades and achievements. But Sasha explained that they were really trying to see how I would contribute to the campus culture and how I would fit into their diverse student body. She encouraged me to focus on how I could make a difference on campus, sharing specific ideas of clubs or projects I wanted to pursue. This was a complete shift in mindset for me—I’d been so focused on proving I was “good enough” that I hadn’t thought about how I could contribute.

    When it came time for financial aid, that was another hurdle I didn’t understand. I assumed that as an international student, I wouldn’t qualify for aid at all, as many of my friends from India had been told that it was either unavailable or incredibly competitive. But Sasha encouraged me to look deeper, pointing out that many universities offer need-based or merit-based aid for international students, and that I shouldn’t assume I was ineligible without giving it a try. With her guidance, I applied for scholarships and financial aid, and much to my surprise, I was awarded a meaningful scholarship that made my dream of attending college in the U.S. financially feasible.

    The results? I was accepted into three schools, two of which offered me substantial financial aid packages. One of those schools was exactly where I had envisioned myself—the Ivy League school where Sasha was studying.

    Looking back, I realize how much I had misunderstood about what U.S. colleges wanted. I thought it was all about grades, standardized tests, and following a specific academic path. But in reality, it was about so much more. It was about passion, initiative, and the ability to contribute to a diverse and dynamic campus. It was about telling a story that was uniquely mine, and finding ways to communicate that in a way that resonated with the admissions team.

    Thanks to Sasha’s peer advising, I learned to see the application process through a different lens. I understood that U.S. colleges were not just looking for the best students on paper, but the students who would bring fresh perspectives, creative ideas, and a sense of purpose to their communities. And with that, I found the confidence to tell my story in a way that truly reflected who I was.

    In the end, I didn’t just get into college—I got into a place where I felt like I truly belonged, with a story that felt authentic to me. And I’ll always be grateful to Sasha for helping me understand that my worth wasn’t just in my grades, but in the way I saw the world and how I wanted to change it.

  • Why I Chose a Peer Advisor Who’d Been Through It Abroad

    By Aisha K. (not her real name), Undergraduate Student from Nigeria

    The decision to apply to schools in the U.S. wasn’t mine alone. My uncle, who had attended graduate school in Chicago, always encouraged me to think beyond Nigeria’s borders. But the application process? It felt completely foreign.

    I was attending a public secondary school where teachers were stretched thin and had limited knowledge of U.S. college admissions. To be honest, I didn’t even know where to start. Everything about the process—college essays, recommendation letters, financial aid—felt like a tangled web.

    That’s when I found peer advising. I connected with Chris (not his real name), a student from Ghana who had just completed his first year at a liberal arts college in New England. Chris wasn’t just knowledgeable about the U.S. system—he understood my unique perspective. His background made him an ideal fit for guiding me through the process.

    Chris understood the doubts that international students often face. We talked about whether I should mention my role in caring for my younger siblings, or if it would hurt my chances to admit that I hadn’t done an internship due to helping out at my family’s shop during school breaks. In Nigerian culture, we don’t always talk about our accomplishments. So, writing essays that centered around me was hard. Chris reassured me that my story mattered—how the responsibilities I had at home showcased my resilience and maturity, qualities that U.S. colleges highly value.

    More than anything, he emphasized the importance of showing my authentic self. We brainstormed ways to demonstrate my initiative—such as my involvement in local community development programs—and my dedication to my studies despite facing challenges. He helped me understand how these qualities aligned with the values American universities look for, helping me frame my experiences in a compelling way.

    One of the biggest hurdles I faced was the financial aid process. I knew that most American colleges didn’t offer financial aid to international students. What I didn’t know was that some did. Chris walked me through the financial aid application process step by step, even helping me request fee waivers. He pointed me toward schools that were generous with aid and more inclusive of international students. He also showed me which schools would offer merit-based scholarships, and which had more flexible policies for international students like me.

    I had no idea that there were colleges that would consider me not just as an academic candidate, but as someone who could contribute to the diversity of the student body in meaningful ways. Chris helped me realize that it wasn’t just about grades or test scores—it was about telling my story in a way that was true to who I was.

    When it came time for interviews, Chris role-played with me, helping me practice how to talk confidently about my experiences. Speaking about myself was awkward at first, but with Chris’s patient encouragement, I slowly began to feel more comfortable. The tips he shared about handling common interview questions made me feel prepared and empowered.

    Without Chris, I would have struggled to navigate all the complexities of the U.S. college application process. Peer advising made the difference in my approach. It didn’t just help me with the technicalities of the application, but it helped me build the confidence to believe I belonged in those universities, regardless of where I came from.

    The results spoke for themselves. I received offers from three top universities, one of which I was thought I was highly unlikely to get into. But the most valuable outcome was something more intangible: I learned how to tell my story in a way that felt authentic to me.

    Thanks to peer advising, I didn’t just apply to college—I applied with a sense of pride, knowing that my background and experiences were not barriers, but strengths. I was ready to step into a new world, not as an outsider, but as someone with a unique perspective to share.

  • Peer Mentorship Made My American Dream Make Sense

    By Rafael G. (not his real name), Student from Brazil

    Growing up in São Paulo, the idea of studying in the U.S. was more fantasy than plan. I knew a few people who had gone abroad, but I never imagined I could be one of them. I had great grades, sure, and I did well in math olympiads, but everything else—the essays, the SAT, the financial aid process—was a mystery.

    What made it harder was that I was raised not to brag. In Brazilian culture, we don’t usually talk openly about our accomplishments. So writing essays that centered me felt almost wrong.

    That’s where Mariana (not her real name), my peer mentor, came in. She was a student from Colombia attending a university in Florida. She had gone through the same process, including applying for aid as an international student. She knew the mental blocks I was facing.

    She helped me see that I could talk about my community work and my role in organizing neighborhood cleanups not as an afterthought, but as core to my identity. She guided me through the differences in cultural expectations, clarified the role of personal voice in American essays, and even helped me find programs that didn’t require the SAT due to COVID-era policies.

    She was also honest with me about the financial side. Many American schools don’t offer financial aid to international students—or they only offer merit scholarships, not need-based aid. Mariana helped me identify a shortlist of institutions that were both need-aware and generous. We built a strategy around applying to those. She even reviewed my CSS Profile and helped me avoid small errors that could have delayed my application.

    By the time I submitted my final applications, I felt like I understood the system—and more importantly, I understood myself better. When I got into two of my top-choice schools with financial aid packages that made it possible to attend, I called Mariana first. We cried on the phone together.

    My dream didn’t come true by accident. It came true because someone who had been in my shoes helped me see that it was possible—and walked beside me every step of the way.

  • I had Never Set Foot in America—But My Peer Coach Helped Me Feel at Home

    By Lian T. (not her real name), First-Year Student from Vietnam

    I still remember how surreal it felt when I first considered applying to a university in the United States. I had never visited. I didn’t have family there. All I knew about the U.S. came from Hollywood movies and the occasional online article. The application portals, essay prompts, and even the idea of “extracurriculars” felt foreign. My parents were supportive, but they had no idea what the Common App was, and neither did my high school teachers.

    That’s when I met Sophie (not her real name), a peer advisor studying at a liberal arts college in the Midwest. She was Korean American and had grown up in California, but she had worked with several international students before. Our first Zoom call lasted over an hour. She didn’t just explain deadlines or how to list activities; she asked about me. What I enjoyed. What I was proud of. Where I felt out of place.

    She helped me realize that my volunteer work teaching English to rural kids wasn’t just a kind thing I did—it was leadership. It was impact. That shift in mindset changed everything. Sophie didn’t just tell me what to write; she helped me understand why my story mattered.

    Through our sessions, I learned how to present myself authentically while still aligning with what American schools look for. We reviewed my essays, talked through my interview jitters, and even practiced how to email admissions officers (a thing I didn’t know students actually did!).

    When the acceptance letters came, I had choices. I chose a school that valued community, offered support for international students, and had the same warmth I felt from Sophie. I haven’t stepped foot on campus yet—visa delays are still real—but I already feel like I belong.

  • Finding My Edge When No One at Home Spoke English

    By Sofia R. (not her real name), First-Gen Student

    When I tell people I’m the first in my family to go to college, they nod politely, like they’ve heard that story before. But it’s different when your parents can’t read the emails you’re getting from your school counselor. When FAFSA is not just a confusing form, but an unfamiliar acronym in a language that’s not spoken in your home. When college isn’t just far—it feels like another country.

    My parents immigrated from El Salvador when I was six. My dad paints houses. My mom cleans offices at night. Both of them are brilliant in ways that don’t get degrees. But when I started thinking about college, I knew I was stepping into something none of us understood.

    That was scary. And lonely. Until I found someone who had lived it—and was just a few years ahead of me.

    “You Don’t Have to Do This Alone”

    I met Jasmine (not her real name), a peer advisor, at a college prep session my school hosted. She was a senior at a local university and the daughter of Vietnamese refugees. The first time we talked, I asked if her parents spoke English.

    She smiled and said, “Nope. And they still think FAFSA is a type of soup.”

    That’s when I knew I could trust her.

    Jasmine didn’t talk to me like a counselor. She talked to me like an older sister who’d already walked through the fog and could point out where the potholes were. She didn’t just help me with the “how” of college apps. She helped me understand that my story wasn’t a weakness. It was an edge.

    My Story Wasn’t a Liability. It Was My Strength.

    For a long time, I thought I had nothing to say in my personal statement. I hadn’t started a nonprofit or traveled the world. I just helped my little brother with homework while my mom slept after the night shift. I translated hospital bills. I filled out job applications for my dad. None of that felt “college essay” worthy.

    But Jasmine saw it differently.

    She asked me questions no one else had. “What have you had to figure out that most other kids haven’t?” “What kind of strength does that take?”

    She helped me realize I’d been problem-solving since I was nine. That I’d learned patience, precision, and grit—not from a textbook, but from life. And she showed me how to write that down without sounding like I was trying to make anyone feel sorry for me.

    She helped me sound like me—only more confident.

    The Questions I Didn’t Know I Could Ask

    There were so many things I was embarrassed to admit I didn’t know. What’s a liberal arts college? Do I need to take the SAT again? What’s the difference between early action and early decision?

    I didn’t want to waste my counselor’s time. But Jasmine kept reminding me, “Your questions are valid. Ask them all.”

    That made a huge difference. When I got my first acceptance letter, I didn’t cry because of the school’s name. I cried because I finally felt like I belonged somewhere.

    Paying It Forward

    I’m a sophomore in college now. I still call my parents every day and explain what midterms are. They still think dorm food is fancy. But they’re proud of me—and that means everything.

    I’ve started mentoring other first-gen students at my school. I tell them what Jasmine told me: You’re not behind. You’re not alone. And you’re not less capable just because no one in your house went to college before you.

    In fact, that might be exactly what makes you stand out.

  • Helping Students From Underrepresented Backgrounds Means Listening First

    By Carla J. (not her real name), College Coach

    I’ve worked with students from all walks of life, but the ones who stay with me the longest are the ones who didn’t think they belonged in the college admissions process at all.

    I remember one of my earliest students, Marcus (not his real name), a soft-spoken high school senior from rural Georgia who had a GPA most counselors would cheer for. But every time we talked about colleges, he looked away. When I finally asked him why he seemed so hesitant, he shrugged and said, “People like me don’t go to schools like that.”

    That’s when I knew my job wasn’t just to coach applications. It was to help students rewrite the narrative they’d been handed.

    The Weight of Being “First”

    Many of the students I support are the first in their family to apply to college. Some are first-generation Americans, navigating two cultures. Others come from communities where education hasn’t always been a visible path to opportunity. For all of them, the weight of being “first” can feel more like pressure than pride.

    I’ve learned that the first few sessions aren’t about essays or Common App strategies. They’re about trust. About learning how a student sees themselves. What they’ve been told they can—or can’t—achieve. The gap between ambition and belief is where most of the work happens.

    Coaching Is Not Correcting

    I once worked with a student named Aaliyah (not her real name), whose personal statement draft was a raw, honest story about growing up in public housing and caring for her younger siblings while her mom worked night shifts. She told me she wasn’t sure if it was “too much” or if colleges would think she was just trying to get pity points.

    I told her what I tell every student: Your story is your strength.

    Too often, students from underrepresented backgrounds try to erase the very things that make them compelling. They’re told to “polish” their narratives—to sound more like someone else. But my job isn’t to help them sound more like a college student. It’s to help them see that they already are one.

    Seeing What’s Possible

    It’s not enough to say “you belong.” I show students examples of others who walked similar paths. A DACA recipient now thriving at a top public university. A Somali-American girl who turned her love for coding into a summer internship and later a full ride. A trans student who wrote about building a safe space at their high school and now studies gender studies and political science.

    Representation isn’t a buzzword—it’s a blueprint.

    Small Wins, Big Shifts

    Sometimes, the breakthrough isn’t getting into a top-tier school. Sometimes it’s just getting a student to believe they deserve to apply. To ask for a letter of recommendation without apology. To talk about their achievements without minimizing them.

    I had a student last year, a Pacific Islander girl named Lina (not her real name), who used to preface every idea with “I don’t know if this is good, but…” By the end of our time together, she sent her final essay with a single sentence: “I’m proud of this.”

    That’s the win I live for.

    What I’ve Learned

    If there’s one thing I wish every parent, counselor, and admissions officer could see, it’s this: the students we think of as “underserved” are often the most resourceful, insightful, and emotionally intelligent young people in the room.

    They’ve had to be.

    And when they have someone who listens first, who affirms their stories instead of editing them out, they step into their power. Not just in their applications—but in their lives.

  • How We Used Peer Advising to Reduce the Stress of College Apps

    By Ricardo M. (not his real name), Parent of a High School Senior

    If you had told me two years ago that a college student would be the person to bring calm into our home during application season, I would’ve laughed. Not because I doubted their ability, but because the entire college process felt too big, too intense, and too unpredictable for anyone to simplify—let alone someone still in college themselves.

    But that’s exactly what happened. And I’m here to tell you it worked better than anything else we tried.

    The Stress Was Real—For All of Us

    My daughter, Paloma (not her real name), is our oldest. Neither my wife nor I went to college in the U.S., and we both work long hours. Between school, volunteering, a part-time job, and college applications, Paloma was carrying an invisible weight every day. We tried to help—reading essay drafts after dinner, looking up scholarships on weekends—but more often than not, our efforts just seemed to raise the tension.

    What we didn’t understand back then is that we weren’t just trying to manage logistics. We were trying to manage emotions—hers and ours.

    Enter a Peer Advisor

    It started with a casual online info session. A friend of Paloma’s had met with a student advisor and said it really helped, so we gave it a shot. We scheduled a meeting with a peer advisor named Alexis (not her real name), a junior studying Sociology and African American Studies at a college in the Midwest.

    I expected a typical “here’s what you need to do” checklist. Instead, Alexis began with one question: “How are you feeling about all of this?”

    Paloma froze for a second. I don’t think anyone had asked her that yet.

    What followed was a conversation—not a lecture, not a session with a counselor, but a conversation between two people who had something in common: they’d both felt the pressure, the uncertainty, and the stakes of trying to get into college.

    What Changed

    Over the next few months, Alexis became a steady presence. They didn’t meet every week, but they checked in at key moments—when Paloma was brainstorming essay topics, when she got her first rejection, and when she was weighing which extracurriculars to highlight.

    What stood out wasn’t just Alexis’s knowledge, though she clearly knew the process inside and out. It was her empathy. She helped Paloma find her authentic voice, validate her experiences, and see her background—not just her test scores—as part of what made her application powerful.

    That reframing was huge. It helped Paloma stop trying to sound like someone else and instead tell her own story—with pride.

    The Ripple Effect at Home

    Once Paloma had someone she could talk to who truly understood the process from a student’s perspective, things changed at home too. She was more relaxed, more open with us, and even laughed again while writing an essay (that was a first). Our conversations became less about deadlines and more about her dreams.

    I started to realize that one of the best things I could do as a parent wasn’t to try and have all the answers—but to help her build the right support system.

    Looking Back

    College applications will never be stress-free. But they don’t have to be overwhelming. What peer advising gave our family was perspective, empathy, and a reminder that this isn’t just a process—it’s a transition. And transitions are easier when you have someone walking beside you, not just ahead of you.

    If you’re a parent wondering whether peer advising is worth exploring, I’ll say this: watching my daughter grow in confidence and calm over those few months was all the proof I needed.

  • Why I Trusted Another Student With My Son’s College Questions

    By Aisha L. (not her real name), Parent of a High School Junior

    I never thought I’d let someone just a few years older than my son guide him through something as important as college admissions. But here I am—grateful that I did.

    I come from a family that believes in adult guidance, professional expertise, and structured planning. As a nurse who worked her way through community college and nights shifts, I’ve always told my children, “Do your research, talk to the experts.” So when my son Malik (not his real name), a high school junior with big dreams and even bigger anxiety, started asking questions about applying to college, I assumed we’d talk to counselors, admissions officers, maybe hire a consultant.

    What I didn’t expect was that the turning point would come from a 20-year-old junior at a university I hadn’t even heard of until last year.

    The Questions I Couldn’t Answer

    Malik is smart, driven, but cautious. The kind of kid who reads every word of the Common App before filling in his name. He had questions—so many questions. Not just about deadlines or financial aid, but things I didn’t know how to answer, like:

    • “How do you talk about something painful in your essay without sounding like you’re trying to get pity?”
    • “What if I get in but don’t feel like I belong?”
    • “How do you even know what to major in when you haven’t tried anything yet?”

    I realized my advice, rooted in my own lived experience—apply, work hard, be grateful—wasn’t enough for the world he was stepping into.

    Then We Found Jordan

    Jordan (not his real name) is a peer advisor—though he never introduced himself that way. He just said, “Hey, I’m a first-gen student too. I remember having the same questions.” That’s all it took. They clicked instantly.

    What made Jordan different wasn’t his knowledge of application deadlines or the jargon (though he knew that too). It was that he remembered. He remembered what it felt like to sit in a room full of more confident kids, to hear about “early action” and “demonstrated interest” for the first time, to wonder whether talking about growing up in a multigenerational household would make him sound “too different.”

    That memory—that closeness to the experience—made him someone my son could actually open up to.

    More Than Just Logistics

    Jordan didn’t just answer Malik’s questions. He asked his own. “What’s the class you took that surprised you the most?” “Who do you help at home when you’re not doing schoolwork?” “What’s a time you felt really proud of yourself and didn’t tell anyone?”

    These weren’t filler questions. They were the keys to Malik’s story.

    One day after their session, Malik handed me a printout of a draft essay. It was about tutoring his cousin in math and what that taught him about patience and confidence. He’d never talked to me about that before. I read it and had to blink back tears.

    Jordan didn’t just help Malik write a better essay. He helped him see himself.

    Why I Trusted Him

    If you’d asked me a year ago whether I’d let a college student mentor my son through this process, I would’ve said, “Maybe as a supplement.” Now, I think it’s essential.

    What Jordan gave my son wasn’t a strategy or a shortcut—it was trust, camaraderie, and proof that someone like him could succeed. That peer-to-peer connection filled a gap that adults couldn’t. Because no matter how many degrees or years of experience we may have, sometimes what a teenager really needs is to hear: “I’ve been there. You’re not alone.”

    And that’s why I trusted him. Not because he had all the answers, but because he remembered the questions.

  • The Missing Link in Our College Prep Plan: A Peer Perspective

    By Marcus H. (not his real name), Parent of a High School Senior

    I thought we had everything covered.

    My daughter, Laila (not her real name), had been preparing for college since middle school. We had the grades, the SAT prep books, the volunteer hours, and a spreadsheet mapping deadlines for everything from FAFSA to supplemental essays. As a father, especially one who didn’t go through this system myself—my own education was pieced together in night classes while I worked—I wanted to make sure she had more than I did. I thought if we planned hard enough, we’d be ready.

    But about two months into senior year, I saw something I hadn’t planned for: Laila was stuck. Not just on logistics, but emotionally—creatively. She didn’t know how to tell her story. She didn’t feel like she had one worth telling.

    She’d write three lines and erase them. “Everything sounds fake,” she told me one night, defeated. “Like I’m just writing what they want to hear.”

    I didn’t know how to help. And that’s when we discovered something we hadn’t factored into our plan: the peer perspective.

    Why Peer Coaching Changed Everything

    Laila was paired with a college sophomore named Diego (not his real name), a first-gen student from El Paso who had once been exactly where she was. Diego wasn’t a counselor. He wasn’t some adult giving lofty advice about finding your “authentic voice.” He was just a guy who had recently written essays, filled out forms, and lived through the stress of decision letters and second-guessing.

    From their first conversation, something shifted. Diego asked questions that didn’t sound like school:
    “What made you choose the environmental club over all the others?”
    “When you talk about your brother, what’s something you’ve never put in writing before?”
    “Is there something you stopped doing that you miss?”

    He didn’t critique her. He listened. And she responded. For the first time, Laila didn’t feel like she was being interviewed. She felt seen.

    More Than Just Essay Help

    Diego helped Laila unpack her story—how growing up in a mixed-heritage home (Black and Filipina), how translating at parent-teacher conferences for her mom, how her curiosity about climate change started with picking up plastic bottles in the neighborhood park as a kid—wasn’t just background noise. It was the story.

    I listened outside the room during one of their sessions and heard something I hadn’t heard in weeks: laughter. Real laughter. They were talking about her part-time job at the aquarium and how her manager always made her feed the stingrays because no one else wanted to do it. That moment became the opening line of her Common App essay.

    “Before I ever spoke at a climate rally, I was hand-feeding stingrays in a tank behind a mall.”

    Who knew?

    What We Had Been Missing

    Looking back, we had counselors and teachers and a family support system. But what we didn’t have was someone close enough to the experience to make it feel possible. That’s what Diego brought.

    He didn’t just help her write. He gave her permission to be proud of who she was without translating it into bullet points. He reminded her that rejection happens even to the most qualified students—and it’s not a reflection of worth. He made her feel less alone.

    For a student like Laila—ambitious, unsure, deeply self-aware—the difference between generic advice and peer insight was like night and day.

    A Lesson for Other Parents

    Now that we’re on the other side of it—essays submitted, interviews done, acceptances arriving—I can say with confidence that the missing link in our college prep plan wasn’t more test prep or another club. It was empathy, relatability, and insight from someone who’d just walked that path.

    I wish we’d found peer coaching sooner. Not because it would’ve changed the outcome (though maybe it would have), but because it changed how my daughter saw herself in the process. She felt understood. She felt like her story mattered.

    In a process that too often feels transactional, peer mentorship brought the humanity back.

    If you’re a parent going through this journey with your teen, ask yourself: who’s helping your child not just prepare for college—but prepare to be heard?

    That’s the piece we almost missed. And now I can’t imagine this process without it.

  • Peer Coaching Made My Teen Feel Understood—and Inspired

    By Laura Kim (Not her real name), Parent of a High School Junior

    As a parent, one of my biggest challenges has always been understanding how best to support my teenager through the college application process. My daughter, Siti (not her real name), is a brilliant, driven high school junior with big dreams. But like many teens, she often found herself struggling with the pressure of grades, extracurriculars, and the looming question of “What’s next?”

    We are a Korean-American family, and while we emphasize hard work and academic achievement, it was always clear to me that Siti’s path wasn’t going to look the same as mine. Her interests were different, and she needed someone who truly understood her unique struggles and aspirations—someone who could guide her in a way that felt personal and meaningful. That’s when we found peer coaching, and it completely changed the way Siti saw herself and her potential.

    The Search for Guidance

    In the midst of all the application prep, I noticed Siti was becoming overwhelmed. She often felt isolated, as if no one truly understood the pressure she was facing. She would tell me, “Mom, you don’t get it. You were just focused on school and getting into college. But it’s different now. I don’t know where I fit in.”

    At first, I struggled with how to help her articulate her feelings. As much as I wanted to be there for her, I wasn’t sure how to guide her in this new world of college applications, where everything seemed to depend on an essay or a test score. That’s when I came across a peer coaching program, which paired students with mentors—other high schoolers who had recently gone through the application process themselves. The idea of having a peer who had walked in her shoes immediately appealed to me, and I encouraged Siti to give it a try.

    The Impact of Peer Coaching

    Siti was hesitant at first. Like many teenagers, she didn’t want to feel like she was asking for help. But when she connected with Leila (not her real name), a senior who had successfully navigated the college application process, things started to click. Leila, who is of Moroccan and French descent, had a story that resonated with Siti in ways I couldn’t have predicted. Both girls came from immigrant families and faced the added challenge of balancing cultural expectations with their own ambitions. Leila had been a first-generation college applicant herself, and her experiences gave her insights that my daughter could deeply relate to.

    Their coaching sessions became a safe space for Siti to open up. Leila not only helped Siti brainstorm ideas for her college essays but also talked her through the emotional rollercoaster of managing expectations, feeling unsure of her choices, and worrying about future rejection. The beauty of peer coaching is that it’s not just about practical advice; it’s about emotional support. Siti no longer felt alone in the process. Leila shared her own struggles and triumphs, and that gave Siti a sense of hope that she could do it, too.

    One of the most powerful moments came when Leila helped Siti see that her passion for community service wasn’t just a filler activity—it was the heart of her application. Leila helped Siti realize that her volunteer work at a local refugee center could be framed not only as an extracurricular but as a defining experience that reflected her character and future aspirations. This was a turning point for Siti, as she began to feel more confident in what she had to offer, beyond her grades and test scores.

    More Than Just College Prep

    As a parent, it was incredible to watch Siti grow not just in her college prep journey, but in her self-awareness. Peer coaching gave her the opportunity to talk openly with someone who understood the emotional and mental toll of the process. Leila didn’t just offer advice—she listened and provided validation, which is something my daughter couldn’t always find at home or in school. Siti began to develop her own voice, and her confidence soared as she realized that her story was unique, valuable, and worth telling.

    At the same time, I could see the positive impact peer coaching had on Leila, too. By helping Siti, Leila was able to reflect on her own experiences and solidify her own understanding of what college meant to her. Peer coaching wasn’t just a one-way mentorship; it was an exchange of ideas and experiences that enriched both sides.

    Why Peer Coaching Works

    What stood out to me about peer coaching is that it taps into something that’s often missing in traditional academic guidance: relatability. Coaches who have just gone through the same challenges are able to provide practical advice while also offering emotional support. They are closer to the age and mindset of the students they’re helping, making it easier for them to connect on a personal level.

    Peer coaches also help students gain a broader perspective. Siti came to understand that while her journey was unique, she wasn’t the only one struggling with uncertainty, imposter syndrome, or fear of failure. Leila reminded her that many of these feelings are normal, and that it’s okay not to have everything figured out. For Siti, this was invaluable.

    A Newfound Confidence

    By the time Siti completed her college applications, she felt more than ready. She had written her essays with a newfound sense of purpose, guided by Leila’s insights and support. Siti wasn’t just submitting a set of applications; she was presenting her authentic self. More importantly, she was no longer afraid to dream big.

    When we received the news that Siti had been accepted to her top-choice school, I couldn’t help but think back to those coaching sessions. Peer coaching hadn’t just helped Siti navigate the application process; it had given her the tools to believe in her own potential and own her story.

    If you have a teenager in the college application process, I can’t recommend peer coaching enough. It’s a process that’s about much more than essays and deadlines. It’s about understanding, support, and inspiration from someone who truly gets it. For Siti, it was the difference between feeling overwhelmed and feeling empowered.