Devon Blog

Category: pathways

  • 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.

  • Turning My Passion for Activism Into a Compelling Application

    By Maya Torres (Not her real name), Future Political Science Major

    When I started preparing my college applications, I had no idea how to turn my passion for activism into something that would set me apart from the countless other applicants vying for the same spot. I knew I had a strong commitment to making the world a better place, but how could I communicate that on paper? How could I show admissions officers that my activism wasn’t just a passing interest, but a deeply ingrained part of who I was?

    I am Maya Torres, and what I realized during my application process was that the most important thing I could do was to frame my activism in a way that highlighted both my impact and personal growth. Whether I was protesting for environmental justice or leading discussions about social justice in my community, these experiences gave me the chance to craft a narrative that was truly my own.

    From Small Local Actions to a Bigger Vision

    For most of my life, activism was something that started in my neighborhood. I grew up in a working-class, predominantly Hispanic community in Texas, where the issues we faced — from access to healthcare to clean drinking water — were things I’d seen up close and personal. I wasn’t just passionate about these issues because they were relevant to me as a student; I was passionate because they were directly affecting people I loved.

    But my journey into activism didn’t start with large-scale movements or protests. It started with small, localized actions. I worked with a local environmental group, organizing beach cleanups and educational workshops for elementary school students. These were the kinds of activities I loved to be a part of, but I struggled to see how these experiences could stand out in my college application. That is, until I began talking to a peer advisor (who asked me to call him Omar, though that’s not his real name), who helped me figure out how to connect my personal growth with the work I had been doing.

    Omar pointed out that what colleges were looking for wasn’t just a checklist of activities or a collection of causes I cared about. They wanted to see how these experiences had shaped me. That was the turning point for me.

    Finding My Voice and Making an Impact

    Once I started looking at my activism from this perspective, I realized that each campaign I had worked on, whether for environmental justice or against racial discrimination, had helped me develop essential leadership and communication skills. I had learned how to organize events, work with diverse teams, and communicate messages to people with varying levels of understanding. But more importantly, I had found my voice — not just as an advocate, but as a leader.

    One of the most pivotal moments came when I organized a community meeting about the dangers of pollution in our area. I wasn’t just leading a discussion; I was rallying people to act. I helped them understand the science behind the issue, and together we launched a letter-writing campaign to city officials demanding better regulations. The results were powerful. We succeeded in securing funding for a new waste management program, and I learned how to effectively mobilize others around a common goal.

    When I sat down to write my personal statement, I used this experience as the core of my narrative. Instead of just describing the project, I focused on how it had transformed me. I wrote about how I had started as an unsure teenager, unsure of how to engage with my community, and how through activism, I had found a way to not only speak up but also lead others. This was the key to turning my activism into a compelling application.

    Connecting Passion with Purpose

    One thing that I found especially important was linking my passion for activism to my future academic and career goals. I knew that pursuing a political science degree would allow me to continue advocating for change on a broader scale. I made sure to connect the lessons I had learned in my community work to my long-term aspirations — to be a leader in social justice, public policy, and environmental advocacy.

    My application also reflected my desire to further refine the skills I had developed through activism, such as policy analysis, public speaking, and coalition-building. I demonstrated how these were not just passions of mine but essential tools I would need to make a lasting impact in society.

    I also made sure to highlight the diversity of my activism. While many applicants might focus on a singular cause, I wanted to show that I was versatile in my activism. From climate change protests to volunteering with immigrants’ rights groups, I had a breadth of experiences that proved I was adaptable and deeply invested in issues that impacted marginalized communities.

    The Role of My Peer Advisor

    I cannot overstate how much of an impact Omar (the peer advisor) had on my application. When I first started the process, I didn’t think my activism would be enough to make me stand out. But Omar showed me how to reframe my story. He taught me to look beyond the surface of my extracurricular activities and ask myself, “How have these experiences changed me? What have I learned? And how can I use this to create a vision for my future?”

    Omar also helped me refine my narrative. It wasn’t enough to just describe what I had done. I had to focus on why it mattered, how it shaped my worldview, and how it tied into the kind of student and leader I hoped to become. His guidance allowed me to present my passion for activism in a way that showcased my growth, leadership, and vision for the future.

    The Outcome: A College Application That Felt True to Me

    When I submitted my applications, I felt a sense of peace. I knew that I had told my story authentically. The process of turning my activism into a compelling narrative didn’t just help me get into the college of my dreams — it also helped me realize that my passion for advocacy wasn’t just a college application strategy; it was my purpose. It was a way of life, and it would continue to shape me throughout my academic journey and beyond.

    So, to anyone out there wondering how to make their passion for activism stand out in their college application, remember: It’s not just about what you do — it’s about what you learn from it and how you share that with others. Let your story reflect your growth and your vision, and above all, let it show who you are at your core.

  • STEM, Startups, and Summer Programs: Crafting a Story That Stands Out

    By Michael Tran, Future Engineering Major

    Applying to college as a high school student is never easy, but for those of us passionate about STEM, there’s an extra layer of complexity. You’re not just trying to stand out academically — you’re trying to show your future school that you’re capable of contributing to cutting-edge technology, solving real-world problems, and driving innovation. And when it comes to crafting an application that stands out, nothing can be more impactful than real-world experience. For me, that meant diving into summer programs and internships with startups.

    Here’s how my summer experiences shaped my application and helped me tell a story that made me stand out to admissions committees.

    The Power of Hands-On Experience

    It’s one thing to take advanced math or science courses in school, but it’s another to apply those concepts in the real world. Early on in my high school career, I knew I wanted to study something like engineering or computer science, but I wasn’t sure how to show that interest in a way that would catch the eye of admissions officers.

    That’s when I stumbled upon a summer program at a local tech startup. It wasn’t a prestigious program, and it didn’t offer college credit or certifications. But what it did offer was invaluable — real experience. I spent six weeks helping a small team of engineers design a new app interface. I was learning firsthand about the intersection of technology and user experience, and that experience helped me develop a much deeper understanding of the field.

    Working in a startup also exposed me to the daily challenges that entrepreneurs face. I was able to see how quickly things could change, how flexibility and problem-solving were crucial in an environment where there was no room for complacency.

    Making My Summer Program Work for My Application

    When it came time to write my college essays, I realized I could turn that summer internship experience into a compelling story. But it wasn’t just about listing the technical skills I had learned — it was about showcasing how that summer program had shaped me as an individual.

    I wrote about how I entered the program as a student interested in tech but unsure of what that looked like in a professional context. By the end of the summer, I had developed new skills, learned how to work in a fast-paced team, and found new ways to solve problems under pressure. But most importantly, I was able to highlight how the program confirmed my desire to pursue a STEM field.

    When crafting the narrative for my personal statement, I didn’t focus solely on the technical aspects. Instead, I framed the story around growth — how I went from being a student in a classroom, learning theory, to someone who could apply that theory to create something real. That transition from theory to practice became the backbone of my essay.

    The Importance of Storytelling

    What I learned is that the key to a strong application is not just listing accomplishments but telling a story that connects those accomplishments to your larger goals. For example, I didn’t just talk about how I helped design an app interface. I explained how that experience sparked my passion for engineering and cemented my desire to work at the intersection of technology and user experience. I also described how I wanted to bring that hands-on, problem-solving mindset to my college studies and beyond.

    I also worked to connect my summer program experience to my future aspirations. I didn’t want to just be another applicant with a “cool summer internship” — I wanted my admissions officers to see that this was a stepping stone on my path to becoming an engineer who could create tech that improves lives. That meant emphasizing how the startup experience pushed me to think creatively, to collaborate effectively, and to approach challenges with an entrepreneurial mindset.

    Why STEM Students Need Startup Experience

    In my experience, startup internships and summer programs aren’t just great for building technical skills; they also give you an opportunity to learn how to fail and how to learn from those failures. Startups are all about rapid iteration and testing new ideas. It’s common to try something that doesn’t work, learn from it, and pivot. That’s a valuable lesson for anyone entering a STEM field, where failure is often the first step toward success.

    Plus, working in a startup allowed me to see the true scope of innovation. A single idea could transform into a product that would eventually reach hundreds, if not thousands, of people. This scale of impact was eye-opening and gave me a deeper sense of purpose in pursuing STEM.

    Don’t Forget the Soft Skills

    While it’s important to showcase your technical abilities, I also realized that startup environments test and develop your soft skills — collaboration, communication, leadership, and problem-solving. I made sure to highlight these in my application, as they are often overlooked by students focused on technical accomplishments alone.

    In my application, I discussed how working in a small team required clear communication and how I learned to take initiative, sometimes stepping up to lead a task or brainstorm a solution. These experiences helped me grow both as a student and as a person, and I made sure that came across in my personal statement.

    The Outcome: From Passion to Purpose

    When I finally received my college acceptance letter, it felt like the culmination of everything I had worked for. But what truly made me proud was that my summer program experiences had played a major role in shaping who I was as an applicant. I had demonstrated not only my passion for STEM but also my ability to apply what I learned, my commitment to personal growth, and my willingness to challenge myself.

    As I prepare to start my college journey, I know that the experiences I had in those summer programs and internships will continue to shape my future career. The most important lesson I learned throughout the process is that no experience, no matter how small, is insignificant when it comes to telling your story. By taking part in those programs, I didn’t just gain knowledge — I gained a story that is uniquely mine.