Recently, Howard Schultz, the venerable CEO of coffee behemoth Starbucks, was asked about job characteristics he looks for when hiring. “First off, I want to know what you’re reading, and then I’ll ask you why,” he says. Hypothetically, if the potential new hire were to reply, “Well, Mr. Schultz, back in high school, I started the “T. Wolfe Pack Club: I was the founder, president, and only member (hint hint, I have read every Tom Wolfe novel)” and stopped right there, odds are that the interview would end momentarily.

Photo courtesy of ndupress from Flickr

The aforementioned parable, at its core, is an execution issue. Had the potential new hire continued to explain why he enjoys Wolfe novels and connected this passion with some related experience in the business world, he or she may have opened the door to a second round interview.

The same could be said for placing similar quirky yet potentially applicant-killer extracurricular activities in a college application. A few days ago, in The New York Times Education blog, “The Choice” Rebecca Ruiz shared some of the comments aggregated from the following open-ended question posted on CollegeCofindential.com: “Does your on-paper persona reflect your truest interests? Are there certain hobbies, passions or accomplishments you’ve excluded from your college application, feeling they’re not worthy or relevant?”

At its core, the decision of whether or not to include select extra curricular activities in an one’s college application is an execution issue as well. Interestingly enough, this exercise in creativity is not a fad. This is a trend that is here to stay. As discussed in a previous BetterGrads post, universities are giving their future first year class more creative freedom in their applications. In particular, Tufts gave students the option to submit YouTube videos covering a variety of topics (sample videos can be found here) last year.

However, as mentioned in a previous post, these videos present an ethical dilemma for many college admission departments. Similarly, listing quirky and intriguing extracurriculars that are completely unrelated to anything else in the student’s application with the hopes of piquing an admissions officer’s interest can do more harm than good for students looking to spice up their list of accomplishments.

Now, I am not advocating slamming the door shut on any attempts to showcase wit and outside-the-box thinking in an application (this is coming from a staff writer who discussed in one of his college essays how his passion for Legos as a child led to a wonderful volunteer experience building homes with Habitat for Humanity).

However, individuals who identify themselves as blatant resume fillers should proceed with caution. What do I mean by this? I’m sure you know of an individual who did the following: realized during the fall of senior year that there were no clubs or medals attached to his name, decided to start an [insert obscure sport or pop culture reference here] club, held one meeting, never organized a game, and listed in his college application that  he was the founder, and club president, for four years. Mr. and Mrs. Resume Filler, one day you will learn that titles and positions are meaningless, unless you have evidence of accomplishments or proof of the work you completed during your tenure in that position.

This happens to touch a larger ethical issue, which John Reid, who posted the following comment to the original NY Times blog post, cleverly points out:

But there is a larger problem in this conversation that most of the contributors have not mentioned: the idea of gaming the system. Again, this is common and comes in many forms, some borderline honest, and some clearly outrageous. This is the sad side of the college admissions scene today: the frenzy, the hunt for your own private hook, the gimmick, the need ultimately to win some prize called College X. What is the price to a student’s self-respect (not the same as their self-esteem, which will be rewarded by admission) if they play the game this way? Sure, they may never notice what they have done, but they have trivialized themselves. What kind of an introduction to the adventure of higher education is this? I respect students who keep the process in perspective and don’t lower themselves to this level. I don’t honestly think it help them to get cute, and I think it hurts them in another, more subtle way. It’s like fighting an election by defaming your opponent. It might work, but is it worth it? And is it good for the general welfare?

So, do I support creative extracurriculars in college applications? Absolutely, so long as they support a larger portion of the application. Again, this is a simple case of execution. However, I do not condone this practice of “gaming the system” and simply listing out-of-left-field activities as the silver bullet hoping to sway the admissions officer in his / her decision.

What’s your take? How did you handle listing quirky yet potentially intriguing extra curricular activities in your college application? Share your stories and thoughts below!

Recent features from The New York Times and US News & World Report college blogs reminded me of my own experience with the early decision option. Early decision typically means that the student submits the application in early to mid-autumn and hears back around early December. If admitted, the decision is binding.

By the time I applied to college, I had visited about a dozen campuses and seriously researched around thirty schools. I was heavily immersed in the admissions process and preparing to apply to several universities of varying degrees of competitiveness.

Shortly before beginning my senior year, my parents and I visited Barnard College and Vassar College. I loved both and knew that I would definitely apply to them as “reach” schools. Upon starting the school year, however, I learned that my classmates were submitting early decision applications in record numbers. Some sort of group panic seemed to set in and I felt a huge amount of pressure to pick somewhere for an early decision application.

I decided to apply early to Vassar because I’d loved it so much on my visit and, being a highly competitive school, conventional wisdom said that applying early would increase my chances of being admitted. I threw myself into my early application, interviewed with a local alumna, and worked half-heartedly on other applications while I sat on pins and needles waiting for the response.

Looking back, there were definite clues that I wasn’t entirely comfortable with my decision. A belated realization that Poughkeepsie is not particularly close to New York City changed my perception of life at Vassar and I freaked out when I paid closer attention to the math and science general education requirements.

Nevertheless, when the dreaded thin envelope arrived in the first week of December, I was crushed. I cried, I lamented the loss of my “dream” school, and then….well, then I got over it. After about two days of obsessing over what could have been, I found myself feeling strangely liberated. I could go back to finishing numerous applications instead of committing myself to one school without knowing if they wanted to commit to me—these applications felt exciting again instead of overwhelming (most of the time).

This is not to say that Vassar isn’t an excellent college or that it is not the right choice for many people. But I pushed myself into the early decision option when it really was not the most logical path for me. The moments of doubt I felt while waiting for the decision were very telling, as was the relief that developed after my initial frustrating at being rejected. Perhaps they saw something in my application that I could not see myself: hesitation, uncertainty, a lack of a clear understanding of how I would fit into the campus. Whatever the reason may be, I can honestly say now that I am grateful for that early rejection. Not only did it prepare me for a handful more, it made me value the colleges that did accept me ever more—and when I painstakingly decided between my two final choices, I knew that I was making a fully informed and thoughtful decision.

On my first day at Occidental College, I met a student who was transferring from Vassar. The irony was not lost on me. The college admissions process is very much about personal choices and, in my experience, nobody has to make that choice early if he/she is not ready to do so.