Over my years working with college applicants, I’ve noticed a puzzling pattern that frustrates both students and families.

Two students sit in front of me with similarly impressive resumes. Both have leadership positions. Both have pursued challenging activities. Both have achieved recognition in their respective fields. Both are strong students academically. On paper, they look equally qualified for highly selective colleges.

But when their applications are complete, and I review them with a critical eye (the same eye an admission officer will use), something is different. One application tells a clear, compelling story. The other, despite all its merits, reads like a list of accomplishments that don’t quite add up to anything memorable—it doesn’t tell a story.

The Invisible Problem with Impressive Activities

How and why do some applications, despite the extraordinary information included in them, not tell a story? Consider two examples for what I mean by “doesn’t tell a story”:

  • Student A plays varsity soccer, volunteers at a local hospital, serves as treasurer of a student council, participates in a debate club, and works part-time at a retail store. All of these are legitimate, demanding activities. This student is clearly motivated and capable.
  • Student B also has five main activities: conducts environmental research with a local university professor, leads the school’s environmental club, volunteers with a watershed conservation organization, writes about climate policy for the school paper, and interns with the city’s sustainability office during the summer.

high school science labBoth students are accomplished. Both have demonstrated commitment and achievement.

However, Student B’s application practically writes itself. Every activity points in the same direction. The narrative is obvious: here’s a student passionate about environmental issues who has pursued that interest with increasing depth and sophistication. An admission officer can immediately envision what this student will contribute to campus and what they might pursue in the future.

What about student A? The admission officer sees a good student who has done many good things. But there’s no thread connecting them. No clear sense of what drives this student or what they might bring to campus beyond general competence.

When the Problem Becomes Visible (And Why That’s Too Late)

The cruel irony is that this issue often doesn’t reveal itself until late in the process—specifically, when students sit down to fill out the Common Application activity list and write their essays.

Suddenly, what seemed like a well-rounded profile looks scattered on paper. There’s no natural essay topic that emerges from the activities. The supplemental essay prompts asking “why this major?” or “what will you contribute to our community?” feel difficult to answer with specificity.

By this point (fall of senior year), it’s largely too late to fix the fundamental issue.

The Solution Starts Earlier Than You Think

I wish I could say there’s a magic formula that works for every student, but the truth is more nuanced. Some students naturally gravitate toward connected interests, and their story emerges organically. Others pursue diverse, genuine interests that simply don’t cohere into a single narrative.

Here’s what I’ve observed in students who avoid this trap: they develop focus earlier in their high school career—ideally by the middle of sophomore year, and certainly by the end of that year.

This doesn’t mean abandoning all variety or pursuing a “passion project” designed purely for admission purposes. Instead, it means being intentional about three things:

  1. Depth over breadth: Rather than sampling eight different activities at a surface level, commit deeply to two or three areas that genuinely interest you. Deepen your involvement over time. Don’t just participate, lead. Don’t just lead, innovate.
  2. Thematic connection: Look for the threads that connect your interests, even across different domains. A student interested in both economics and community service might focus on financial literacy programs. An aspiring engineer who loves music might explore the acoustics of instrument design or volunteer teaching STEM concepts through music education.
  3. Sustained commitment: Highly selective colleges want to see growth and increasing impact over time, not a resume of one-year involvements. The narrative power comes from demonstrating how you’ve developed within your areas of focus across multiple years.

Consider the Honest Reality, Though

I’ll be direct: even with this advice, application outcomes at highly selective colleges remain somewhat unpredictable. The difference between a cohesive narrative and a scattered profile can matter, but it’s not the only factor.

What I can tell you is that students who think intentionally about focus and narrative earlier in high school give themselves the best chance of presenting a compelling application when the time comes. They also tend to have more meaningful experiences, because they’re pursuing genuine interests with real depth rather than checking boxes.

Getting Help Earlier in the Process

If you’re reading this as a freshman or sophomore, you’re in an ideal position to think proactively about building a focused profile. If you’re a junior or senior, there may still be opportunities to strengthen the connections between your activities and tell your story more effectively.

This kind of strategic thinking about narrative and focus is exactly what I work on with students throughout their high school years. If you’d like guidance on developing a compelling application story while staying true to your authentic interests, I’d welcome the opportunity to work with you.