Why do colleges require a personal essay for admission?

Unlike many of my compatriots, I rarely compare Canada to the United States. For one, there are too many flaws, deficiencies and limitations in my home country to entitle me to critique issues from south of the border. Moreover, my childhood and teen U.S. summer beach vacations are just too memorable for me to want to take aim at the country that offered me that much of a good time.

Be that as it may, I’m going to dive into one particular American issue. A lot of attention has been paid recently to the college admissions essay — partly because of the Supreme Court’s affirmative action decision and partly because of the high cost of education.

We all hope that colleges accept the right students for the right programs, ensuring students’ success, not their financial decimation. If something other than grades, awards, standardized tests, volunteer work, sports, extracurricular clubs, and letters of recommendation is needed for colleges — and 18-year-olds — to make that important decision, so be it.

The preferred tool, the personal essay, appears to be more problematic than it is worth. Students struggle to find the right words to reveal their ability to overcome adversity and rise above all challenges, words colleges seem so keen on reading. One of the essay prompts on the Common App reads: “The lessons we take from obstacles we encounter can be fundamental to later success. Recount a time when you faced a challenge, setback, or failure. How did it affect you, and what did you learn from the experience?”

Why are we having students identify with difficult moments to get into a school, instead of allowing them to look to the future with the hope, carefreeness and vitality of a high school graduate and with the interest, abilities and talents required for the degree and profession of their choice? Maybe their obstacles have yet to be overcome, and some may never move past theirs, leaving these students wrongly questioning their “later success” and aptitude for higher education.

In Canada, we use the letter of intent. It is nothing more than a boring one-page letter stating a student’s accomplishments, and what they hope to do with the degree once they graduate. The University of Toronto says the letter “ . . . should reflect the relevant skills and characteristics requested by the program . . . ” Simple. Oh so Canadian, but oh so sensible and matter-of-fact.

No one rejects the idea that successfully overcoming challenges builds character, resilience and strength. Nor does anyone deny that self-awareness, introspection and reflection are key aspects of personal growth. However, to make these challenges a part of one’s core identity minimizes a person’s worth and only serves to create tunnel vision and a very narrow worldview.

Admitting students on merit alone is tricky, considering the inequalities of the education system that can be seen as early as preschool, to say nothing of parental guidance and wealth. Colleges, therefore, need to help students focus on who they are, not on what they went through; on where they want to go, not on where they’ve been. Hardships can be dealt with at the opportune time — privately, if one chooses, or publicly, and in the capacity that best suits the person. Tying the happy start-of-college milestone to difficulties, challenges and adversities due to factors likely no fault of the student’s, is not only effacing, but devoid of pleasure, taking away the joy of moving on and beyond.