My College Essay & Maggot Man

First of all, I want to be clear: I wasn't the author of this college application essay; I was the coach. As a Yale graduate and the author of 7 books, I'm often asked for writing help. A friend of a friend asked me to coach her son, Rick, on his college essay. Rick's mom didn't mention that I was the third coach they had brought in, after both parents and the first two coaches gave up on Rick and his essay.

College application essays are an American tradition. You're supposed to produce a personal, thoughtful essay about something meaningful to you. College deans delegate essay grading to the newest faculty, who are less adept at dodging unpleasant tasks. So a sullen-faced junior professor glances at your essay, sometimes for up to 30 seconds, and judges if you can follow simple instructions, write complete sentences, and produce something original.

A typical application essay is 650 words. You've already read the equivalent of a quarter of a college application essay. I read Rick's draft (which 4 people had already strived to improve). The essay started strong, with a story about how Rick had eaten lunch, gone swimming at the beach, then got in trouble with cramp. He didn't drown, I was glad to learn. I later revised my view about that.

After the strong beginning, Rick abruptly veered from the beach to the bizarre. The second paragraph was an introduction to Rick's favorite sci-fi character, Maggot Man. In the third paragraph, Rick laid out how Maggot Man cleverly escaped from a tricky situation, by using his head. (He used the jaw part of his head to gnaw through a wall). The fourth paragraph was also about Maggot Man. So was the fifth. Are you picking up the theme here? Rick really liked Maggot Man, and had crafted his entire college application essay as an accolade to his superhero.

Maggot Man

“Great first paragraph,” I told Rick, “But the stuff about Maggot Man has to go. It's not personal to you”.

“It is personal to me,” the 11th grader insisted, “I find it very meaningful”.

“It's not meaningful to the professor who's going to grade your work,” I pointed out. Rick didn't care. He felt he was defending his artistic integrity against the Philistines his parents kept dragging in.

I tried a different tack. “How about ending with a personal anecdote similar to the swimming cramp story? An anecdote where your quick thinking saved the day? Like rescuing an old lady stuck up a tree, or helping a cat cross the road? Or propose different, original characters, like Ringworm Kid and the Trichomoniasis Twins?” Rick considered that carefully, then his eyes lit up. “There was the time the comic book store sold out of 'Maggot Man, Vol IX' before I could get there”.

“It has to be something about you, not Maggot Man,” I quickly interjected.

“It was about me,” Rick lied. “I had to nag my dad to drive me to the next town to buy the book. He got a speeding ticket and swore at the cop. The cop added a ticket for a faulty tail light! It was awesome! That was the story where Maggot Man mistook an alien radio for a gun, and he accidentally broadcast someone to Neptune.”

It was clear why four previous adults had failed to improve Rick's masterpiece. Rick was determined to memorialize Maggot Man through his college essay. Maybe dynamite or a good psychiatrist would shift him, but I didn't have either handy. I explained the situation to Rick's mom. I recommended allowing Rick his choice of essay, and let him learn from the experience of total failure. Rick could apply again next year with a new essay. We all saw that Maggot Man would never convince an admissions professor to admit Rick. I mean, come on! What kind of lame college would be impressed by teenage adulation of a fictional insect larva?

It was a big surprise when Rick's mom emailed to thank me, saying Rick had been accepted by his top college using this ridiculous essay. A little old school in north Boston. Perhaps you've heard of this college? Harvard, it's called. I'd love to have seen the admissions professor scan Rick's work, presumably setting a new world record for “quickest reading” if he read it at all. Veritas, Rick. And for everyone else: remember, you can always get a Harvard man off your porch, by paying him for the pizza.