What is wrong with this picture?

It’s late February, and in the world of law school admissions, it’s crunch time for application-reading.  I wake up, and I start reading applications before the coffee has finished brewing.  I go to bed at night, thinking about whether maybe I’m actually awake enough to read two or even three more.  I sit in meetings, worrying about the fact that I’m not reading applications.  I drive my children to viola and cello lessons, and as I wait in the driveway, I read applications by the car dome light. 

So what’s the last thing that it would make sense for me to do as voluntary extracurricular?  Reading applications, right?  And yet here I am in Annapolis, where I’ve been for the past 36 hours or so, where I’ve signed up for being shut into a hotel room for three days with two other file readers and a box of about 100 Truman Scholar applications.  This is, I believe, the fourth year I’ve undergone this exercise; the first year, I didn’t have much of an idea what I was getting into honestly, but now ignorance is truly no excuse and I can only marvel at my willingness—nay, eagerness—to do this.  When I bumped into a business school admissions officer in the hallway (one of us on our way to get a caffeinated beverage, one of us returning from having gotten a caffeinated beverage)  and she put the “What is wrong with this picture?” question to me, I knew exactly what she meant.

And yet, signing up to read Truman applications is not actually a marker for masochism.   First, as a professional matter, it’s a quite different undertaking than reading applications for law school.   We read in cooperative groups; we all have to agree on outcomes; we discuss our different approaches, values, and points of view.  It’s as if all year long, I run the 800 in track, but once a year, I run a relay instead.  Passing that baton is something entirely new and different.

Another huge distinction:  all of the Truman applicants have been carefully vetted by college advisors or committees long before we see their applications.  Likewise, the application itself is far less freeform than is the law school format.  And along those lines, what we’re seeking is actually quite different; instead of looking for a wide variety of backgrounds and interests, as I do in order to fill the law school class, we’re seeking individuals with a shared motivation to a life of public service.  Much more than in the law school application process, then, I’m undertaking an apples-to-apples comparison. The challenge to make meaningful distinctions is quite different than the challenge of the apples-to-oranges, or not infrequent apples-to-pawpaws, comparisons I am typically charged with making.  (Many thanks to Stanford Law’s Faye Deal for helping me decide what was the funniest fruit name.   If I am a masochist, then she is doubly so, since she flies across the country in order to be locked in a neighboring hotel room.)

But OK, I’m not doing exactly the same thing as I do in my day job.  Is that my best defense against a masochism charge?  No, it’s this:  reading these applications gives me a lot of hope for the world every year.  Over and over I read the hopes and intentions of extremely smart and engaged young people who want to save the world.   The common thread of optimism and idealism is potent, and I’m amply rewarded for my extracurricular papercuts.  

-Dean Z.
Assistant Dean and Director of Admissions