The Quiet Loss of Authenticity and Creativity

Evan Werner ’27

We have become a generation obsessed with the curation of identity. It’s no longer just about presenting ourselves well, it’s about manufacturing the perfect narrative. We spend hours tailoring the perfect online persona, chasing validation, and trying to fit in. But this obsession with appearances isn’t just social anymore, it’s spilled over into the college admissions process.

Scrolling through my TikTok feed I am confronted with videos detailing overwhelming lists of impressive grades, extracurriculars, and SAT scores. Each of their captions contains some variation of the seemingly innocent: “Stats that got me into Harvard.” Sitting on the other side of the screen, it seems impossible for someone to be able to achieve so much in only four years of high school. How can one maintain a perfect GPA, start a successful non-profit, and find the cure for cancer, all at once? Are we supposed to make Forbes 30 Under 30 before we can even vote?

While I constantly tell myself, “Don't change who you are to fit a college application,” I often wonder if my repetition is an attempt to convince myself, rather than a product of my true feelings. Maybe it's who I surround myself with, or the media I consume, but though I’m only a Sophomore, college feels startlingly close. It looms before me–a supermassive blackhole I am slowly inching towards. It’s not college itself that I fear, I’m excited for the freedom it will bring. What unsettles me is the pressure to make the right choice and the nagging question: How do I even ensure I get in? Despite having more than a year before I am hit with the full weight of applications, I cannot be the only one faced with preemptive, but undeniable, pressure.  

One Sunday, after a long meeting at Court Street with my camp's program “UnCOR,” I walked my friend home. On our way, she told me about a new journalism internship she had recently landed. When I asked her how she found it, she told me about her school's weekly opportunities list. The “list” was actually an 89-page spreadsheet, covering every kind of competition, award, scholarship, and internship one could dream up. It was categorized with hyperlinks to each category, and listed by its respective deadline. Taking the train home, I couldn't help but wonder how high schoolers have time to fit so many extracurriculars into their life. When did it become necessary for our spare time to start being a competition for the most overcrowded résumé? This list, while seemingly innocent, epitomizes unrealistic standards about all the things we need to have experience in. This list made me wonder, If 89 pages of opportunities were being sent out to students, is this what schools felt was necessary to get into a good college? 

The hunger for both an impressive yet authentic résumé and a strong GPA constantly work against each other. This relationship is true for me. If I had fewer things to do outside of school, I could be more attentive to my schoolwork. If I had less schoolwork, I could be more involved outside of school. The two are directly correlated, and it becomes a vicious cycle, giving me no time to invest in the things I love. 

 I find passion has become a mere strategy, something we pursue only if it adds value to a résumé or secures an acceptance letter. But, in reducing passion to a calculated move, we strip it of its essence. Creativity becomes a means to an end rather than an end in itself. The pressure of constructing the perfect Common App makes it feel unrealistic for us to dedicate significant amounts of our time to creative pursuits because it feels like they won't get us anywhere. We’ve been conditioned to see passion as valuable only when it’s strategic, not when it’s simply joyful.

When I compare how much I want to do in my life with what I can feasibly accomplish as a student, I grow frustrated that both cannot be true; I cannot be the best student possible while simultaneously enjoying my time creatively. As much as I want to dedicate myself to getting into college, there is a nagging question eating at me. If there was less pressure for the perfect application, would we grow into a more creative society? It might sound a bit extreme to connect this to the “big picture,” but it’s true—more art leads to a better world. When creativity isn’t forced into the confines of ‘impressiveness,’ it thrives and ends in some of the best inventions of our lifetime. 

When we were younger, we had time to do it all. While I can't speak for everyone, my school day felt short, and I considered after school to be the true meat of the day. I could go to the park, play Capture the Flag for hours, make it to my violin lesson, and still get groceries for whatever dessert I wanted to make that night. Back then, I had no conception of the word “college.” Now, my creative ambitions are limited, not because I lack interest, but because I lack time. I would love to dedicate significant time to music, but I only find myself having time to learn a Crosby, Stills & Nash song in between cramming for a math test and finishing an essay. 

Time is a huge factor. We lose out on creativity and the things that bring us joy because of school, that much is obvious. But, possibly, the most devastating reality is that all the time we are spending, even if subconsciously, is about shaping ourselves into a viable candidate for college. But what is a viable candidate? Why do we put so much emphasis on people who view us as mere candidates for their institution, rather than growing into versions of ourselves that are personally fulfilling? My two cents: if a college accepts you for your authentic self, they’re the lucky ones, not the other way around. Colleges are lucky that we even consider them, they should be looking for students who are truly passionate and driven, not just those who look good for their institution. If we go on, in silent competition with each other and anxiety-clouded minds about making it to the “top 20”, we’re only feeding the very system that stifles individuality.  Carrying the mindset that you will make do with your passions, your talents, and feel fulfilled doing what you actually like, is the kind of mindset that builds not just stronger individuals, but a more honest society. 

The immense pressure surrounding college admissions has fundamentally altered how students engage with their time and their creativity. Rather than exploring passions for the sake of joy and self-exploration, we feel forced to mold ourselves into the perfect applicants. The prioritization of prestige over passion stifles originality, limiting what we allow ourselves to pursue. If we could shift our focus from crafting ideal applications to fostering genuine curiosity, perhaps we could reclaim the creativity we’ve lost to the college admissions process.