What It Takes to Get Into MIT

 Yeesh... I haven't posted in ages (and by ages, I actually mean a week). I guess that means I'll provide you with some bonus content after this blogpost, so enjoy :)

I wanted to discuss an encounter that I had on Pi Day, when I ran into a mother of a ten year old child from Germany. We didn't know each other, but she was able to quickly deduce that I went to MIT. From here, I think you can probably guess what question she asked me while we were crossing Mass. Ave. at the same time:

"What does it take to get into MIT?"

I didn't really have a good answer when she asked me this at the time. I was going through another one of my "crying-on-the-inside-about-6.0001" moments while waiting for the green light when she approached me, so I was completely dazed and caught off guard.

Of course, I referred the concerned mother to the apply sideways post from the MIT blogs because that's the most obvious thing that comes to mind. I also said that her son should be both curious and kind because MIT values both of these things and reiterated that his grades and test scores won't be what gets him in. And of course, I reminded her that you cannot completely guarantee admissions into MIT because there's still a non-negligible factor of luck in these admissions.

Let's be real, though. The above is probably the most cliché, most obvious thing I could have ever said. So I'm going to try to come up with a better answer. Also, here's a picture of MIT that I will probably use as my thumbnail, or whatever.

First off, let's try to make getting into MIT seem a bit easier. You, in no way, shape, or form, have to be smart or good at anything to get in. I know this from personal experience. As for what it does take (besides the luck factor, since there's always that), I think the answer is best explained by a Dumbledore quote:

“It is our choices... that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.”

I've had a lot to think about this semester after the ASE. In fact, even now, I have a hard time writing this because my thoughts are so jumbled, so don't be surprised if I am making no sense or even contradicting myself. But I vaguely remembered something Cindy said about me listening in to 6.009 when I was particularly lethargic (which means she was probably trying to comfort me more than anything). It was something about me actively choosing to do all of the labs despite not actually being in the class, and that was apparently a good thing.

Now, my honest opinion on that is that was just the Bargaining phrase of the Five Stages of Grief, and I'm just now currently in the Depression stage. I'm still trying my best to keep my mood up high, but even though I know subconsciously that there probably were benefits to everything I went through (the failure, I mean. I gained absolutely nothing except a waste of time from the class), I still feel in denial that I actually learned something (even though I'm acknowledging that I'm in denial??? Again, my thoughts are so jumbled...)

Also, I felt as if everything I've done thus far was to try to prove that I did not belong in 6.0001, especially the part where I was pointing out everything that was wrong with the test cases. Even during the 6.0001 final, I had a hard time skipping problems (though I did) because I needed to prove (to somebody???) that I can still at least pass all of the coding problems with flying colors despite anything 6.0001 could've reasonably thrown at me.

But in a way, I sorta see what Cindy meant. Despite my ultra-bleak outlook on everything, I still found a way to make the most out of it. It sorta-kinda reminded me of when I decided to take the AP Psychology textbook from the boy's locker room and take the AP exam without taking the class. Now, granted that it's possible with enough brain power to cram this class all in two days because this is literally by far the easiest exam to cram the night before. But it didn't matter whether that I could do that. It mattered that I chose to learn it the best I can (though I probably/definitely forgot all of it by now).

Now, obviously, because AP Psychology is so ridiculously easy to do the night before, that wasn't the reason why I got in. In fact, many others can do the same and MUCH more and still did not get in. Also in fact, I still don't know how I got into MIT, because my essays sucked. But after this semester I know that I will choose to fight back or forge ahead, despite something as small as a letter grade or as big as ten (or however many, I didn't count) lab assignments though that letter grade feels more of a deterrant than the 10 labs. And despite whatever difficulties I encounter, and despite my perseverence often backfiring (that's how I run out of time on tests), I will choose to do whatever it takes to see things through. And while these choices might not by why MIT accepted me, these choices will be why my acceptance wasn't a mistake.

(Note: This in no way means I regret having to go through it. I still hate having to take 6.0001 with a passion and I still assert that I have learned absolutely nothing from taking that class)

That aside, I promised you bonus content, so I'll post one of my responses to an MIT admissions essay below:

Describe the world you come from; for example, your family, clubs, school, community, city, or town. How has that world shaped your dreams and aspirations?

In elementary school, Charlie and I would spend most of our after school hours wandering into the school’s basement’s restricted areas. There wasn’t much we’d look for. It was just an adrenaline pump. Charlie always marched forward while I trailed. I wasn’t scared of the “Beware Ghosts” sign. I was just taught obedience at home.

This was a daily routine until fourth grade when I transferred into a new school, where rules were stricter than ever. I even got lunch detention once for going back into a classroom because I forgot my lunch. Nobody seemed to care except me. Papers flew, bullies bullied, deadlines were missed, and there was still a Charlie inside me waiting across the three years I was here.

High school offered more freedom, but another restricted basement eludes me. However, I didn’t need a basement for an adventure this time. Charlie doesn’t necessarily represent mischief; he represents freedom to do as my favorite red-haired teacher’s tried teaching me to do: “take chances, make mistakes, and get messy.”

I may not have original Charlie’s level of mischief, but his sense of “frontier” has motivated me to take more chances. Today, I also have encouragement from school and from my classmates to do what I’ve not been told to do. My old friend’s thought process had been my key to uncovering more paths than I’ve known. Learn cognitive sciences outside of school? Hey, why not? I discovered something I like, and there’s no better beginning than that.