At schools like Stanford, Harvard and UChicago, there’s an internal measure that often matters more than test scores or even essays.
Stanford calls it “intellectual vitality.” Harvard tracks a version of the same idea.
It’s a simple question, really.
Does a student learn because they’re assigned to – or because they actually want to?
That distinction has become much more obvious over the last year.
For a long time, a strong essay could do a lot of the work. A student could sound curious and reflective. In a world where AI can produce polished writing almost instantly, college admissions offices have adjusted.
Grades still matter. Course rigor still matters. It always has, and it always will. Those things establish competence. What they don’t do, on their own, is tell you much about how a student thinks when no one is guiding them.
What stands out now is what happens outside the standard roadmap.
When I look at the strongest applicants, there’s a noticeable pattern. Their learning doesn’t stop when the syllabus does. They find ways to go further than what their school formally offers, usually without making a big show of it. They’ll spend real time on one or two ideas that genuinely interest them – reading, building, testing, going down paths that don’t always pan out. It’s rarely neat or “optimized,” and that’s part of the point.
That same distinction shows up in recommendations. The most compelling letters aren’t about how responsible or hardworking a student is. They describe how the student thinks. The questions they ask. The moments where they push a conversation in an unexpected direction or connect ideas in a way that surprises the writer.
This is where a lot of well-intentioned families get tripped up.
A student who takes every AP and joins a long list of clubs often looks impressive on paper. But they can still read as very “school-directed.” Meanwhile, a student who goes deep on a single intellectual thread and produces something tangible, however imperfect, often comes across as far more distinctive.
That’s why sophomore and junior year matter so much right now. This is the window where the shift has to happen, from participation to contribution. From following the plan to shaping one.
The students who do best in this process aren’t trying to look impressive. They’re engaged in their own thinking, and admissions officers can feel that when they read the file.
That’s the real signal.
Marc is the author of Untangling the Ivy League, a best-selling guidebook on the Ancient Eight. He earned a BA from Cornell University and an MBA from University of North Carolina – Chapel Hill. Marc chaired the admissions ambassadors at Cornell and the admissions advisory board at UNC.
