College Admission Essays: Concluding the Essay with Class

Tying up loose ends

If the bulk of your essay is a story, the conclusion is the spot to let the reader know how the story ends. Perhaps your essay is about your experiment in novel writing, which occupied countless hours during your sophomore year. In the conclusion you say whether you actually finished the novel, how your writing was received by its intended audience, and what you learned from your year as a budding Dickens. Your conclusion ties up the loose ends and gives the reader a feeling of completion. The reader’s reaction is “Ah, so that’s how it all worked out! He finished it after all. And he gained confidence in his writing skills. Great!” Or perhaps your essay is a reflection on the meaning of your brother’s bout with illness and how his struggle affected you. The conclusion gives the reader an update on your brother’s condition and your current thoughts on the experience. Those current thoughts place the event in the wider context of your life. One more example: say you’re writing about an issue of importance, perhaps the persistence of homelessness. In the essay you explain your view of the problem and present two or three corrective measures. The conclusion might be your estimation of the possibility that these measures will be carried out. In your view is society willing and able to do the right thing, as you’ve defined it?

Here’s the tying-up-loose-ends technique in action, in skeletal form (“bones” only, no details) in response to the “tell about a significant experience” question:

Introduction: description of family’s escape from war-torn area, mother and father in separate refugee camps, children divided, two left behind when soldiers prevented them from crossing the border

Body: details about the family’s life before the war, the strong bonds between family members, the values shared by all, their reactions to the early stage of the crisis and increasingly difficult conditions

Conclusion: how the family reunited and resettled, the current status of family members, reflections on the effect of these experiences

For a glimpse of this sort of conclusion in a real student essay, click here for the example essay. Notice how the conclusion resolves several issues raised by the body of the essay. By reading the conclusion, the reader learns that

• The older brother resolved the fight with his parents.
• No punishment was given to the author of the essay.
• The parents approved of the author’s behavior.

Only a few sentences long, the conclusion nevertheless packs a lot of information into a small space. Moreover, it has a dramatic punch, leaving the reader with a strong, impressive memory that won’t soon fade!

Creating a wider context

In a properly focused essay, you zero in on a narrow topic — the time you potty-trained the local zoo’s yak herd, perhaps. But what’s the meaning of that experience beyond the fact that the zookeepers don’t have to shovel all day and the fact that you had to wash your hands a lot last summer? And do universities care?

Yes, they do. Universities, when they’re doing a proper job, prepare students for a meaningful role in society. So, by definition, the institution you’re applying to needs to think about the meaning of your years on its campus — not just “What will you learn from us?” but “What will you contribute (and I don’t mean only money) after you leave us?” Consequently, they’re interested in your ability to look beyond your own concerns towards the wider context — your view of the world beyond yourself. One way you can provide this information is by writing a “wider-context” conclusion. A wider-context conclusion, as its name implies, begins where the rest of the essay left off and expands outward. If your essay is about your family, the wider context may be the way families like yours are perceived in the community. In an essay about your learning experience, the wider-context conclusion may broaden outward to a philosophy of education. (Note: Sometimes “tying-up-loose-ends” conclusions also place the issue or event in a wider context. Check out the preceding section for details.)

Here’s a summary of an essay responding to a typical med-school question: “How do you envision your future practice in the field of medicine?” (Non-med-school applicants write about different subjects, but the larger-context technique is still valid.)

Introduction: ten years down the road working with a group of pediatricians to offer quality care in a rural area

Body: raised in a city but loved summers in the country, appreciates kids, doesn’t want to be on call 24/7 but knows patients need coverage, group practice solves problems and gives population a needed service

Conclusion: understands that rural areas are underserved, health of the poor has not been a national priority, next generation of doctors should do their part to improve health care itself, not just heal individual patients

Completing the experience

You may have heard the expression “coming full circle.” The full circle (as opposed, I imagine, to a half or semi-circle) is a complete figure. The beginning and end come together seamlessly, and nothing more is necessary. In an essay, a full-circle conclusion encloses everything you’ve written in a neat package. The reader has a feeling of fulfillment, an “I know it all now” sensation. This sort of conclusion often resembles or overlaps the “tying-up-loose-ends” conclusion because it brings the topic to a close for the reader.

The easiest way to write a “full-circle” conclusion is to end where you began the essay . . . in time, in ideas, in location. This technique is fairly easy to apply; if you’re writing about your room, for example, you may begin and end at the most important feature — your 40-pipe, ultra-loud, antique organ. If you’re writing about the neighbors’ attempts to have your 40-pipe, ultra-loud, antique organ blown up, you may begin with the visit from the Environmental Protection Agency’s Noise Squad, cut to the importance in your life of the instrument (your first lessons, your carving of replacement pipes, your discovery of Bach at high volume, and so on), and then back to the Noise Squad, whose measurements showed that the organ was not as bad as a freight train engine but louder than a heavy metal concert.

Coming full circle does not mean repeating yourself. End where you began, but don’t overlap.

Here’s the haiku version (short, as in the 17-syllable poem) of a full-circle essay:

Introduction: explanation of your view of beauty — that even the ugliest things, when they fulfill their function without waste, may be beautiful

Body: discussion of the classical definition of beauty and its shortcomings, appreciation for function, concerns about waste and the environment, need for new definition

Conclusion: description of a solar-powered lemon-squeezer, ugly in terms of conventional aesthetics but beautiful according to your definition

Forging the last link in a chain of logic

By “forging” I don’t mean cranking out your very own twenty-dollar bills in the basement. I refer to the hammering the blacksmith does on a piece of hot metal, the turning of a lump of iron into a yard of chain. You don’t have to sweat over a hot fire to create links; you just have to think logically. And when you get to the last link, the final step should be a cinch. When have you taken the reader with your reasoning power? The answer to that question is your conclusion.

The essay structure most often taught in school is simple. In paragraph one you make a statement, and in the rest of the essay you back up that statement with proof. The structure I discuss in this section is different. Instead of backing up, you lead the reader forward to a new idea.

A chain-of-logic conclusion flows naturally from the ideas that precede it. You’re saying, “If this is true, then that is true. And if that is true, this other idea is also true. . . .” Here’s a chain-of-logic conclusion for an essay about penguins, in answer to a request to “write about someone or something that is meaningful to you.” (Note: The “information” bears absolutely no resemblance to any actual fact about penguins.)

Introduction: description of the Emperor Penguins’ appearance

Body: the penguins’ appearance resembles a tuxedo, a tuxedo is formal attire, the penguins are always formally dressed, formally dressed people generally exhibit good manners, the penguins follow the rules of etiquette

Conclusion: Emperor Penguins’ “dress” and manners should serve as a model to all other birds and even to people

Depending on the drama of your subject and the impact of your concluding thought, a chain-of-logic conclusion may make a strong impression on your reader. The next section goes into detail on this function of a conclusion.

Making a strong impression

Composers of Broadway musicals speak of the “eleven o’clock number” — the showstopper at the end of the performance that sends audience members out into the night, humming and tapping their feet. Your admission essay needs an eleven o’clock number too: a strong last paragraph that makes an indelible impression on the reader.

Fortunately, human nature makes the task of writing a memorable conclusion easier. Why? Think about all the speeches (or class lectures and church sermons) you’ve attended. You probably tuned in on full power at the beginning. Most people are optimists, and unless proven otherwise, they live in hope that the speech will be at least moderately interesting. Sadly, unless you were listening to an exceptionally fine orator, you may have faded a bit in the middle. But everyone perks up towards the end, giving the speaker one last bit of attention. The same phenomenon holds true for essays. Even readers who skim the middle on automatic pilot switch to manual control for the last paragraph. So you’ve got a good audience for your parting shot.

Take advantage of that increased concentration. As you plan your essay, identify particularly strong points or interesting details and save them for the end, as long as you don’t wreck the logical structure by doing so. To be more specific:

• If your essay is primarily a story, interpret the story in the conclusion.
• If your essay contains a lengthy description, choose a great sensory detail or a metaphor for the last paragraph.
• If you’re interpreting a quotation, make your strongest point at the end of the essay.
• If you’ve broadened the focus of the essay to a wider context, consider concluding with an interesting anecdote illustrating that context.
• For an essay with a survey structure in the last paragraph interpret the overall meaning of the items surveyed.
• If you have one line that’s a real zinger, place it at the end.

Click here for the example about another real student essay with a great concluding line. The author speaks of two assemblies he organized at his New York City school in the weeks following the September 11th attacks. The very last line — a zinger — communicates the students’ reactions and shows that the author’s efforts were successful . . . all in six words!

One of the best conclusions I’ve ever seen was written by John McPhee, a non-fiction writer whose work has appeared frequently in The New Yorker. McPhee’s essay, “The Search for Marvin Gardens,” has an interlocking structure. In a series of short segments he recounts playing the board game Monopoly. As you may know, the properties for sale in the traditional game are named for streets in Atlantic City, New Jersey. McPhee’s paragraphs on the game are interwoven with paragraphs describing the actual streets and other locations from the game, including the local jail. One property — Marvin Gardens — proves elusive. The narrator can’t find that street, though it appears on the board game. For the second half of the essay the narrator asks everyone he meets in Atlantic City about Marvin Gardens. No one knows where it is. Finally, in the last paragraph, the author discovers that Marvin Gardens is a planned community outside the city limits. The reader shares the narrator’s relief that the puzzle is solved. That last paragraph is a good payoff to several pages of rising tension.