More than any other part of the essay, the conclusion attracts mistaken ideas. I don’t mean that writers insert false information in their conclusions (though I’m not guaranteeing that every student essay I’ve read has been totally correct). Rather, I’m referring to the fact that lots of writers think they know what should be in the conclusion, but they’re mistaken. Indeed, the art of writing a conclusion is surrounded by more myths than ancient Greece. So before I explain what a good conclusion is, I must discuss what a conclusion is not.
Not a reworded introduction
Contrary to what you may have learned in elementary school, a conclusion isn’t a restatement of your introduction, with slightly different wording. For example, suppose you’re writing about an issue of importance to you. You chose the New York City law prohibiting pet ferrets. You love your little furry friend Ferry, but you have to board him in the country because inside the city line he’s a fugitive. Your first paragraph explains the law and describes in excruciating detail the Million Ferret March on City Hall you organized to protest the no-ferret rule. (By the way, ferrets really are forbidden in New York City, but thus far all the protests have been smaller — a lot smaller.) Your last paragraph states the terms of the ferret law and waxes poetic about the patter of four million paws in the protest march, plus the plod of nearly a million human shoes. Good idea? No, bad idea. You made those points already!
Some teachers of young children tell their pupils to rewrite the introduction and tack the new version of paragraph one onto the end of the composition. I imagine that they do so because young kids can’t write a true conclusion, and the teachers believe that any ending is better than just stopping short. But when you’re out of middle school, you must aim higher. Forget the reworded introduction!
One structure relies on bookends — two halves of one story framing the essay. One half of the story begins the essay and the other half ends it. (The middle discusses the issues raised by the story or relates other events.) This structure isn’t repetitive because although you are telling the same story in both the introduction and the conclusion, you’re relating different parts of the story in each spot. If you apply this structure to the ferret example, you may begin the essay with a description of the Million Ferret March just before the little furry guys take their first steps towards City Hall. In the conclusion, you may concentrate on the council hearing or focus on the tired protestors curling up in their pet carriers for the ride home. The essay focuses on one event, but everything in it is stated only once.
Not a miniature essay
A conclusion is not a restatement of all the points you made in the body of your work. I’ve seen “conclusions” that are nearly as long as the entire preceding essay. Here’s a (fictional) restatement ending for the forbidden ferret essay, with extra, not-included-in-the-essay comments from me in parentheses:
You might think that the Ferret Law protects the public, but in fact it does not. (A point you made in paragraph two.) These little creatures are not dangerous at all. (A point you made in paragraph three.) I’ve had a ferret for most of my life. (As you explained in detail in paragraph one.) Ferry has never nipped me and has always been a perfect pet. (Ditto — paragraph one goes into Ferry’s good qualities.) After the Million Ferret March, the law did not change (paragraph four’s main idea), but I am not discouraged. (Check out paragraph five.) I have begun a letter-writing campaign to the president and to several animal rights organizations. (Paragraph five told about these measures as well.) Ferry and I will overcome! (A declaration already made in paragraph one.)
Anything new here? Nothing at all! I know that the writer is very insecure when I read such a restatement ending. (I refuse to dignify that sort of writing with the term “conclusion.”) Afraid that the point hasn’t come across, the writer goes through the whole thing again, hoping that one last round will make everything clear. But if your essay is reasonably well written, the information in each preceding paragraph is already clear. And if the essay is floundering around in complete confusion, a restatement at the end won’t solve the problem.
Not an announcement
One truly deadly ending goes something like this: “In this essay I have shown that pets like my ferret Ferry should be allowed in New York City.” Yikes! Personally, I hate this kind of ending for any paper, though I know that a few of my colleagues in academia favor a version of the “announcement” conclusion for some research papers. Good for them. But for a college admission essay, this ending is totally inappropriate. Remember that you’re showing off your writing skills for the admissions committee. They’re hoping to see something a bit more creative. Besides, if you truly have made the point, the admissions committee will know without an announcement.
Not a new topic
Some writers avoid repetition, restatement, and announcing by going to the opposite extreme. They plunk down a completely new idea in the conclusion — something brought in from another universe for the sake of novelty. Going back to The Ferret Factor example, you can imagine the reader’s confusion if the last paragraph suddenly veered off into a description of the other pets the writer has had through the years or into a general protest against the mistreatment of animals. If you’ve had a sudden brainstorm, write another essay. But as you conclude the one you’ve just written, stay on topic.
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