It is true that you won’t get much mileage with colleges if you spend your summers lying on the couch watching reruns of House despite the exposure it would give you to the latest diagnostic techniques in medicine. It is also true that you don’t have to build a new public transit system in Djibouti to do something meaningful that admission directors will find interesting.

Colleges ask how you have spent your summers because they want to get a fuller picture of you and your interests, not because they want to see specific prestigious programs that you have or haven’t attended. In recent years, it has become increasingly common for the children of middle class and wealthy parents to feel that there is a requirement to do spectacular things during summer breaks from school: feed the hungry in the Third World, rebuild Haiti after the earthquake, or successfully negotiate a Middle East peace settlement. In practice, selective colleges are just as happy to see students work during the summer in a part-time job. It is not the case that you need to find the most exotic, far-flung way to do community service that you can find. What you should do during the summer is delve deeper into those things that interest you in ways that are not possible during the school year. And much to the chagrin of pricey summer programs, there are inexpensive ways to pursue a variety of interests.

No summer activity will make or break your admission to a particular college. The activity will end up mattering in the college admission process to the extent it ends up mattering to you. If you find the experience compelling enough to write about in one of your essays, then it may play a salient role in your admission, but not simply because you did it; rather, because it influenced the way you think and feel and move in the world. In short, it isn’t the particular summer activity you choose, it’s your reasons for choosing it that matter.

Culturally, we place so much emphasis on how to get into colleges that we do little to prepare students to choose from among the schools that admit them.  What makes criteria for choosing a college good or bad? Should you trust your gut feelings? And what if you don’t have strong feelings?

Although it may be better than waiting to hear from colleges, the month or so during which students compare their choices is often quite stressful. Students want to make the “right” choice and often fear making the “wrong” one. But what would a “wrong” choice look like?

“I would end up being unhappy, not clicking with the other students, not knowing my professors, wishing I had gone to another college,” one student confided. I took a moment to consider what she said. Tammy knew herself well enough to know that she wanted a small liberal arts college with approximately 1000-2500 students. She wanted undergraduate education to be the primary focus and purpose of the school, easy access to faculty, and a strong sense of community. She had several choices that fit the bill and had narrowed them to two — Whitman College and Connecticut College — but she was stumped because she liked aspects of both schools, and she felt the advantages of one over the other were not obvious. They often aren’t.

“What if you would be equally happy at either school?” I asked. The horror! There was supposed to be a right answer.

“Then how do I choose?” she asked.

“Any time you make a choice, you open one set of possibilities and foreclose another. What we give up fades in importance as we reap the benefits of what we choose.”

“Either way I lose,” Tammy said.

“And either way you win,” I asserted.

“I always pictured myself going to college on the East Coast,” said the Carmel High School senior, smiling slightly.

As a parent, college consultant, and former admission director, I have thought a lot about the ambivalent relationship to parents that is built into the transition from high school to college in the United States. As if by magic, our kids are supposed to morph from child to adult when they walk down the jetway to board the plane, or hop into the passenger seat, for that much-hyped trip from bedroom at home to dorm room at college. The whole transition to college apparatus — high school counselors, independent college consultants, college admission directors, and freshman orientation programs — tends to give short shrift to parents’ emotional and informational needs. The focus is the students; but often, we could better serve our students by better addressing the needs of their parents.

It is virtually impossible to work in this field without collecting anecdotes that demonstrate inappropriate, overbearing parental behavior. A parent should not write a student’s college application essays any more than a parent should write a student’s essays for English class. But we need to be more sensitive to the variety of connections between teens and parents, and cultural differences in parental input into major life decisions.

We miss opportunities when we construe parents as potential obstacles to their teens’ maturation rather than partners in that process. First, parents can be a tremendous support for their kids as they research and apply to colleges. Parents are capable of providing perspective and alleviating anxiety, particularly if they can identify which of their kids’ fears are unfounded or overblown.

Second, whatever conflicts may or may not exist in a family, parents know their kids better than admission pros. Their insights can help us be better guides to the students we counsel. Recently, the parent of a student told me that her daughter often becomes passionate about a particular idea or goal, and then drops it a few months later (common behavior for many teens).  That piece of information gave me a context in which to talk with her daughter about how much her current passion should guide her decision-making about where to attend college.

The message should be more nuanced than, “You may stop parenting now, but please send your check to the following address.” In fact, parenting doesn’t stop; it changes. It happens at a distance, and as a result, in more concentrated spurts. It happens without the day-to-day surveillance we may wistfully view as a lost luxury.

“Going to college” is not a single event, one moment in time, like moving into a freshman dorm, that defines the onset of adulthood; it is many moments that give parent and child multiple chances to redefine their relationship. The more we recognize that parents are participants in this process rather than obstacles to pulling it off, the better consultants, counselors, and admission directors we will be.

Although there is some variation among colleges in their instructions to students on the waitlist, most of them welcome a well-crafted letter that makes the case for admitting you if space becomes available in the freshman class. The letter should be respectful. If you begin with, “Dude, what were you thinking?” you will probably seal your fate as a freshman at another college.

What kinds of information should go in the letter?

First, important accomplishments and awards you have garnered since submitting your application. But what constitutes, “Important?” If it is meaningful to you, it is probably important enough to include. Your 4000-word extended essay on the mating habits of Australian wombats won, “Most Riveting Essay” at your high school. You are playing Lady Macbeth in the spring play. You were elected Treasurer of the Ponzi Scheme Society. In general, significant developments in your life are significant to admission directors.

Second, write persuasively about why the college is a great fit for you. After months of researching and applying to colleges, you should know some specifics about the college’s academic program and extracurricular offerings. What are you especially looking forward to doing at this college? How do you think you will contribute to the community? Give the admission directors a vivid image of what your contributions will look like. “My independent study project on the history of unionizing in the U.S. has inspired me to form a group of students interested in discussing the contemporary role of unions in state-wide elections at You-Want-Me-But-You-Don’t-Know-It-Yet University.”

A respectful letter that expresses your knowledge of yourself and the college, and explains why the two go together like fries and ketchup, is your best bet for making if off the waitlist and into the much-too-cramped dorm room of your dreams.