Universities love for students to share their authenticity, and Redditors and teenagers love to point out that authenticity is a slippery word that admissions officers cannot reliably identify.

More than 100,000 applicants to New York University write responses to the supplement “why do you want to study at NYU?”

I’m waiting for the day that will never come when an applicant writes a sincerely honest response.

Given that 34 percent of NYU undergraduates report binge drinking—below the national average, LiveWellNYU reassures—and 65 percent engage in sexual intercourse, it would be unfair to penalize our hypothetical applicant’s authenticity.

“I’m going to be real with you. I’m here to party hard and ‘collaborate’ with a tremendous diversity of cute classmates and seductive strangers in the City that Never Sleeps! I researched your website and saw ‘Learning’ listed as a Value. I’m glad we’re on the same page when you write underneath: ‘We recognize that students will make mistakes and poor decisions. Oftentimes, these missteps are opportunities for growth and development.’ I can assure you I will manage my time very wisely with ample opportunities for growth and development.”

That response will never be written because college essay questions have an implicit courtesy bias.

Students give a more polite opinion and disguise their true feelings so as not to offend. At least when you’re writing an AP Government paper for a teacher with strong political views, you know your audience and exactly how to flatter. College admissions adds a layer of complexity because your reader is almost always anonymous.

I’ve only had one client ever admit in private that partying was what they were most excited for in college. That’s remarkable given many of us who attended universities spent much of our time doing exactly that, including me. I wager that there’s a non-zero possibility your alumni interviewer or admissions reviewer might be sipping a glass of wine or two while piling through their record number of applications.

The pandemic exposes the disconnect between what students write in their essays and the realities of young adults living away from home. It’s comical, if disheartening, even tragic, when universities nationwide haphazardly opened for in-person classes for Fall 2020.

Many reversed their policies days or weeks after students arrived on campus, sending students home to Zoom U or live under lock and key in dorms. Rather than reflecting on their policies and rethinking the entire summer they had to prepare, many deluded administrators pointed fingers at college students.

Students are doing what they’ve done since at least Prohibition and the advent of the modern fraternity a century ago: party without adult interference or oversight.

In Boston, Northeastern University made headlines in early September for expelling 11 students without a refund for violating social distancing and health protocols. Universities need butts in the seats and “student-athletes” on the field to sustain their business model. The admissions madness must continue uninterrupted.

I acknowledge and am readily aware of the harmful consequences of alcohol on the developing brain, such as an increased tendency for risky behavior, correlation with drug usage, and myriad other social problems. Risky behavior hasn’t done my own neurology many favors. NYU and most universities are doing and should do more to curb a binge drinking culture, especially during the pandemic. Yet the point remains. Admissions offices expect polished, totally unrealistic presentations of teenagers still forming their sense of self.

These implicit expectations force students to adopt illusory superiority, where they overestimate their desirable qualities and underestimate undesirable qualities relative to other people.

There is an added pressure for applicants to present themselves as the absolute best at whatever it is they’re doing, whether their portrayal reflects reality or not. I see resumes with Model UN descriptions that could give former American Ambassador to the UN and current USAID Director Samantha Power a run for her money.

The college essay format forces students who already don’t write well to fit their still-evolving life experiences to match lofty ideals. Unrealistic expectations incentivize students to hyperbolize their accomplishments while sidestepping their (many) flaws.

Consider these virtues and values incorporated into various university Vision Statements, in no particular order:

Authenticity, grit, tenacity, zest, courage, curiosity, integrity, dignity, entrepreneurial, critical thinking, artistic rigor, risk-taking, self-awareness, empowerment, globally engaged, discovery, grace, honor, ambition, balance, creativity, intellectual breadth, excellence, purpose, accountability, adaptability, equity, conscientiousness, self-control, compassion, charity, empathy, social justice, citizenship, sportsmanship, maturity, kindness, faith, reverence, wisdom, tolerance, and humility. Or whatever else the university’s public relations team can cook up, such as a word that I’m pretty sure the big brains at Stanford concocted: interdisciplinarity.

Like the courtesy bias and illusory superiority, admissions expectations produce a social desirability bias. Students overreport their desirable behavior and underreport their undesirable characteristics. I’ve helped students tailor their stories to every one of those criteria—including, it turns out, interdisciplinarity—lest some incredibly ambitious students feel overwhelmed trying to address the glossary of human virtues in 650 words (or fewer).

A secondary consequence is the pressure students feel to link everything they’re writing into their major or connect their major into pro-social values such as service or philanthropy. These pressures produce a sea of Computer Science or Finance majors writing difficult-to-believe essays about how search engine optimization or credit default swaps will save the world.

YouTuber Jack Liu presents his admissions file acquired from the Michigan Ross business school. One of his admissions readers criticized him because “he never mentions any desire to make a positive impact through business.” In contrast, another reader offers a glowing recommendation because “he has a very clear interest in business.”

At least Michigan Ross subjects students to multiple readers to limit bias and scoring inconsistency. It isn’t sufficient, it seems, for the admissions high priests to enjoy or want to major in something for its own sake. Everything must be presented from a socially desirable angle.

Any decent college essay guide will suggest visiting the Vision Statement to see what a university claims to value so that you can adjust your varied essays accordingly.

What’s a prospective student-athlete applying to Kenyon College supposed to do when presented with fourteen compound phrases and at least two dozen virtues? Universities might counter that they’re unique in their values and which applicants they seek. I accept that different universities have varied cultures and environments.

But why does a given school’s unique personality require multiple essay topics to find those that fit their purported value system? The resume and transcript may be a better reflection of interests, skills, and hobbies.

Law schools have a wide range of personalities, values, specialties, career pipelines, etc. However, they do just fine to identify well-fitting students for their programs without onerous essay requirements.

What seems implausible and ridiculous in the context of graduate school admissions goes unquestioned in undergraduate admissions to elite American universities. No other college system in the world has such silly essay topics.