Dear Admissions Office,

I have to acknowledge — yes, I’m a stickler for honesty, and I have the references to prove it — that I am writing this in haste, because I must get back to my work with reading to disenfranchised lepers (We’re almost done now with “Crime and Punishment” in the original Russian, which I learned last year when I was teaching ice sculpting to original Russians in Siberia.).

I am writing to explain why I am applying to your hallowed institution, which has long been my “dream” school ever since I learned it would accept students who could only manage a C+ in calculus.

Why, you ask, should you be interested in my application and ignore the multitude of others who have claimed such significant accomplishments as having led their JV ping pong teams to victory while discovering a vaccine to cure occasional gastro-intestinal reflux?

Let me tell you, I answer.

Since I was eight years old, and saw my parents ignore homeless people on the street, I have committed myself to never being a homeless person. I had an epiphany that day — the first day I was able to use the word epiphany in a sentence. That epiphany was to work hard, buy expensive jeans and change the world so that no one would ever have to feel rejected by a prestigious university again.

You might ask, how have I fulfilled that mission over the last 10 years? It’s a good question. Thanks for asking it.

In fact, there are many good questions you might ask me if you had the chance to know me, which I hope you will. You could ask me, for instance, about the origins of the Irrawaddy River. But I digress.

Many of the answers you might find in my searing memoir, “Searing: How to Overcome Middling SAT Scores,” published just last year, and compiled from many years’ worth of my postings on WhatsApp. In this graphic tale of a young person dedicated to reading only graphic novels, I plumb the depths of my experience teaching sign language to signs, including close tutoring with “don’t walk” and “go.”

But my experiences are only prelude to what I envision as my limit-less future, a future full of buying long and selling short and ultimately making major contributions to the alumni association fund that’s housed on your glorious ivy-covered campus.

I don’t believe there’s anything that can stop me from achieving my goals and winning a Nobel Prize in Xbox, except perhaps a rejection notice from one of your part-time admissions readers who might not fully comprehend the anguish my parents would feel if I just get a form letter back.

As my third-grade epic poetry/Mandarin teacher — see footnotes at the end of this letter — so eloquently put it years ago about my potential, “This is a student who sees no boundaries and must learn to obey the crossing guard.”

I look forward to hearing from you soon and joining next year’s freshman class for the free bar and tasty hors d’oeuvres at orientation.