The Pyramid Problem, Part 1
College Admissions Are More Competitive Than Ever Before
In an earlier post, we talked about the double-edge method (no Pokemon-pun intended) and how important it is to specialize in order to stand out in college admissions.
The problem is, specializing, and succeeding in one specific subject area, is really. Freaking. HARD.
Competitions at the local level might not be that difficult to win, but when it comes to winning higher scope competitions, like sectionals, states, nationals, or even international ones, the difficulty only gets exponentially harder.
Take math competitions as an example. The number of people you compete with in your high school might only be 5–10 realistically. But at regionals, you might face 50–100 smart people. At states, hundreds of smart kids. National and international? God forbid.
It’s like climbing one of those rigged ladders at the carnival. You know, the ones that you have to precariously crawl across to win a prize. The beginning few rungs aren’t terribly difficult to balance on, but as you go further and further up, it only becomes more and more difficult. As you climb up the ladder of competitions, the number of spots and opportunities to advance only shrinks.
In other words, knowing that colleges are looking for an EDGE doesn’t necessarily give you a leg up in the college admissions race. “I know I need to win competitions and contests — but how am I supposed to win them? I’m not smart enough. I’m not talented enough. I don’t have the resources or training or teachers to help me get to the top.” I sure felt the same way when I was in high school.
This phenomenon and issue with developing an edge through traditional means has a name. We call it the Pyramid Problem.
What is the Pyramid Problem? It’s visualizing the phenomenon we just talked about as a pyramid; specifically, as the upright pyramid game.
Using math as an example of your competitive edge, we can view participating in math competitions as a game of ascending a pyramid. Think of the pyramid as one filled with people, where each level corresponds to a higher level of competition. The stick figures in the bottommost levels represent winners of local or regional high school competitions (think math leagues like ARML), while the stick figures at the very top represent winners of national and international matj competitions (think USAMO and IMO).
As you go up the pyramid of contests, one thing is clear: there’s fewer and fewer spots to win. While there are over 25,000 high schools in the US that could host local competitions, there’s only 50 state competitions, and even fewer national and international ones. As depicted by the size of the arrows going upwards on the right, going up each level only gets exponentially more difficult.
This is great for universities — they know by picking out the winners at the very tippy-top of the pyramid, they are recruiting top talent in that specific field. But it is tough for college applicants; there can only be so many state and national champions, and it’s a monstrous feat to be in those select few if you (a) aren’t a natural genius like the majority of people and (b) don’t have the supportive and necessary environment to nurture and coach you to the top.
We call competitions a zero-sum game. Like chess or swim races or Valorant or any other zero-sum game, if there is a winner, then there must be a loser. If someone wins a gold medal at a math competition, then that means someone must have lost. There’s a reason why so many high school kids grow disillusioned, depressed, and demotivated along this path. In short, when you play the ultra-competitive upright pyramid game, you are far more likely to lose than win.
But there’s hope. What if there was another way to develop a competitive edge? Another option with less competition, less cut-throatedness, and more and more opportunity as you go up the pyramid?
Enter the astutely named, upside-down (or inverted) pyramid game.
What if instead of doing competitions to develop an edge, a student focused on projects, nonprofits, or initiatives instead? Say, instead of competing in a local math competition, a student instead founded a local math competition to get other kids more into math? Now, the paradigm of building out this idea completely changes.
First of all, the stick figures in the pyramid no longer represent competitors. By developing a solution to a problem that had never been solved before, he or she is now the only one in that space. Thus, the stick figure competitors before can now be viewed as potential clients or volunteers/friends involved in the project. At the local, bottommost level, there might only be 3–5 interested kids that this math competition could cater to. But at the sectional level, suddenly there could be 30–50 kids who might be interested, and then 300–500 at the state level, 3000–5000 at the national level, and so forth.
All of a sudden, we are dealing with a positive sum game. Unlike the upright pyramid, the number of opportunities or spots at each higher level doesn’t shrink; it expands. Instead of now competing against tens of thousands of other high schoolers for a sliver of a chance at an international title, the student can now be the sole founder of a new international math competition, with chapters in Tokyo, Sao Paolo, Nairobi, etc. The possibilities are endless.
