Ten Tips on How to Get an A on an Essay

I think it’s long enough past the actual university school year that I can post something like this. Now, I’ve been marking essays for just three years, but I’ve been writing them for a lot longer, and, thing is, it wasn’t until I started marking papers that I really understood why the ones I’d written were doing well. This is a Catch-22: you don’t get asked to mark papers unless you do well on your own, but unless you mark papers, you don’t get a sense of what really makes a TA or course marker go “Aha! A+!”

So here are ten things I’ve learned about what makes a top-grade essay from all that writing and marking. Just in case, if you happen to be someone I’ve marked, I’m not talking about any specific paper of yours or your friends; I’m talking about general trends I’ve noticed over time.

SIX BIG, IMPORTANT THINGS:

1. Answer the question you’re asked. This is number one. The only excuse you have for pouring out whatever you know about the buzz words mentioned in the question is if you have no idea how to answer it. And believe me, this is what the marker will assume if you do.

Essays and essay questions are usually assigned not just so you can show what you know but also so you can show that you can think about what you know. True, you need to research or study so you’ll have something to write about, but if all you give the marker is information, you’re missing half the assignment.

In other words…

2. Theses are not optional. The point of an essay is to convince the reader of some proposition. Your entire essay should be structured around this, and you should be able to sum it up in a sentence or two.

It should answer the question you were asked as specifically as possible. For instance, if you’re asked: “Compare apples and oranges. How are they similar? How are they different?”, a bad thesis is “Apples and oranges are similar in some ways and different in others.” A thesis like this doesn’t tell the marker what the essay is going to be about; all it says is that the writer doesn’t really know what he or she wants to say and is repeating terms from the questions.

A good thesis is “Apples and oranges may seem similar because both are fruit, but they differ in levels of tanginess, in peel colour and texture, and in native regions of growth.” Not only does it give the reader a clear idea of what you’re arguing, it tells him or her what’s coming up next and shows you’ve thought about the question well enough to be able to give a clear answer.

3. Don’t talk about Fight Club. You heard me.

4. Essay markers are stupid. Not usually. But pretend they are.

Why? Because when writing an essay, it’s easy to forget that you’re writing for someone else who isn’t making the same assumptions as you. This can manifest itself in a lot of ways: imprecise vocabulary choice (whatever, they’ll know what I mean); strange sentence structure (but all the important words are there, right?); and bits left out of arguments.

The last is the most serious. Most arguments have a logical structure:
A. If you write clearly, your TA will be able to follow your argument.
B. If your TA can follow your argument, you will get a better mark on your essay
________________________________________________________________________
C. If you write clearly, you will get a better mark on your essay

If any one of A, B, or C were missing, this argument wouldn’t work. But what I often see in papers (my own drafts and others I’ve marked) are arguments like the following:
“If you write clearly, your TA will be able to follow your argument, and you’ll get a better mark on your essay.”

It seems like there’s nothing wrong with this example, mainly because B is pretty obvious to everyone: yeah, if the TA can follow your argument, you’ll get a better mark. In this particular case, it doesn’t need to be said.

But usually it does need to be said.

5. Quantity is not quality. The page limits are there for a reason. I know this feels like a dilemma between a rock and a hard place: you feel like if you write too little, the marker will think you didn’t do any work, but at the same time, everyone’s telling you not to write too much. That’s because what the marker(s) are usually looking for is a good idea argued succinctly and clearly.

Being able to express yourself well in one paragraph rather than three shows greater understanding of the material: you know what’s important, you have sufficient mastery of the subject to avoid repeating ideas, and you’re confident enough in your own work that you’re not desperately trying to stuff the space with as many words as possible.

(Yes, markers can tell. Free bonus tip: if you must stuff, don’t do it by starting your essay in a way that feels like your opening paragraph should continue “… I’m Patrick Stewart. Join me for the next hour as we explore the mysteries and magic of <your subject>.” eg. “Since the dawn of time, humankind has enjoyed eating various kinds of fruit. Apples and oranges have been around for millennia…”)

6. Look before you leap. Plan. Plan, plan, plan. You don’t have to do it on paper like they make you in grade-nine English, but you do need to have all your ideas organized before you touch your pencil or your keyboard. Know what each paragraph is about and where it fits into the whole. See the skeleton of your argument before you begin to fill in the skin and muscles. Nothing in your paper should be there because it’s the only thing you could think of as you were writing it.

If this is a non-test situation, plan some more by revising before you hand it in.

THREE LITTLE, IMPORTANT THINGS:

7. Penmanship is not just for elementary school. If this is not an exam, type. If this is an exam, and you know your handwriting is awful, double-space. Nobody will grade you down on purpose for having bad handwriting, but it’s hard not to get annoyed when it takes you fifteen minutes to decipher one line, and it’s easier to take that distancing step back that allows you to find faults in the argument and style. The only time not to do this is if it conflicts with this tip:

8. You are not a special snowflake. Follow the instructions. If they say to single-space, do it. If they say to use 12-point font, do it. If they tell you to use Chicago style for your bibliography… you get the idea. I know this is difficult, because it usually doesn’t matter – until the one prof who thinks it does and lowers you two letter-grades because you made your margins 1/4″ too small.

9. Hitler is not your friend. (Unless you are in a course that deals specifically and explicitly with the Holocaust). I know it’s really tempting to compare whatever you’re trying to prove is immoral to the Holocaust, genocide, or colonial atrocities, or to use these things as thought-experiment examples in philosophical arguments, and I know they make really powerful rhetorical flourishes, but RESIST THE TEMPTATION.

First, there’s always the chance that whoever’s marking your paper will find it inappropriate and offensive. But second, and just as importantly, 99.9% of the time, when people put Hitler in their arguments, it’s as lazy shorthand for something else. The Holocaust, Darfur, world poverty, and other large-scale horrors are effective rhetorical devices because they evoke strong emotions. It’s okay to evoke emotion in an essay, but there needs to be more to your argument than that.

If what you mean is that we have an intuition that punishing people for something they can’t control is wrong, or that efficient methods are not necessarily morally justifiable ones, or that marking individuals as different from the general public is a harmful action, then say so; don’t compare it to a hot-button issue and hope the marker will understand.

ONE BIGGEST, MOST IMPORTANT THING OF ALL

10. Follow your heart. If you can, find something to write about that makes you passionate. Turn the question on its head and look for interesting ways to take it. Enthusiasm and creativity both show: make your paper stand out from the dozens of others in a good way, and your TA will remember you for brightening their day.

Really.