By Lucy Chen '24
*Disclaimer: The views expressed in this article are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the student population, faculty, or SAS community.
The rejection letters I opened on April 1st, 2024 were among the many I had received from this year’s college application cycle. I’d reread that dooming phrase “we regret to inform you…” so many times that those words have lost their meaning entirely, turning into nothing but curved lines on a piece of paper vaguely resembling the English alphabet.
Funnily enough, it was not the first time I had faced rejection. Applying to prestigious summer programs in my sophomore year, running for officer positions, asking someone out on a date: rejection became a familiar companion of mine throughout high school. Yet, I was utterly unaware of how those accumulated rejections from the Early and Regular Decision cycles of the application process would serve as the ultimate catalyst for a humbling journey that led me to question everything I knew about school and success.
For as long as I could remember, I’d always had a clear-cut plan of how I was going to mold myself into the type of student who would stand out amongst others in the eyes of college admissions officers; fill my schedule with advanced courses, hold a leadership position in numerous clubs, play multiple varsity sports. I truly believed that if I could juggle all of these activities that I would have a chance at getting into a decent college. Of course, by the time I got to junior year, I realized that all of it wasn’t enough.
The college admissions process today is vastly different from the one I knew five to ten years ago. The number of college applicants in the US alone increases at an alarming rate each year. In a vast sea of students all fighting for the same spots at the colleges I applied to, I was but an insignificant drop caught in the current. When faced with such daunting odds, the chance that I, an average student at SAS, got into the top American 20 universities, were slim to none. I thought back to the countless hours of college decision reaction videos I’d watched growing up; the Hillary Piltners, the Kyle Tsais, the Nina Wangs….Beneath the tears of joy and screeches of disbelief at getting into Columbia or Harvard was an unparalleled level of dedication towards extracurricular activities and academics that dwarfed my own. I hadn’t known this then, but I definitely do now: the couple of clubs I led and awards I won were nothing compared to the internships and international recognitions that these Ivy League admits carried under their belt. These people were in a league of their own, outmaneuvering and outclassing their peers by miles.
For my fellow former college applicants reading this article, you’ll know that the Common Application is eerily concise. There never seems to be enough space in any of the boxes to fully flesh out your thoughts. To put it bluntly, on the Common App, our accomplishments are dwindled down to ten spots and 150 characters, our intelligence defined by a single fraction on the 4.0 scale, and our passion for learning repackaged into cold statistics. With such a limited amount of room to showcase who you really are to the admissions committee, the application process is not only a battle of excellence, but also a game of who can present themselves as the most vibrant candidate (granted, with the spatial restrictions of the Common App).
But trying to market yourself as an outstanding student is an experimental calculus in and of itself. Let’s be honest, admission officers are not looking for your most unfiltered, authentic self. Rather, they want an idealized version of you that seems real enough to be believable but also interesting enough to contribute something of value to their institution. Consequently, a significant number of exceptional students each year fail to get into their “dream universities” due to the fact that they fell short in effectively highlighting their merits in a manner that catered to the preferences of those institutions. Other times, however, despite having a perfectly bundled file and flawless statistics, students are still rejected. In those scenarios, the fate of that student solely lies in the hands of luck.
The infamous video College Admissions: Inside the Decision Room by Bloomberg Originals on YouTube best exemplifies this. Within the short clip, a group of admissions officers from Amherst College are seen going through thousands of applications submitted by current high school seniors. The officers flip through countless files and use a voting system to decide whether a student should be accepted, deferred, waitlisted, or denied; if the majority of people raise their hands, the student is admitted. One of the admissions officers was pulled aside for an interview later on in the video. At 1:15, he explicitly states that “there are times honestly where [he] is not sure why [he] put [his] hand up” and that he was “going with [his] gut”.
College Admissions: Inside the Decision Room by Bloomberg Originals
Are these the fruits we reap for our labors? At the end of four grueling years, is this what we traded our happiness for? Most high school seniors work unbelievably hard their whole lives for this moment, yet the admissions committee dares to say that they don’t even know why they admit certain students sometimes?
These questions have gnawed at me for the past few months. Looking back, I think I’ve finally found the answer to them. The college application system is inherently flawed. It is a mystery that has puzzled both high school students and college counselors alike since the dawn of its time. It seems that universities want us to be well-rounded students, but also lead an interesting life outside academics that is worth writing about. Adversity is celebrated, but only when one conquers it. Our passions are encouraged, but only when it somehow correlates with your academics. It is no wonder that we as applicants face an unprecedented amount of stress as we strain ourselves to become “college-worthy” students.
This frenzy for colleges, I think, quite ironically, goes back to the concept of the American dream––a topic that all SAS students have exhausted in our English classes. Gaining higher education, particularly from renowned universities, is believed to be the key to social mobility and financial freedom. A bachelor’s degree carrying prestige can open doors that would be difficult to access otherwise, especially for those from immigrant backgrounds. Thus, we are pushed by parental pressures and self-imposed expectations to excel at an early age.
The concept of college is an epidemic that has plagued our high school since the beginning of time. Our school fosters a competitive environment in which students constantly feel pressured to outdo their peers. This cutthroat ecosystem of overachievement is a double-edged sword. On one hand, such ecology pushes each individual student to be a part of something greater, to become leaders who inspire genuine change in the world around them. On the other hand, this unforgiving atmosphere promotes a toxic work culture whereby many students become trapped in a vicious cycle of rivalry with their peers, leading to burnout and an internalized conviction of inferiority.
Ultimately, most students will fall victim to this process. When served with rejection, we will inevitably begin to question our self worth and invalidate all our accomplishments over the past four years. In fact, this mentality had been so ubiquitous among my fellow classmates that I did not even realize how self-deprecating phrases like “Wow, I’m so stupid” or “I’m literally going to be unemployed because I didn’t get into college” had soon became the go-to words to say when people were handed a rejection letter.
Unfortunately, I am not writing this article to offer a solution for this process; I have none. However, I am able to say with confidence, as someone who has survived this harrowing ordeal, that the college you end up going to (if you choose to pursue higher education at all), does not define you. We live in an unpredictable world. It’s a reality that makes our lives both unsettling and exhilarating. Failure amongst uncertainty, I’ve come to realize, is what equips us with new opportunities. It challenges us to be adaptable, to be resilient, to navigate challenges with an open mindset.
The college application cycle is a fifty-fifty coin toss. I’ve seen an equal number of my peers get offers from their dream schools as those who were handed countless rejection letters. In the heat of the moment, it might feel like these letters are what determine the status quo: those who get to go to an elite college are superior to those who don’t. But after graduation; after walking across the stage to receive your well-deserved diploma; after saying those bittersweet goodbyes to your friends, you’ll come to know that none of it mattered. Soon, you’ll begin a new chapter of your life, likely far away from what is familiar. From there, you start with a clean slate and have the unlimited power to chase your passions.
Senior Editor: Richard Li '24
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