Confessions of Two (momentary) College Rejects

By: José Luis Salinas

Every year on November 1st, tens of thousands of applicants submit their early college applications to their dream universities, hoping, against all odds, that they’ll receive an acceptance letter in December. If these applicants are anything like myself, they’re very likely to be disappointed. I’d always dreamt of attending an Ivy League university and getting lost in the beauty of New York City while I was at it. I was obsessed. I memorized every single fact about it that I could, even its deepest, darkest secrets. My obsession got so severe that I wouldn’t be surprised if I knew more obscure facts about the university than its very own admissions officers. This year, my early decision university received over 6,500 applications, more than any other early application cycle in its history. A few below 500 were accepted, and I was a part of the other 6,000 who were, for one reason or another, not admitted. Every year on November 1st, tens of thousands of applicants submit their early college applications to their dream university, hoping, against all odds, that they’ll receive an acceptance letter in December. If these applicants are anything like myself, they’re very likely to be disappointed. I’d always dreamt of studying in a particular Boston university, a non-Ivy, but a prestigious institution nonetheless. Frivolous as it may sound, I’d already organized my shopping carts, every jacket, every sneaker, every scarf that I would wear. I envisioned myself in Boston. I lived the preppy life of a stressed-out college student. I was happy. I emailed my admissions officer back and forth, developing a close relationship even, and I was ready to receive the letter that would make it all come true, the letter to make my future certain. Then, it arrived. I was deferred. I felt betrayed, and what’s more, I could feel the ground beneath me shattering with every step I took like it was my heart I stood on. My admissions decision was much less dramatic than your first narrator’s, mine was a maybe, his was a cold, sharp “No.” Nonetheless, it hurt just as bad. It took me three minutes to internalize what the words on my screen revealed to me. I was in shock. I wasn’t hurt, I wasn’t pained, I wasn’t suffering, I was just perplexed, and maybe that’s what shocked me the most. Put simply...I didn’t care nearly as much as I thought I did. Maybe in a way, I was relieved. I was no longer legally bound to attend a university that didn’t offer any major that I genuinely liked or a city that, even when I didn’t want to admit it, scared me a bit. Nonetheless, I was scared. I was convinced I would have at least been deferred. I didn’t feel worthy of an ED rejection, the type where a college is absolutely sure they wouldn’t want you in any situation. Apparently, I was worthy. After all, they had nothing to fear. They had received enough applications to fill their freshman class four times in one month. They had nothing to fear for the regular deci-

sion cycle. I quickly turned to my application, trying to spot any mistakes. They became clear to me, but they didn’t seem to justify the response I received. I just wasn’t the right fit. I’d been disingenuous with myself, and although I didn’t know it, the admissions committee surely did. I knew of a place that gave me everything I wanted, even the prestige, but it wasn’t an Ivy, so I was quick on leaving the college for my regular decision applications. Had I been more grounded, more humble, less judgmental, and more honest with myself I probably wouldn’t be writing this essay tonight. The same night it all happened. I still have 18 other colleges to apply to this month, and although the Class of 2021 cycle has been exceptionally selective, as it has been exceptionally large, I remain positive. I’ve been given a second chance.

That’s the journey. The only way we can truly discover what will become of our post-high-schoolgraduation lives is by taking on this nerve wracking, often tumultuous ride. In doing so, we’ll become so much more in touch with what matters to us-our aspirations and our identity. It’s a journey that rewards introspection and self-reflection, not obstinacy. Understanding that the higher education institutions we’ve wanted our whole high school lives are perhaps not what we need, not where we’ll access the education we desire, and maybe are just not right for us is a frequent lesson of this process. It’s all so uncertain. Our instinct is to try and resolve this next step of our lives so that the sheer certainty of our life will go unbothered. After all, to this point, the biggest milestones of our entire lives have been decided exclusively by our parents. This next