To all Juniors, Sophomores, and Freshmen, I have been lied to.
By now, you have heard that applying to college is a notoriously soul-crushing, time-soaking process that is half the reason senioritis exists. That much is true. The rest of what you might have heard—that your application determines your whole future, or is the biggest testament to your potential—is doing you a disservice. Many admissions officers, counselors, teachers, and friends have misled me to the conclusion that college admissions are all about me. So, if you were ready to trauma dump in your Common App essay, I’ll warn you now: they were never about you.
College admissions are hardly about the applicants. And, arguably, we can’t hold it against the colleges—they are businesses that shape classes that best suit their needs year-to-year, adhering to a process that is as strategic for them as it is stressful for us. That doesn’t mean that our hard work will amount to nothing, but it does mean that tying our self-worth to every submission is a zero-sum game. One that colleges will never lose.
So, if you’re starting a nonprofit that’s really just a website, planning to apply to an Ivy League school “because it’s an Ivy,” or joining a club only to pad your résumé, this article is for you. In my time applying to college and talking to people about applying to college, I believe the next generations could benefit from a healthier perspective I, and many others, severely lacked. This perspective has two rules.
Rule #1: Claim responsibility, not control.
Applying to college is a practice in self-efficacy—we are responsible for writing compelling essays, balancing class workloads, presenting ourselves authentically. That is in our hands. But, despite what the guy on Instagram Reels sharing “What Got Me Into Duke” wants us to believe, no single factor in an application guarantees an acceptance, nor significantly “increases your chances” of getting one. Why is this?
Answer: there is no formula! For applying to college, yes, for getting into college, no. Final decisions won’t hinge on our exaggerated amount of tutoring hours or the SAT score we achieved on our fifth try. Admissions decisions boil down to schools’ priorities that are beyond our control, like distributing financial aid or apportioning students to different majors. This is the fundamental error we high schoolers make in this stressful process—we grossly overestimate personal factors like talent or intelligence, over situational factors, like socioeconomic status or geographic location. For your well-being, break this habit.
When I was eight, I tagged along with my sister on her Stanford tour. I remember an admissions officer saying, “From our pool of applicants, we can build a class only out of valedictorians with 4.0 GPAs. But, we don’t want a class of perfect students. We want a perfect class.” In other words, we’re not evaluated in a vacuum, but rather placed in a puzzle. Because of that, our idea of a “qualified” applicant is subjective and falsely meritocratic. If you’re confused how the kid dumber than you got into your dream school, maybe the school needed another student in marching band, but you’re in Model UN.
It’s good news that we have no part in this balancing act, because it means that no decision is truly personal—you never get rejected, accepted, waitlisted, whatever. Your application does. So, when you hear back from all of your colleges, take them with equal grace. If it’s a rejection, it’s not a verdict on your worth. If it’s an acceptance, celebrate it, but remember: what we do in college says infinitely more about us than what colleges we get into.
Rule #2: Remember Rule #1.
To some, Rule #1 might be obvious. Of course colleges discern based on their priorities, not ours. Of course we’re not guaranteed an acceptance if we acquire enough leadership titles. But, the moment admissions decisions begin to fill our inbox, we often abandon these truths, scrambling to protect ourselves from disappointment. Here are common phrases suggesting your classmates might be sacrificing logic for anxious self-defense:
“It’s so unfair how he got in but she didn’t. She had a way higher SAT score.”
“College X is my college. Anyone else who applies to it is my competition.”
“They only got in because their siblings went to the same school.”
“She only got in because she’s not a white guy.”
“My essays were amazing. I have a great shot at getting in.”
“I got rejected from all of my reach schools. I must be doing something wrong.”
“How did they get in?”
Are you seeing the pattern? We throw out justifications for all acceptances and rejections, whether of our application or of others’. While it may help us cope, I strongly advise against this thinking. Not just because it’s inaccurate, but for a much larger reason I promise we will all forget: it is disrespectful.
Making assumptions of others’ college decisions is disrespectful to people who didn’t get into a college, and to those who did. Above all, it’s disrespectful to ourselves—because attributing successes and failures to our inherent qualities in an ungame-able process will leave us bitter and disillusioned. Perhaps applying and getting into college teaches us lessons outside of self-efficacy, or work ethic, or determination. Maybe it’s a practice in humility.
So, as you prepare your application, don’t do what I did. Don’t listen to the Harvard freshman on social media telling you you need a “passion project.” Don’t glorify a full calendar when every extracurricular will amount to one sentence in your application. Don’t try to be extraordinary. Be ordinary. Be intentional, honest, and above all, be supportive of others. Be someone whose application and admissions results reflect their values, not their anxieties. That skill will be necessary long after college.
You’ve got this.
