To those teens and their loved ones who have placed their worth in the hands of a college admissions officer, we are here to remind you that you are so much more than an acceptance letter.
The Square That Defined Me: Jen's Story
My high school had its own version of the Instagram commit page before Instagram even existed - a bulletin board boasting a mosaic of senior names and the college they planned to attend. It lived in a heavily trafficked hallway where, multiple times a day, thousands of teenagers passed by with an insatiable curiosity to find out where their peers would be going. I lived in a community that instilled the importance of my name attached to a university’s name. The small square had an unspoken meaning that carried a heavy weight. I still have my square decorated in my college’s colors.
I believed one little square defined all the hard work I put into high school. I applied but was not admitted early decision. In December of my senior year, I watched my friend's names populate the board. Yale. Williams. Harvard. Brown. Penn. I watched, holding my deferral letter in my hands, questioning what was wrong with me. I waited until the spring for my square to appear, and when it did, I felt like I couldn’t participate in the prestige parade in the same way as my peers. The university name was posted, and little did I know, this core memory would shape my values, impacting my career choices and my intentions for my future family. I walked through the next two decades of my life slightly less confidently. Looking back, my story led me to major in cultural anthropology (which I would never change); I think in part to understand people’s life stories and how the culture of one’s life, down to the smallest moments in a high school hallway, could send rippling effects through their lives.
As a school counselor, I see the weight that my students carry. While I solely cannot change the relentless pursuit of prestige, I am working to shift the narrative for future generations. It’s time we celebrated college acceptance for the right reasons. Let’s teach our students to define what is important to them and discover universities that share those same values. Let’s make an Instagram page that celebrates students’ discovered values and their authentic identity. Let’s skip the prestige parade. In fact, let’s protest it.
Rolling Out the Red Carpet for All:
Jared's Story
One of the most powerful lessons I have learned as a college counselor happened in 2010 when I was working for a non-profit organization in Philadelphia. One of my students was anxiously waiting to hear if she had been admitted early to Yale.
Together, we made a plan. On the day decisions were released, we would use a code to share the results. Our plan was to go for ice cream. If she arrived at my office and said “vanilla” I knew that the results were not what she had hoped for. “Vanilla” meant that we wouldn’t talk about it, but we would walk to the closest ice cream shop and feel our feelings as we ate three or four scoops. “Chocolate” meant that Yale said yes. We would still get ice cream, just with a little more pep in our step as we walked down the block.
I’ll never forget the day she came to my office, stood by my desk, and simply said, “Chocolate.” I screamed. I jumped out of my chair, gave her a hug, and danced around my office, cheering. We ate ice cream and celebrated her accomplishment. She was my first student to be accepted to an Ivy League university. The lesson came less than 48 hours later.
One of my other students popped by my desk.
“Where’s my ice cream?”
“I’m sorry, what do you mean?” I replied.
The student reminded me that she had been accepted to the junior college in our area the week before. She asked why she, too, didn’t get hugs, cheers, and ice cream. I felt so small in that moment, deservedly.
That day, I learned a powerful lesson, one I share with my graduate students every year. I now roll out the red carpet for every student. Every achievement matters. We shouldn’t only applaud our students when accepted to colleges that society has deemed “prestigious.” It’s time we shift the narrative and help our students see that they are worth so much more than an acceptance letter.
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