what getting rejected from almost every college i applied to has taught me
I spent the past four years of my life in the pursuit of academic validation. Getting good grades and perfect test scores, participating in school clubs and sports, as well as creating organizations, projects and businesses of my own, in my mind, brought me one step closer to attending the school I had dreamt of since I was seven years old.
The University of Pennsylvania, with its bucolic architecture and highly regarded business program had been the pinnacle of my motivation since I was young. Rather than telling my elementary school teachers I wanted to be an astronaut, or a princess or a vet when I was older, I’d tell them about the University I had grown to love.
But on Ivy League day, surrounded by 3 of my closest friends and my younger sister, I opened each decision one at a time — and got rejected from every single one.
I had saved UPenn for last; crossing off Yale, NYU, Duke, Brown, Harvard, Dartmouth, Cornell and all the others in red ink. With each rejection, I felt the ideals of a carefully planned future fall between my fingers like grains of sand. The lump in my throat grew and my shaking didn’t cease as I typed in my login for the UPenn portal.
My friends awaited anxiously with their hands on my shoulders, and the room was filled with so much trepidation it felt almost palpable.
As the rejection letter illuminated on my screen, my heart sank. All the grains of sand had officially been swept away by the tides of rejection — rejections from 19 out of the 24 schools I had applied to.
I have photos of me from when I was younger on the wall in front of my desk — photos of me smiling and laughing — and I recall looking at the younger version of myself and practically seeing the dreams of an Ivy League school and what I deemed a “bright future” in her eyes.
I think I honestly felt a sense of guilt more than anything. I had let my younger self down, and what I had worked for for so many years had ultimately been dismantled into some twisted form of failure.
For the next few days I beat myself up over what I could have done differently. Maybe if I hadn’t gotten that A- in sophomore year AP Biology, UPenn would have given my application a second chance. Or if I had re-thought my essay prompt, or chosen a different major, or done more extracurriculars — they would have accepted me.
I kept glancing at the old photos of me pasted above the table as days turned into weeks and the heart-wrenching frustration didn’t reside.
I looked within myself and my application to better understand what I could have done to simply be “better” in the eyes of these universities and colleges. I began to wonder if maybe their decisions were a reflection of my own achievements, character and life-trajectory.
It took almost a month for me to realize that this was the very perspective that went against almost everything I attempted to instill in both myself and others.
I couldn’t preach the motto “everything happens for a reason” on Girlhood or to those I knew when I myself didn’t subscribe to the philosophy.
I began to view the situation from a different perspective — which was honestly one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do since it was such a major part of my identity.
Starting my own businesses or writing novels or creating websites and organizations were things I had done because I loved doing it. Of course college was a significant motivator, but I realized that the passion that fueled those creations came intrinsically.
I had all of that knowledge, success and creativity vested in me without the existence of a potential college or university.
I had lived all 4 years of my High School fully: I had learned lessons, met and lost people, loved those that came and exited my life and I had so much fun in the process. I put time and effort into getting good grades and building an impressive resume, but I realize now that none of that has gone to waste simply because an Ivy League school didn’t accept me into their institution.
I carry all of those experiences and that work-ethic now, and will continue to do so after graduation — regardless of where I go to school.
I think that everything in life comes with attached lessons, and although I’m still in the process of learning the one that the college application process has granted me, I know this for sure:
Our worths are not defined by the schools we get accepted into, and I never should have put the immense pressure on myself that I did.
This experience has taught me that I need to do things for the purpose of fulfilling ME — not an ideal or dream I had when I was young.
I — and everyone else who is reading this — will be successful despite where they go or don’t go to college.
I look at the old photos of myself now and I see the dreams and passions and aspirations light my face like a star but I no longer feel guilt or frustration. Because those dreams, passions and aspirations are my own — completely separate from UPenn or another “prestigious” university and not bred by their existence in the slightest.
I will be attending the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill in the fall, majoring in business and creative writing and I no longer concern myself with the “What If’s” a future that I will not be living, because I have so much to be grateful for in this reality.
Sophia Rundle