A Reflection On Getting Rejected from my “Dream” School

I hate Stanford, I love Stanford, I hate that I love Stanford…

In one of the summers during middle school, my family was on vacation in California and decided to get a head start on college visits. 

It was then that I developed an unhealthy obsession with one college, Stanford. No other college could beat the perfect weather, California location, and a beautiful campus. My middle school self didn’t realize that these were all fairly insignificant factors that couldn’t determine if I truly fit in or not. Regrettably, I instinctively knew afterward that I couldn’t fall in love with another college. 

Over the next few years, I would obsessively devour anything that had one hair related to Stanford. Stanford alums Kerri Walsh Jennings became more of an icon, Christian McCaffrey touchdowns were in my YouTube feed, Kelley O’Hara and Christian Press were my favorite USWNT players. On the academics side, their top-notch earth sciences department along with ample opportunities to explore the raw geology around captured my nature lover self. Then, my fixation on entrepreneurial ventures developed around the same time cementing startup hub Stanford as not just where I wanted to go, but where I needed to go. I’d get a good laugh from looking at my Google News personalized feedback then; nearly all of it was either chess or Stanford related. 

Looking back, it was obvious that my obsession with Stanford had confirmation bias written all over it. Since I decided that Stanford would be my dream, all the information I gathered supported my conclusion instead of the evidence leading to the conclusion. In other words, my approach to college research was the polar opposite of the careful scientific process I’d applied to countless experiments in high school. 

Fast forward to college application time, when my peers were busy dividing where they were applying early (you know who you are :P) I was set on Stanford. I didn’t care how many other people applied or whether that would lower my chances. I just knew that if I didn’t choose Stanford I would definitely regret that decision. What I do wish I did differently is to not broadcast where I was applying early as much as I did. I naively thought that it didn’t matter whether people knew or not but leading up to and after decisions, more people knowing meant an added level of stress that I wasn’t anticipating.

During that time, I knew of two good friends who also thought of Stanford as their top choice. Some people may have interpreted that as an awkward situation because based on past years, only 1 or 2 people have been accepted at North so the odds were heavily against us to have good results for everyone. Nonetheless, I’m so grateful that we didn’t let any of that create rifts in our friendships. In fact, I think we grew stronger by sharing the future ups and downs.  

Waiting for that Stanford decision felt like the longest month in my life. Once I found out they were coming out on December 6th I couldn’t sleep that entire week. It felt like my fate was going to be delivered to me that Friday. 

Opening the decision was complicated by the fact that I was going to be at a chess pasta party. Once there, I was fidgeting so much, constantly looking at my physical watch or my phone every minute believing that more time had passed. 

5:59 pm. 

Omfg one more minute, I kept refreshing and I decided to go into the dark dining room off to the side to have some privacy. Then, it hit 6:00 pm. I logged into my admission portal for the 50th time and the words View Update seemingly appeared out of nowhere. I held my breath as I clicked it.

My heart dropped completely as I read those words. I knew what a college rejection looked like but I still furiously scanned the next few lines in hopes of a deferral instead. Nope, it was a straight rejection. Before I’d mentally processed this heartbreaking situation, I felt my chest seizing up and hot tears welling up in my eyes. Unfortunately, though, my impatience cost me the chance to appropriately react right afterward. I had to stomach my feelings and rejoin the chess pasta party. At that moment, I wanted to let the universe swallow me up so that I wouldn’t have to face the people in the next room, my parents, and even classmates at school next week. I was dreading the look of pity that I thought would cross their faces as they learned I hadn’t gotten in. 

I spent the rest of the night in a dazed stupor unable to digest what just happened. After years of admiration and seeing myself at Stanford, it was complete bonkers that everything shattered in a few seconds. 

I finally got up and drove myself home. Once I got home, I ran into my parents’ arms and sobbed for what felt like hours but probably were only minutes. I knew it wasn’t personal, but it felt personal. I had poured hours and hours refining the notoriously long Stanford application only for them to slap a fat rejection in my face. Now, I understand that those few seconds changed nothing about my self-worth but right afterward, I felt so down that I thought I just wasn’t qualified for anywhere. 

It’s difficult to recall how distraught I was on that December 6th night and how much I wrongly cared about how others would react. I know now that even though I thought I was prepared for all outcomes, I really wasn’t. I surely wasn’t emotionally mature enough to recover from this heartbreak by myself. 

I reached out to so many people during the days after that I don’t remember everyone that I talked to. However, nearly everyone I talked to made me feel better in one way or another; if I talked to you, know that I’m so thankful for the bounty of support you gave me. I had a heart to heart conversation with Anne right after decisions came out and I’m still in awe of how much she supports her friends no matter how stressful the circumstances.  College friends Grace and Karen always believed in me after I stopped believing in myself. The constant repetition of messages such as “you’ll be ok” and my favorite, a variant of Stanford bashing(thank you Benji xD) slowly but surely etched into my thoughts. My parents were the biggest heroes, though. Without them, I’m not sure I would’ve had the fortitude to even finish my regular apps. I’m glad to say I repaired my feelings of self-worth that needlessly became attached to this whole college application process and made worse by me having a dream school.

Dream schools. It’s so easy to fall trap to the mentality that only one place is key to a person’s growth. I sure as hell did, and for 5 years! Of course, if things were different and I’d gotten in, I may very well be saying something positive about dream schools. I think I have a somewhat more nuanced answer than either extreme; dream schools are like a house of cards, you have a high chance of falling really hard and a small chance of reaching what seems like the pinnacle of your life. You can substitute dream schools for dream jobs or dream whatever, it’s all the same. The good news is that in either path, you will be ok. I was and countless others who’ve experienced harsher failures all are. 

I’d even say that I’m a stronger person because of it. The rejection gave me the freedom to finally consider other amazing schools that I was previously blind to. I had to reach peak efficiency and write an absurd amount of essays that led me on a journey of self-discovery of what my real values were. And, most importantly, this painful rejection made me truly internalize the fact that I would be fine wherever I ended up. 

I will be attending either Harvard or Yale this fall.