Every fall, high school seniors seem to develop a sudden fascination with each other’s college plans. Questions about essays, applications and test scores fly around. Everyone is eager to know where their classmates are applying, and no one is safe from the curiosity of their peers.
Take, for example, this one girl. She will stop at nothing to uncover your college plans. “So, where are you applying early decision? Did you finish your essays? What did you write about? Oh, what’s your GPA? Your SAT? What did you eat for breakfast the day you wrote your personal statement?! Your life story?” She’s relentless, drilling through each person like an investigative journalist on a semester-long caffeine bender—except her Pulitzer is your LinkedIn update. And heaven forbid you apply to the same school as her; suddenly, it is life or death.
Ask about her own college process, and she morphs into the master of vague responses. “Oh, I don’t want to jinx anything,” she says, while clutching her Common App login like it holds the nuclear codes. Press further, and she might deflect your question with an ominous, “You’ll see soon enough.” Of course, she’ll never reveal her dream school (though you overheard her whisper “Harvard” to herself last week), nor will she admit to any of her reach schools (but rumor has it she applied to 17 of them).
All jokes aside, this double standard is symptomatic of a harmful academic culture. Everyone has become so wrapped up in the stress of college applications that they forget the whole point of education–curiosity, learning and growth. Instead, it’s in a way, becoming a race of recommendation letters and résume padding, in which success is measured by how few people you “let in” on your process while interrogating everyone else. The selective transparency I’ve seen reveals the underlying fear that defines this culture: the fear of judgment, failure and losing the unspoken game of prestige. It’s a symptom of a competitive environment that equates self-worth with acceptance rates, and ranks futures based on universities.
In truth, the most valuable lessons aren’t learned in calculus or written in an acceptance letter. They’re in how we treat each other along the way. The stress of college applications is temporary, a fleeting chapter in the story of our lives, but the relationships you build, the kindness you show and the character you demonstrate during this process will always hold lasting significance. Beyond the competitive rankings and acceptance rates lies a truth that is often forgotten: college is just a place—a collection of buildings, traditions and opportunities. Let’s not lose our humanity–or our sanity–trying to get there. It’s true value comes from the people you meet, the lessons you embrace and the mindset you carry into every experience. As a wise friend of mine once said: “Not everything that sparkles is a 1600 SAT score, or even a Harvard sweatshirt.”
