By Rebecca Do
I finished submitting my college applications at 10:49 PM on the fourth of January — a mere couple of weeks ago. In many ways, I’m relieved; I feel like a big weight was lifted off my shoulders and I’m excited to continue life as normal without the burgeoning stress of college applications weighing me down.
But nowadays, I feel more stressed than ever. Every time an email regarding my admissions officer or new portal login information, my palms get sweaty and it feels like my heart is going to drop out of my chest.
After an unsuccessful early application round, I’ve learned to embrace rejection as a part of life. I was told by my band director (shoutout, Mr. Lai) to cherish this part of my life, from the tumultuous essay-writing process to both the acceptances and rejections.
In my essays, I wrote of unattainable dreams with unchecked ambition; I wrote of a future where I have enough power to stop the gentrification of Chinatowns and a future where I’m a practicing lawyer or an acclaimed orator or philosopher. But coming back down to the real world, I am left with dread not knowing what the next six months hold for me.
I don’t know what schools are going to accept or reject me, I don’t know the debt I’m going to be in and I don’t know what I’m going to do with a degree in Political Science and Economics. I know my long-run goal is law school, but I have no clue the steps I’m going to need to take to get there. I also talked a big deal about moving out of state in favor of a big urban city to get away from the stifling nature of California suburbs and Fountain Valley homogeny. What will happen when the only school I’m able to get into is within a 20-mile radius of my home?
I realize how mad and privileged this sounds. The thing is, I know that going to school here won’t be the be-all-end-all of my future career, but I’ve already crafted my ideal, big-city undergraduate experience down to the T. You’re telling me I can’t always get what I want?
But please hear me out! I’ve heard horror stories of people not being accepted into any of the schools they applied to. None. Zero. Zilch. The thought of it makes me upset for them, at the very least. I thought of what I would do if that happened to me, and I couldn’t even bring myself to finish the hypothetical. Call me a selfish idealist thinking that the applications I spent months on would get me somewhere I want to be.
This might not be a universal experience, but I know full well that I am not the only person going through this weirdly melancholic, transitional phase of post-application clarity where I’m eagerly awaiting letters, but also dreading the future.
I hope that my feelings toward the future — toward college and the next couple years of my life as I leave public K-12 education can resonate with some of you who feel the same.
