This time last year, we were yoked to our inbox and our mailbox. Once you have submitted all the college applications and sent the last high school transcript, it begins. We were spring-loaded in our anticipation. Like puppies, we bounced to the window at the sound of the mail truck pulling up in front of the house. Like spies, we scoured websites and social media accounts for news of when we might hear something. We had a high school senior in the house, and we were waiting for decisions.
Blissfully, there was some good news early. He was definitely going to college somewhere, but in his mind, on his carefully constructed ladder of higher education made from shiny pamphlets and U.S.News & World Report rankings, he had only made it to the first rung.
In retrospect, this is when some of the pressure should have been let out of the valve: his ladder was a standard he had constructed for himself after all. It could have been made of pixie dust and unicorn horns for how “real” it was. Sure there are elite colleges, and of course there are shoddy schools, but there are a multitude of solid choices that will get you to the real dream: the life you want. Acceptance into a university isn’t the finish line, it’s the gate, the access, to the education you need to craft your life.
But in the meantime, we waited. We just knew all the hard work, deadlines, and essays were going to come to fruition with a big stack of acceptances. Looking at all of the feeds blowing up–Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter–this seemed entirely possible. Everyone was getting in everywhere and to all the best schools! Why not us? My son was just as good, just as smart, just as hard-working. He deserved all the good things and the ticker tape parade, too. Or at the very least, admission into his top choice.
Well, nobody posts, “My kid was just crushed by a rejection email from his first choice school. Send chocolate stat!” but maybe they should. Here’s the thing that nobody talks about: most kids don’t get accepted everywhere. My son did not get accepted to his top choice. Not even a deferment. He was not wanted there. At all. Sorry, buddy, this place is just not for you.
The shock of that email stating plainly, simply, and so painfully that no, this particular option was off the table was a jolt: the sight of my son’s face crumbling, the pain of being truly powerless to fix it, my kicked-in-the-gut feeling. It was a “no good very bad day” here.
Sugarcoating is for suckers: this was the hardest thing I have ever parented through thus far, and I have potty trained five kids. There is little comfort that in college admissions, you really can say: “it’s not you, it’s them.” College acceptance is not just about merit. Experts routinely use words like “luck” and “mystery” to describe the process. When there are too many applicants that are just as good as you for too few slots, chance has to come into play. And those rankings everyone goes gaga over? There is all kinds of whispering that more rejections equal higher rankings for schools.
But logic doesn’t immediately take root in a heart recently broken. He grieved a little, Oh, yes, he did. And so did we. I still remember both Steve and I reading and re-reading the rejection email and saying, “did we read that right?” The disbelief on our part—how could they not want him— was counterbalanced by the flailing emotions of a teenage boy. It hurt to watch his flashes of anger mixed with the hurt of rejection and the disappointment of a dream permanently deferred. Then, after the emotional outburst, there was action. This was the biggest break-up ever. He deleted every email ever from that school, tossed all the correspondence in the trash, AND unfollowed them on Twitter. Bam!
Catharsis is a wonderful thing though, because after the purge he was ready to talk about some perspective. Whether you believe in God, fate, or the order of the universe,”the life you are meant to live will not pass you by” rings with truth and we hit that point home by sharing Ellen’s story. Decades ago, she was accepted into an Ivy, but even with the money they gave her, she would have been left with $56,000 in debt. Because she wanted to be a physician, the cost of medical school loomed on the horizon so she chose the full ride at the University of Maryland. At the time it hurt, but because of that decision, when she knew medicine was not the career for her, she could afford to quit. She now has the life she was meant to have as a writer, blogger, and social media specialist, with her college sweetheart and two wonderful daughters by her side. Even when a dream seems like the brass ring by society’s standards, it might not be the right one for you.
In the end, the real emotional turmoil of this college rejection was fairly short-lived. Within twenty-four hours, my son had pulled out of the nose dive. As he came up for air, he looked around at what he did have: the great colleges that had offered him spots. He started Googling their famous graduates and knew if he could be among these ranks, he was doing okay. Watching him move through these stages, I knew he was doing okay too. This not so shining moment had gifted us one bright thing: it revealed the man my son was becoming. I knew he was going to college before, but seeing him handle this first real and painful rejection with grace and dignity showed me that he was truly ready for this next step.
Now, half a year later, at a college that wasn’t his first choice, he couldn’t be happier. The community, the academics, the campus—they all fit just right. At the time, we didn’t say, “things happen for a reason” because that just hurts too much. But believing what is for you will not pass you by got us through. We allowed ourselves to be sad, but moved forward pretty quickly because the real dream of his future imagined was still very much attainable.
If your current reality mirrors our experience, we hope there is some comfort in knowing that while disappointment is a lonely place, you are most definitely not alone. This is the part of the process that doesn’t make it into shiny Facebook updates. With hard work, the life you are meant to live will not pass you by. Crossed fingers and good luck to all the seniors out there dreaming big dreams. You really will catch one. Just be open to re-imagining it.
Please share your story in the comments!
Erin and Ellen
Erin and her husband, Steve, are the parents to a freshman in college, a junior in high school, a freshman in high school, a seventh grader and a third grader.
Ellen and her husband, Frank, are the parents to a senior in high school and a freshman in high school.
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Check out our books, “I Just Want to Be Alone” and “You Have Lipstick on Your Teeth.”
