When I began my freshman year of high school, I made it my own personal mission to attend a high-level, well-respected college as the culmination of my four years of hard work. Fueled by academic validation, I was eager to prove myself capable of getting admitted to a private and out-of-state college.
I saw every assignment, leadership position and extracurricular activity as a piece of the puzzle to get me there. I was certain if I put pressure on myself to be a strong academic and an involved member of the school community, it would pay off on my college applications.
I was infatuated with two colleges in particular: American University in Washington, D.C., and Boston University in Massachusetts. Both were located in large cities, ranked highly on national lists and seemingly checked all the boxes of my dream university.
I was obsessed with my grades and was often overwhelmed by my AP course load, SAT preparation, work, field hockey, choir, honors societies and club leadership positions, desperate to make my application as strong as possible.
I was certain the stress of overworking myself would be worth it once I received my acceptance letters. By my senior year, I had carefully cultivated a list of 12 colleges to apply to, and American and Boston still sat at the top of my list. I submitted my applications during winter break, and the waiting game began.
On an early morning in April, I finally received the email from American University that makes every prospective college student’s heart drop: my admissions decision. As the email loaded on my computer, seconds felt like hours and my heart raced as I awaited the answer to my future.
At last, the page opened and little digital confetti floated across my screen. I was accepted. The happiness I felt at that moment was indescribable. The next week, I received the same email from Boston University. To my delight and partial surprise, I was accepted there as well.
My hard work had officially paid off, and I was proudly going to attend a school I loved. I wanted my parents to celebrate with me, but they were quick to remind me even though I got accepted, attending wasn’t guaranteed.
As quick as they came true, my dreams were just as quickly crushed by the reality of our financial situation. As a naive 17-year-old, I didn’t expect any challenges beyond getting accepted into these universities. My middle-class family now had to come up with $80,000 a year for me to attend, and fast.
After weeks of back-and-forth pleading and desperation, my parents sat me down and told me it wasn’t going to work. I was devastated. At the time, I didn’t understand why my parents wouldn’t let me take out massive loans to fund my aspirations, and I couldn’t accept that they didn’t want to work past their retirement to help pay for my education.
My dream schools were officially just that: dreams. I felt I had worked so hard for nothing, and the last several years of my life were effectively wasted. I applied to safety schools because I felt I had to, but I never imagined a scenario where I would actually have no choice but to attend one.
I initially chose to attend Pace University in New York City, as it was an inexpensive option, but with pandemic restrictions and online classes, it didn’t feel like the right fit.
I wasn’t certain I wanted to transfer until one month before the Fall 2022 semester began. I opened the Common App in July, and Temple was one of the only schools still accepting applications. I applied on a whim, desperate to get back into classes, but I arrived at Temple fully prepared to transfer out by the spring semester.
However, I quickly realized that what I did in my time at school and my hard work was not a waste. It had paid off in the other things it taught me.
The strong work ethic I fostered in high school allowed me to develop academic integrity, a love for community involvement and a fondness for connection with my peers, all of which came to use throughout my college career.
I didn’t need to attend my dream school to do well or to be happy at college. I am validated by my name on the dean’s list, my work at The Temple News and the friends I’ve made during my time at Temple; all of which were made possible solely by my own personal qualities and hard work.
I used to think I would never get over the way my college decision played out. For so long I was plagued by disappointment and anger, convinced I was a failure because I didn’t end up exactly where I planned. This belief left me stagnant academically, socially and emotionally until I realized my potential was solely up to me. Freeing myself of these constraints allowed me to finally enjoy my college experience and learn to love where I’m at.
I was holding myself back by placing such an emphasis on a dream that didn’t truly determine my capabilities, and I now know I’m defined by my actions and accomplishments regardless of where I am. When I graduate I’ll receive the same degree, free of colossal student loan debts, and be proud to say I made my mark at Temple.
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