Getting Rejected from My Dream School: A Personal Story

It was March 31st, the day that my potential college’s decisions were to be released. I sat frozen in front of my computer, waiting for the online portal to give me the green light to see what my fate was going to be. I had been rejected by Barnard three days before, and the last three schools I’d applied to were just a few minutes away from rejecting me as well. I glanced down at the letter from the other school I’d applied to: Fordham University at Lincoln Center; my safe school. Thinking nothing of it, I stared down my computer screen one last time before the portal said the magic words: Check Your Decision Here.

My heart raced and I fumbled with the track pad, trying desperately to monitor three tabs in Google chrome. Columbia University was a no. I tried not to be disappointed and closed the tab only to be confronted by yet another decision. Harvard was also a no. Fighting back tears I closed that tab as well. My heart dropped when I saw the open portal for Brown; my dream school.

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I visited Brown when I was a rising junior in high school. My brother (a recent Columbia graduate) had told me to pick the schools I’d wanted to visit and figure out when I wanted to go. Knowing I wanted to be in a city school, I immediately starting going through the plethora of college emails I’d been receiving since January to find schools. I drifted around different college websites and lost myself in words I didn’t understand, like concentration and CORE, until finally deciding on six schools: BU, BC, Columbia, Barnard, NYU, and Fordham.

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We would leave my home in rural New Jersey on August 10th, come back on August 19th and by then, I was going to have my dream school picked out. While I prepped questions for the information sessions I knew would follow, my brother called and told me that I should visit Brown (a school I only knew because Emma Watson went there). After some bickering over timing and location, I finally said yes and we signed up for the tour and info session on that Thursday.

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Brown ended up being the first school I ever visited, and I immediately fell in love. To me, everything was perfect. The campus felt like a real college campus. They had a mall ten minutes away, their CORE was very minimal and gave me room to explore my options, the tour guides were amazing and helpful, I could go on for hours really, but I knew what it was. I’d found my perfect school! The rest of our college visiting continued on and I couldn’t help but be bored. BU seemed too stuck up for my taste, I didn’t like football enough to go to BC, and the NYC visits were rescheduled for another month. All I cared about was getting into Brown University.

Fast-forward a year when I received an email from Fordham offering me a fee waiver for their Early Action program. I shrugged and began my application; it was my safe school and I figured a free application couldn’t hurt. After a lot of crying and aggravation with my common app, I finally finished my essay and contacted my counselor to get everything together. My first college application was in and I was wrought with fear. December 15th I received my decision. I was accepted into the Fordham Class of 2019. My parents were excited and made sure to mention it on Facebook at least five times that week. I posted an Instagram photo and forgot about it.

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Now, back to March 31st. I stared at my computer, finger hovering over the track pad. I had to see my decision even though I knew what it was. A small part of me held onto the hope that maybe I was wrong and my dream would come true, but as I tenderly clicked the link in the portal, I knew what was going to happen. Unlike my other rejections, this one didn’t hurt. I immediately sobered up and wiped the tears from my eyes. I sat down on my bed and stared up at the band posters looking at me expectantly. I reached over to find my phone on my end table and brushed my hand on a paper – my acceptance letter from Fordham. Fordham Class of 2019 wasn’t sounding too bad anymore.

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The nice thing about getting rejected from every school you applied to except for one, is that you don’t have to worry about deciding. Even so, I still wonder what I could’ve done in high school that could have gotten me into Brown or Barnard. I kick myself at night for not studying for my SATs when I knew that I should’ve, or for missing homework assignments in my English classes. But when I really think about it, I know why it worked like that. I am in love with Fordham. Despite the construction outside of my dorm window at 3 am or the thermostat that keeps going up to 81 for no reason, there is nowhere else I’d rather be. I’m at my real dream school now, and sometimes I forget that I didn’t want to go here. It’s funny how these things work.