College applications

(newspaper editorial for my school, whether or not this glorified bitchfest gets published is beyond me)

Ask any senior on the newspaper staff the source of their worries and they'd all probably respond with deadlines and college applications. Yes, it's that time of the year again when counselors seem fully booked and student services crowded during office hours. At last, the realities of college awaits, and no amount of procrastination could slow down its impending doom.
I spent the minority of November scurrying between counselors and my laptop, searching for the college of my dreams, and the rest trying to complete their applications. If only admission was a "yes" click away, perhaps our anxieties may lessen as we're allowed time to evaluate what we want to do with our lives, rather than where we'll be accepted.

Acceptance seems to be the word that causes those restless nights, an idea that separates us from crossing the threshold towards a guaranteed success that generations before have instilled in ours. Yet colleges are stuck on a predetermined path demanding prospective students to come in manufactured packages with a complete ten year plan, together with a string of generic qualities of determination, ambition, and leadership to tie it all in a neat little bow, which would look lovely on their brochures for future parents seeking that ivy league prestige (and a fancy bumper sticker to match).

Perhaps I've grown jaded and cynical by this whole process, but I find it hard to imagine that Colleges, regardless of status, could critically evaluate the values and merits of an applicant beyond numbers and statistics. As if all our aspirations could be condensed into an eight-by-eleven frame, twelve Arial font, on how we overcame "so and so" tragedy and how we became the qualities they're looking for (read; determination, ambition, leadership) because of it.

As we muddle through winter break wearily peaking outside to see what our mailbox has in store for our future, let us re-evaluate what we've done these past four years. If the bulk of AP classes and volunteer hours we readily gave our lives away for was a way to enhance our learning experience or if it were just another use of ink to fill an empty space under the title "goals and accomplishments" to make our resume prettier. I don't know about you, but nothing will make a better belated Christmas present (and justify those lost hours applying) quite like an acceptance letter, preferably in a red and green encrusted envelope.