Lately everyone is too depressed to read news about financial matters, so the Wall Street Journal is reinventing itself as the ultimate source of information about college admissions. Their latest piece is about rejection letters...both really mean and really nice.
http://online.wsj.com/article_email/SB124096471555766239-lMyQjAxMDI5NDIwOTkyNjk0Wj.html
1.THE CRUELEST - BATES
Surprising, the cruelest rejection comes from sweet little Bates in Maine:
"The deans were obliged to select from among candidates who clearly could do sound work at Bates."
2. THE MOST FINAL - STANFORD
The Stanford deans were afraid that kids would try to beg for a second chance, the way you can for the UC's.
"We are humbled by your talents and achievements...and although you are...a fine student...we are not able to consider appeals."
3. THE MOST HUMANE - DUKE
Duke hired a team of Buddhists to pen their rejection letter:
"I know you will find an institution at which you will be happy; I know, too, that the school you choose will benefit from your presence."
4. THE MOST EXISTENTIAL - HARVARD
Of all places, Harvard lets the rejectees know the truth - After you've wasted your youth on AP's and SAT IIs, it turns out that it really doesn't matter where you go to college.
"Past experience suggests that the particular college a student attends is far less important than what the student does to develop his or her strengths and talents over the next four years."
And...not in the WSJ, here's a quote from The Neurotic Parent's favorite rejection letter. It arrived in the mail of a friend on April 1st:
5. THE MOST SHOCKING - POMONA
"As you know, your daughter Olivia was denied admission to Pomona College. We feel compelled to inform you that this was due to information that her guidance counselor provided to our admissions department. We are concerned about Olivia's recent vandalism spree in a place of worship, and therefore cannot offer her a place in the class of 2013."
This turned out to be April Fools joke written by Olivia herself on "Pomona" stationery which she had created by scanning the font from her real rejection letter. After her poor parents recovered, they framed the letter and came to the realization that the kind Harvard admissions guy was right: Their daughter will go on to be a superstar, even though she didn't get into Pomona.
It was actually our Oberlin-bound DGC (Dylan-Ginsberg Clone) who happily gave up his Vassar space for the Santa Barbara girl.
These comments reflect a new trend that is unfolding for students who are admitted to their dream colleges from waitlists. Mere acceptance was once cause enough for celebration. But now many waitlist recipients feel a need to know the identity of the anonymous donors who made it possible for them to enroll at their reach schools.
With this in mind, the Neurotic Parent Institute has started a new foundation, Waitlist Donor Trace. Using cutting-edge research methods, we will locate the girl or boy who gave your child the gift of matriculation. And for a nominal fee, you can receive periodic updates about how your donor is faring at the better school that let him or her in at the last moment.
We are also starting a Waitlist Donor Bank. Top students can now be proactive in giving a lucky girl or boy their hand-me-down acceptances.
So, if you are someone like Mr. 2400, CJ's friend who just achieved a perfect score on the SAT, here's a simple strategy that could potentially touch the lives of thousands of students all over the world: Apply to eighteen colleges. You will probably be accepted at sixteen. Send in deposits to every college that accepts you. Then, when you get the call from Harvard or Princeton, you can provide places to sixteen lucky waitlist recipients. Not only do you get to go to a prestigious school, but you can also help other human beings in limbo, like the Middlebury and Emerson kids mentioned above.
This act of selflessness will take much less effort than going to Namibia to work with the baboons, and will give you the incomporable satisfaction of having made a difference in the life of an eleventh grader who has had to overcome the misfortune of having been born in 1990 or 1991.