“Dear Student:
Congratulations
That’s the ultimate goal, isn’t it? When you receive your acceptance letters at the end of the college application ordeal, there is that sigh of relief and the thought that you have finally gotten what you deserve.
It makes sense, because the Stuyvesant mentality is that if you are an intelligent, driven, hard-working student, then you will be rewarded after three and a half years’ worth of toil by an acceptance letter to Desirable University (you know, the names that grace not only the top of the U.S. News and World Report’s rankings, but also the flags that contemptuously stare at you from walls of room 407), and thus you will be set for life. And so you do all of the following: you become a test-taking machine and ace all things SAT, you study hard even while taking a rigorous course load and wind up in the top five percent of your class, you devote all of your sparse spare time to a variety of extracurricular activities and programs, you spend hours writing and proofreading essays before submitting, and you wow your alumni interviewers with your conversational skills and spunky personality. Because of all of this, when you are finally accepted to Desirable University, you think that you, Well-Rounded Student, are entitled to that education.
The problem is that these days being admitted to Desirable University isn’t enough. I was Well-Rounded Student, as a scholar-writer-musician-volunteer. During my junior year, I thought getting into college would be the hurdle; during my senior year, I learned the hard way that the race doesn’t end there.
Here’s my situation: I applied to a wide range of reaches, targets, academic and financial safeties; I was accepted to nine, waitlisted at four, and flat-out rejected from three. Just based on my results, I had narrowed my choices down to three dream schools, so I sat back and waited for the financial aid award letters to arrive. All of the officers my parents had talked to said that a middle-class family with our Estimated Family Contribution probably wouldn’t receive that much, but with a combination of federal grants or loans and me making some money on my own, it would be tolerable.
When I finally received those letters, I was shocked at the dollar signs and digits staring back at me. At each of the three, I was given a negligible amount in either work-study or academic stipend, and a series of unsubsidized loans (essentially, nothing that would really help my family pay for my education). There was no way my family could come up with enough money to cover $60,000 worth of full expenses each year. I looked at it as nothing more than a mistake, and shoved the letters into a folder, hoping the matter would work itself out later.
But later became soon, and I realized I had to take some kind of action. I did everything I could to remediate the situation, because I felt I deserved that big-name-school education. I contacted financial aid officers at each respective college (perhaps pestered is more appropriate) to see if there was any way they could reconsider my award. I wrote a series of appeals letters, explaining exactly what we could and could not afford and specifically why this was the case, offering to send them as much information and documentation as was necessary to verify the claims I was making. The long and short of it was thus: attending either of the schools would give my family over a hundred thousand dollars worth of debt after four years, and I could not ask my near-retirement-aged parents to take money from their life savings to fund my education, forcing them to sacrifice a livelihood which already was being made difficult by the high tax rate and cost of living that plague New York City residents.
Their response? Sorry, but we can’t give you anything. Times three.
Translation? Well, if you can’t pay, then we’ll take a wealthy private school kid from off the wait list and offer him your spot, because he can. And no, we aren’t sorry.
First, I cried. Then, I screamed bloody murder and punched the wall a few times and proceeded to cry some more. I felt the Stuyvesant dream slowly slipping through my fingers. I did everything that I was supposed to do and fought tooth and nail with tens of thousands of other kids to earn that spot at Desirable University, and I felt like it was all for naught. To think that they were willing to turn me away so easily in favor of a less diligent kid whose rich daddy could buy the school a new wing of the library (maybe even a whole new library) made me want to scream, “there’s no such thing as meritocracy!” I wasn’t sure with whom I was more enraged – Stuyvesant for setting me up with a dream that would be crushed, or the Desirable University-types who did the crushing.
What’s ironic is how they so blatantly deceive people. I remember attending a fly-in at one of the three colleges I was accepted to, where the director of financial aid said something along the lines of “We have hundreds of billions of dollars in our endowment, which is comparable to huge institutions, but we have a small class size – that means that if money is an issue, don’t worry about it because we can work it out for you.” Funny how not five months later, someone from that same office apologized for not being able to work out a deal that would make it possible for me to attend. The truth is, these universities are businesses that want to maintain their sizeable funds as well as their reputation of having a diverse student body, so most of the class is comprised of students from opposite sides of the financial spectrum. And at a time of huge economic downturn where the interest on federal loans to pay for college surpasses the rate on mortgages and the student debt loan crisis is the new housing bubble, it’s incredibly hard for students whose families are stuck in the middle to decide how much is too much, and whether the investment is worthwhile.
It didn’t help for me that my peers were all committing to their dream schools. I began to wonder, with jealousy and a bit of disdain, if they came from extremely low-income families and were being offered free or highly subsidized rides, or if they were a whole lot wealthier than I thought they were. As I spoke to more of my peers, though, I was hearing the same thing: “Oh, I’ll have to take out a bunch of loans, but the education from [Desirable University] is so worth it.” But the financial aid officers and college counselors told me, “You don’t want to graduate with that much debt; it isn’t worth it regardless of the school.” When you hear contradictory things like that, you can’t help but be conflicted.
For me, it was a catch-22 either way – I could either take on the debt for a brand-name school and pray to the deities of the job market that I’d get a job lucrative enough to pay it off (which is what many of my peers are doing, I learned), or I could graduate debt-free from a less prestigious school and hope that I’d get hired despite my not-nearly-as-impressive-but-decent undergraduate credentials. Then, even though my major is currently Undecided, I started throwing graduate school into the mix, which adds a whole new layer of complexity. All of it was way too much for me to wrap my seventeen-year-old mind around as I oscillated back and forth; it was like a war in my mind that I couldn’t win.
But eventually, after extensively weighing the pros and cons, I decided to kiss my idealistic view of Desirable University goodbye. I opted for a public university that would provide me with an extensive education for half the price tag (and allow me to graduate without a small suburban house’s worth of debt).
At first, I regretted my decision. Whenever anybody brought up the subject of college, I would get oddly quiet and there would be an awkward pause after which I’d mutter something about not wanting to talk about it. It was painful for me to have to answer questions about which Desirable University I would be going to with the name of my Chosen College. The thing that I hated the most though, were the trite comments like, “You’ll be fine wherever you go,” or “Hey, that’s a great school,” which were intended to make me feel better but only made me feel worse. I couldn’t let go of the could-have-been that was so obtainable yet unobtainable.
I’ll admit that I still have to convince myself every day that it is going to be okay. I wake up each morning and tell myself that Desirable University is severely missing out (while composing passive-aggressive messages to the financial aid officers in my head, of course), and that in the long run, everything I have done will eventually pay off. Judging by the fact that I refuse to rule out the possibility of transferring to Desirable University after a year or two, I’m still dealing with the problem of actually believing it.
But I also vow to myself every day that I’ll make it work. So I may be going to school with Strong Island lax bros and girls who are convinced that Queens is not part of New York City, but at least I know that there are some bright kids who, like me, are there because of financial reasons. I may not have access to a super-intensive interdisciplinary program my freshman year, but I’ll certainly get special treatment and make useful connections as a Presidential Scholar. It may sound a bit cliché, but where there’s a will there’s a way, and while I may not be sure of where it is exactly that I’m going to be in four years, I’ll find my own way there.
The long and short of it is that no, you don’t always get what you want – I didn’t, and believe me, it nags me on the inside every day. But with all the uncertainty in my future, it’s nice to know that my finances won’t be the thing that screws me over. So in ten years when Rich Boy’s father drops dead (from a heart attack after seeing the 8-figure digits owed to Desirable University for undergraduate and graduate studies) and leaves him penniless with tons of loans to repay, I’ll be living in a house that’s worth his debt, making money from the job that I got because I was the top of my class as an undergraduate and that helped me get into a top-notch graduate school. And I’ll be saving up so that my child can go to the Desirable University of his or her dreams.
This is a great article, but I find it troubling that you decide to take this angle at the end where you attack the “Rich Boy” and his situation. Surely you are thought to be more deserving of the spot he has; you were offered admission when we was given a spot only on the wait list. While I have no doubts you will be greatly successful–as evidenced by this wonderful article–you shouldn’t harbor resentment against the so called “Rich Boy.” The college system is fundamentally flawed, it is truly a shame that the most qualified candidates do not always go to colleges of corresponding merit, but this problem created the wonderful state school you are going to attend and will love. Though it would make sense for you to feel angry towards the Rich Boy for going to your “Desirable School,” his lineage has allowed for his parents to be able to pay for the school of his choice, a dream you sympathize with. It is one thing to recognize the system as flawed, and another to wish that those who are able to beat the system should get screwed over in the end, when what you want in the future, is what they currently have.
I realize that it was a bit of an over-generalization to use that stereotype, because there are definitely private school kids who could have been in my exact situation. But you can’t deny that in economically difficult times, the ones with money tend to fare better.
I don’t want them to get screwed over in the end. I’m just saying that an under-qualified person who is part of the conspicuous population of students who have gotten things handed them all their lives will not necessarily encounter the types of hardships and obstacles that hard-working middle-class students do. And if/when the time comes for the first type of students to fend for themselves, they may not have the mindset of diligence and persistence that the latter type has been developing all these years – skills that (I hope) will help students like me in the long run.
This is essentially what I hoped you’d say, and I agree by and large. The system of higher learning definitely needs tweaking to achieve a world of economic equality. While I agree with you on that point, I urge you to still keep an open mind regarding the people who “have things handed to them all their lives.” I’m not going to tell you these people do not exist, because there just are sons and daughters of CEOs who will live their lives with silver spoons in their mouths, kids who can choose which college they fancy regardless of level of qualification. I know of these people because I go to school with them. I urge you however, that these people are a vast vast minority even of the privileged private school scene. I attended public schools until 9th grade, have attended private school since, and the degree of difference in work ethic, persistence and qualification of my peers now, differs only marginally from my peers in public school. While it is unquestionably true that my private school peers may have plush second houses, nothing is guaranteed in the world of college acceptance, nothing is handed to people as you so imply. The mindset of diligence you believe gives the hard-working middle-class student an advantage is not exclusive to the public school student, because people in private school work extremely hard too, and are as qualified as their public school counterparts nine times out of ten. Privilege doesn’t imply laziness, lack of persistence or under-qualification. Again I want to applaud you on this wonderfully written article, and just want to caution you from making generalizations about people you most likely know little about.
Also having been from a private school, I do see thr angle Emma is aiming for. Many of these kids are genuine, good, kids, yet there are always the outliers – in this case, those that have too much money for their own good.
The sad part of this is that these kids are in for a rude awakening. They will not always have their parents money. They can’t always depend on others to push them along. This is why you, Emma, Will definitely have a great advantage over “them,” no matter what your major or college is.
Interesting article. I enjoyed the perspectives on it. You may or may not have heard this but although this decision may seem tough / make-it-or-break-it moment in your life, it’s not.
In fact, once you get to your Chosen University, this whole ordeal won’t even matter. And in 10-15 years, where you went for college / what your major was won’t make a difference either. Maybe a “huh. I see you attended ___” from an employer.
Either way, best of luck to you and your endeavours. The skills of a specialized high school graduate will carry with you far and wide. Believe me, I know that for a fact. And I dig the last paragraph. Cheers.
Emma, I’m going to tell you right now, I know that back in Stuyvesant, especially during senior year around the time college decisions are coming in and at the time of things like College Apparel Day, having that brand-name on your apparel shirt or above your name on the Stuyclopedia page seems like THE WORLD, it is EVERYTHING. I know I felt that way. Everyond did. But once your senior class leaves Stuy and once everyone starts their freshman year of college, where you go to school becomes trivial, because you will see that everyone, but in particular those who went to public colleges for financial reasons, is making something of themselves at whatever college they are going to, whether brand-name or not. The value of having access to the opportunities and prestige of going to a private top-tier school is only significant if you’re paying near nothing for your education. Otherwise, the value is marginal. To both your peers and the adults around you (family friends, educators, employers), the name of your college after you leave high school matters very little relative to what you’re doing with your college education/what you’re doing while at college. It’s not worth shelling out tens of thousands of dollars to get that quite fleeting nod of approval or impressed look from your Stuy peers and family friends at the brand name on your shirt. Once you leave Stuy, I promise you that you will see that people DON’T really care about whether you go to a brand name school or not (to be perfectly honest, I would say the exceptions are the Ivies), they care about what you’re doing there. I know in high school, ESPECIALLY Stuyvesant, what your peers think of you seems of the utmost importance, but once you’re out of that comparatively small, extremely specific world and are thrust into the huge, more diverse (in every sense of the word) real world, it all just becomes so trivial. You made the right decision.
Nicole, you are wonderful.
Sometimes I wish people like you had written a guide to Stuyvesant, filled with words of wisdom and earnest advice.
I feel like we could all use that sometimes.
Having just read this article, I (metaphorically) weep for you. Not because I feel you made the wrong decision, but because of my own situation. As someone who did everything in your first few paragraphs, but didn’t get into ANY colleges last year, I was forced to take a year off and reassess my situation. I took it in stride and resolved to make the most of the time granted to me (much the same way you resolve to be top of your class at your college; I applaud you for that. It’s very easy to just give up).
I come the similar middle-class family monetary situation as you, but I’ve been raised to believe, college (at least a good one) is worth every penny, and recent discussions within the Stuy CS Alumni group have strengthened this belief (more on this later). You cited two sources when talking about your decision making process, your peers and your guidance officers. Usually your guidance officers are right in this respect: you NEVER want to graduate college with tons of debt… Usually… But, remember, this is advice coming from people with only moderate incomes. And this applies to people with only moderate incomes. Now, I don’t mean to bash on the guidance officers; they’re wonderful people. But after reading your article, I don’t think you’re destined to become someone with only a moderate income. Along with many of your Stuy classmates (the second source you cited), I believe you will become one of the top in any industry you choose. And once you’re at the top, that hundred thousand dollars seems like nothing.
I just mentioned the Stuy CS group. One girl asked whether switching for financial reasons to another college would be appropriate. What I gathered from the majority of responses is a no. In the Computer world, at least, even the starting cash that you can earn by working at google or some comparable company is enough to cover most of the student loans. These are the high paying jobs you’re looking for.
So this year when I reapplied and was accepted to [desirable university], I knew I was going there no matter how much I paid. I know I’m going to be at the top of the food chain once I get out of college, and I have a feeling so will you. Money won’t be an issue for me once I reach that point, and I feel that’s the mindset you should take.
So while I personally disapprove of your choice, I completely respect and applaud you on making the right choice for working as hard as you can in the college you will be attending this fall. But just so you know, there is a strong possibility you will forever hold a grudge against anyone who goes to your [desirable college]. I know I, myself, will hold a very subconscious grudge against anybody that goes to Harvard.
Anyways, whether you decide to switch to your own [desirable college], or whether you find yourself happy at the college you’re at. Just know that, as long as you’re shooting for the big-leagues, and don’t make rash decisions, you shouldn’t have to worry about money.
As someone who goes to a Desirable University, my commenting on this feels wrong in a way. However, I’d like to respond to the person above me. I am thinking very seriously of becoming a teacher, which is not a lucrative job by any means. However, for me, saying “I don’t think you’re destined to become someone with only a moderate income” is not fair. While the money is an important and legitimate value, this statement implies that it should be everyone’s top priority. It is reasonably a very high one and I’m not saying that prioritizing it first is wrong. However, becoming the “top” in an “industry” like teaching does not lead to a situation in which “hundred thousand dollars seems like nothing.”
My plan for college is to get the most out of it that I can by learning some things about academics, some things about myself, and whatever else ends up getting thrown my way. I’ll figure out after college when it happens.
Though it seems not to be an issue for Emma anymore, I would feel guilty if I sat idly by while a commenter recommended to any reader that the best course of action is to take on tens of thousands of dollars of debt. Please realize that your advice might be taken seriously and you could easily ruin someone’s ENTIRE life.
I hope that anyone reading your comment notices that you applied to college and were not accepted, and now you are saying with utter surety that you will land a job that makes money a non-issue for you. This leads me to deduce that you have a habit of being overly confident while not taking proper precautions against failure. That’s fine as long as you are not trying to convince others that it’s the best course of action. If things don’t go your way (like they didn’t when you first applied to college) you’re in for some serious debt that will affect you in ways you probably cannot imagine.
Finances are not an easy thing to decide on and no one can quickly make an wise decision about anyone’s finances, even their own. It takes research and time. The mentality of “I can take on debt now because one day I’ll be FILTHY RICH” is extraordinarily arrogant unless you possess powers that the rest of us do not. It may also be the mentality that causes the average American to be over $15k in credit card debt.
This was my EXACT situation, down to every detail. I narrowed it down to two full price schools and BEGGED for aid. Unfortunately, no dice, and I’m just not willing to make my 60 year old father work any longer than he has to.
Thankfully, I received a good chunk of merit aid from a private school that is similar in quality, so I will be attending there next fall. It is a middle ground between Desirable U and Public Resentment U, so I am very pleased.
I still tell myself that I might transfer in 2 years and perhaps get into Ivy Desirable U. I’ll probably love my school and resist the urge, but maybe setting a 2 year ambition-benchmark will encourage me to work harder. I think I’ll work hard either way.
Know that your decision makes you a more prudent and mellow-headed adult. In our east coast neurotic society, we want our name brand, but intrinsically, that’s not where the value lies. This has been such a humbling process for me, an upper middle class kid, and while I hope it doesn’t happen to many more deserving kids, I know it will, and I’m already proud of how much they’ll grow.
Emma, I feel very badly that you have been so disappointed. I spent 20+ years in college admissions, including at an Ivy League school, and believe me, if it were up to us we’d give full scholarships to the kids we admit, but alas the financial aid office won’t let us! However, and I know this is hard to believe now, but you can be very happy wherever you’ve chosen to attend and you WILL have advantages as a Presidential Scholar that might not have been available to you otherwise. I am currently a private college consultant and I tell all my clients that there is *no* such thing as one perfect school, though of course we may have preferences. When you applied, you presumably selected schools that met your needs and preferences. Your selected school, even if it is not your first choice “Desired University”, can still offer you a great experience if you remain open to its possibilities. Incidentally, ultimately, it is better to save money now and use it in grad school, which will be far more helpful and influential in your chosen profession than undergrad. I wish you the best of luck!
This is so not fair! Education has become a monopoly!
Education was always a monopoly, that is why the wealthy holds all the power, and they have held it for a very long time.
I feel ya. This is pretty much exactly what happened to me last year.
Whenever I was toiling over studying for ridiculous amounts of AP tests and pulling an unhealthy amount of all-nighters (which later led to health problems, but that’s a different story entirely), I consoled myself by repeating the mantra, “Georgetown, UChicago, Emory” – my three dream schools that I dedicated four years of my life to.
So how could you blame me, really, when all three schools did, in fact, accept me, but pulled out their business-tactic cards when offering me financial aid? They all offered me barely anything to attend, shooting me their sickly saccharine smiles when I’d begged and pleaded with them, asking them if there was any other way, telling them that the only thing that had gotten me through high school was because I’d dreamed of attending their college. But of course, they didn’t care.
I’ve been attending a public university on a full scholarship, which has given my family pretty much no debt whatsoever. It’s as if I’m still attending high school, really.
At first, I was bitter and angry. I vowed to never work so hard for anything ever again. I adapted a victim mindset and let it consume me as I entered my first year of college.
However, it’s the end of my freshman year at my Not-Really-Dream College, and I can honestly say that I’ve learned to relinquish my bitterness. I’ve let go of the victim’s mindset, realizing that there were those around me in a similar situations. I’ve lost that entitled mindset that Stuy unfortunately ingrains into the minds of its students, and have learned to appreciate and respect people for the sum of their parts which is something that Stuy could’ve never taught me.
I think you’re much stronger than I was around this time of year last year, and I respect you immensely for it. Though it may totally suck now, I hope that you continue to see the brighter side of things as you continue to live on.
Best wishes to you! :)
Emma: I sincerely hope you take introductory economics in college, because you’ll quickly realize that there are only two universal economic truths: resources are limited; and incentives matter. Envy is a destructive force., in contrast.
In your essay, you acknowledge that you COULD attend your “desirable” college, but you are making a conscious decision that the cost is not worth the value. You are also suggesting that someone with more money in the bank is oblivious to cost. I can assure you that this is simply not true….rich people are not fools. We are making the same judgements about whether Harvard is worth more than SUNY … And if it isn’t, Harvard will not be able to compete for students. After all, colleges are ultimately businesses and are subject to the laws of supply and demand.
But any rational legitimacy to your argument is revealed as hypocrisy by your last paragraph…that you want your children to be the “rich kids.”. Yes, life isn’t fair. Yes, you don’t always get what you want. Yes, it’s better to be rich rather than poor. But don’t confuse the truisms with the fact that you had a choice to attend the desirable school, and YOU made the decision. Don’t blame the rich people who you envy. Look inwardly.
(ps I borrowed a ton of money to go to college. And worked in the dining hall to make money. And I was delighted that I had that opportunity…not resentful or angry.)
I do intend to take economics in college, but hopefully I will be able to place out of the intro courses with AP credit.
I actually talked to my AP Macroeconomics and Microeconomics teacher about this. And I did put thought into the decision. I simply decided that the marginal cost of having 120,000 dollars worth of loans (a good chunk of which would not be federal, and thus have an adjustable interest rate that would fluctuate, according to what I’ve been seeing, rise) for a Desirable University education was not worth the marginal benefit of getting a degree from that institution, because I could graduate from a public institution for a fraction of the cost and still get a decent education if I took a proactive stance on it (meaning, the opportunities may not be as great, but I would go out and find them). I’d like to think I’m a rational-minded consumer (even though that theory in itself has fallacies). Other people may disagree with which choice would personally give them the most utility, but that was mine.
I realize the last paragraph was a bit brash. I wrote this weeks ago, when I was still seething. And yes, I realize it is a little bit hypocritical. But people are multitudinous and think like that – my parents went to city colleges and wanted me to be able to have a better education; I may not have been able to get what I wanted, but I wanted to be able to save up enough so that my children could. What’s wrong with that?
Regardless, this article is kind of irrelevant now. In a strange stroke of fate or luck, I was accepted to Cornell University to one of the land-grant colleges, which is state subsidized. Yes, I will have to take out some loans to cover room and board, but in this case, that cost is not as great as what it would have been for the other schools and I have the benefit of graduating from an Ivy League institution.
I plan on working to make money to pay for my education too. Oh, and maybe taking a few more economics courses to improve my decision-making skills.
A real economist would understand that even if there are certain facts on the ground regarding choices, this does not make the situation “right”, nor good for society. And there’s nothing hypocritical about noting the unearned advantage of Rich Boy.
If we as a nation don’t want to get our butts kicked by others, we might do well to make sure that those with the talent get the top spots.
I am really glad this article was written. A fair number of students are faced with this dilemma every year, but they all feel like isolated incidents.
Last year, I was exactly in the same position as you are now. I had been accepted to some great schools, but received meager to no financial aid. Except from one [undesirable] school, which I applied to only because my parents wanted me to have a financial safety. By the time April 30 came around, I realized that there was no other choice but to attend the undesirable school that had awarded me a full scholarship.
College Apparel Day was torture. Any conversations about college with my friends (they were inevitable) left me miserable and on the brink of tears. I did not want to go college.
I wish I could say it got better once September rolled around, but it didn’t. My classes did not challenge me intellectually. Commuting to school five days a week was awful. I was working three days a week after classes, so there was little time left for socializing. And the program I was in, the one that provided the full scholarship, did not do much to create a sense of community among its students. I was alone, bitter, and unhappy.
I decided to transfer. And, this time around I got into my #1 choice: [Ivy] Desirable School. I am almost done with my freshman year of college, and to be frank, this year has not been great. However, I am a firm believer of “everything happens for a reason.” My time at this school has taught me patience and perseverance. If you work hard at something, you will move up. Sometimes change will happen slowly, at other times it will happen so quickly you’ll hardly be able to keep up.
It is not always worth it to rack up the debt to go to your dream school, but sometimes it might just be. I want to study a field that few colleges offer as a major. My current school does not, but the one I will be transferring to does. As far as I can tell, this is not the case with you, Emma.
I wish you the best of luck in college. I have no doubt that you are strong and willful enough to do great things in the coming years, no matter which school you attend. And in the end, everything will work out.
This honestly screamed to me as a first world problem. I feel like Stuyvesant has given a lot of kids a unjustified feeling of entitlement for scholarships toward “Desirable University” because you are “Well-Rounded Student.”
Reading the passage about you crying because you needed to (at the time) go to the state university honestly struck me as sad; why did you feel so entitled to that education that it would so adversely affect your mood?
I feel like Stuyvesant bred this elitist attitude among its students that doesn’t come off well to others. You looked down on the kids who could afford to go because of the amount of financial aid they got, but you ignore the fact that they probably worked just as hard as you to get admitted. The rich kids don’t necessarily get a free pass either; they more likely than not did not have legacy to get admitted. I feel like your envy in this situation came off as more of a whiny hypocritical complaint than an objective criticism of the financial troubles and preconceived notions you encountered before applying to college.
In the end, college is what you make of it. Going to the state school or going to a “desirable” school is not the end of the journey, but only the beginning of one. I think you are putting too much of your future into your admittance to your undergraduate college. I see that you have been accepted to Cornell, and I am happy for you, but just as junior year was not the end of your battle, Cornell will not be as well.
Oh believe me, I know this is a total #firstworldproblem. I mentioned to my friends how I should be glad that I’m getting a college education at all.
I’m very aware that Stuyvesant breeds this repulsive mindset and that looking back on it, it’s really awful – that was one of the points I was trying to make.
I never looked down on the kids who were going to their dream colleges because they received great aid packages. This was the case for many of my friends, and I don’t think they’re any less hard-working because of it. If anything, I was immensely jealous of them at the time. I do, however, concede that the way I targeted the wealthy kids was a bit unfair, no matter how valid the claim is.
I apologize if it seemed whiny. But humor me for a bit: if you had been in the exact same situation, wouldn’t you have been at least mildly pissed off? I know you will probably say no, that you are down-to-earth and rational, but come on…don’t kid yourself. At the time, this seems like the most important thing. I’ll probably look back on this column in a few years and laugh.
That being said, thank you for your words of wisdom.
Yeah, I realized that was one of the problems you tried to approach. I liked this article; it does open up another avenue of discussion and thought for the average Stuyvesant student to consider when they apply to colleges. I loved that you recognized this mindset and were trying to address it, but when one reads your article, it doesn’t seem like the topic is on this dilemma and addressing how it’s dumb, but more on how much it sucks to go to a state school. I dunno, I just felt like it was way too much about your misery and less about the bred illusion and the false dichotomy between a good education (Desirable University) and a bad one (State University).
hey j, how do you know the richer kids worked just as hard as emma to get in? admissions officers like to give admission to students who can pay full price or near full price. students who cannot pay as much and require financial aid have to make up for it, at least a bit. so it’s not equal.
and it’s not “entitlement”. it’s pride, man. it is legitimate, well-deserved pride.
How do you know that they didn’t? It’s not like they didn’t go to school, do their work, and get grades necessary for admittance. Universities still have to maintain their academic reputation; if they admitted a bunch of underachievers then they would not be desirable, would they? This kind of generalization about rich kids is unhelpful and screams prejudice.
And pride? I’m fine with pride. You can have pride, but when you start having an expectation for a college to give you financial aid when you’re middle class over a poorer student, when instead of going out and looking for (and applying for) merit based scholarships you sit tight and wait for the financial aid package… I call that entitlement. A false sense of entitlement bred by admissions officers and Stuyvesant culture.
Aren’t many top universities need blind? So Rich Boy’s ability to pay full tuition probably wasn’t a factor in the admissions process for many universities. Yes, they have money to pay for college, but no, they don’t have an unfair advantage in the admissions process.
Congrats on Cornell tho!
Get over yourself !!! This article is pointless I don’t see the need to be press to go to a school that u only pay for their name tag. College is college at the end of the day we all just going to be educated it doesn’t matter where you go to school is how u sell your degree. You should be happy at where you are. Class of 2016 !!!
Emma, you need to know something as you enter into college. This is something I learned at “Desirable School” that hopefully you will miss out on at a regular university filled with regular people, at least until grad school and after.
Rich kid is going to win. Rich kid is always going to win. The deck is stacked in his favor.
Rich kid is going to drive his BMW into his dorm parking lot, and everyone is going to want to be his friend. He’s going to have everything he could want and need, leaving his full attention to his studies. He’s going to do well because finances aren’t on his mind and he’s been raised to believe winning and achieving are the most important things.
Even if he doesn’t do well, he will still have connections that will help get him a good job. He will have chance after chance after chance to correct the mistakes he makes, unlike the rest of us.
That’s life. It’s not fair. You’re only seeing the beginning.
Emma, congrats to you for making a sensible choice. By going to a non-”dream” school, you’ll meet a broader cross-section of your generation. You’ll meet kids who have less money to spend than you do, and you’ll marvel as kids who didn’t get an excellent Stuyvesant education struggle and thrive, or fail. You’ll be amazed by how many people will fail.
Your Stuyvesant classmates think they understand the world, and diversity, because they live in New York City. They don’t. You’re going to be frustrated by so many of your peers at the non-dream college, because few of them will share your ambition and love of learning…but you’ll do well, you won’t be in debt, you’ll have a bright future, and you’ll have seen an America that your peers who go to Yale, et al., will never know.
Some in the Yale/Harvard/Chicago/Princeton crowd will think less of you in four years, but so what? I promise you, make the most of your Cornell years and you’ll understand your society better than they will, and you’ll be far more interesting than they can ever be.
I wish you well!
I was once in this same exact situation. Growing up my dream school was MIT. However, growing up in suburban Utah few, if any, really left the state for college. On a whim I applied to MIT and was accepted early action. However, being upper middle class didn’t lend to a generous financial aid offer; I ended up going to the local state university. I was pissed.
However, I did well in college. I was top of my class and when I graduated (after putting a significant amount of money into savings from scholarships, TAships, RAships, etc.) I was accepted to nearly every PhD program to which I applied. I will also mention that my grad school has been financed by competitive external federal fellowships.
My wife was in a similar situation and also ended up at the same college. She just recently graduated from Stanford Law School. Going to the state school didn’t hold her back.
In retrospect I am glad that I didn’t end up in Cambridge for undergrad. I am sure it would have been an incredible experience, but probably not worth jeopardizing my (or my parents’) financial future.
I will point out that the author ended up at an Ivy League school.