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I got rejected from my dream college, and it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me

NYU rejection

Photo by Abigail Meyers

December 15, 2021. 

I watched the clock all day. 4 p.m. could not have come any slower. My dream school, NYU, was releasing my admission decision, which would determine the trajectory of my future.  I had applied Early Decision; if I got in, I’d be fully committed and packing my bags for New York City. 

My freshman year grades had been slightly below what NYU was looking for, but I had committed myself to show academic and personal growth. In my sophomore year, I earned A’s and a couple B’s, pushing through the sudden change from normal school to an online school experience caused by COVID-19. The next school year, I received only a single B as I traversed the challenges of an untraditional junior year experience; I remained involved in my extracurricular activities, even picking up some leadership roles along the way. In the blink of an eye, I was at the peak of the college search process. I showed so much interest in NYU that I think I annoyed the admissions office.

Throughout everything I did, it was my number one goal to see “Congratulations!” on my NYU decision letter. Before I knew it, I had submitted eight college applications — with NYU being the most important one.

Finally, the day came. I was in the car with my mom, on the way to a doctor’s appointment. The day moved painfully slow. But finally, it was 3:59 p.m.:  One minute left…  With my best friend Jess on FaceTime, I watched the clock change to 4 p.m.. I refreshed my portal, and a conspicuous box showed up: “VIEW YOUR ADMISSIONS DECISION.” Here we go.

Anxiously, I clicked on it. Looking everywhere for that one C-word, I zoomed in on the first paragraph: 

“It is with regret that I must inform you we are unable to admit you to NYU this year.” 

I looked over at my mom, who was anxiously awaiting my verdict. In the midst of processing everything at once, I croaked to her, “… I got rejected.” On the phone, Jess gasped, dumbfounded. My entire friend group, and almost everyone I knew, were convinced I was going to get in. Jess was at our other friend’s house, so I was able to break the news to even more of my friends. They were as shocked as my mom, who told me, “I really thought you’d be getting in today.”

 I texted the news to other friends and my college counselor, hung up the phone, and immediately started crying. I cried until my tear ducts were empty, ignoring the messages of sympathy and encouragement to explore my other options.. I felt terrible about myself for getting my hopes up, and even wanting to apply to NYU at all. Despite the fact that I had other college options, all I could think about was NYU. But within a few hours after my rejection, I had reluctantly accepted that I had to put NYU out of my mind and seriously consider my other options. In a matter of days, my college process took a total 180.

One of the eight colleges I applied to was Simmons University. I had been aimlessly scrolling around Snapchat’s map feature one night, looking into different cities I could picture myself living in for college. Navigating over to Boston, I zoomed in on Simmons. I’m so grateful I found that hidden gem nestled right by Fenway Park; it was probably the total opposite of NYU as a tiny, historically women’s college in Boston. On December 20, I got a text from my mom: “You got something from Simmons.” Below it was a picture of a package. It was bulky, and had “Look inside…” printed in large, bright lettering. I knew I was in before I even opened it.

I opened the package and put on the hat that had been included in it.

If NYU had never rejected me, I wouldn’t be writing this. I wouldn’t have a friend group who bonded over a mutual love of Trader Joe’s, and we wouldn’t be planning weekly game nights. I’m sure I would have had fun at NYU and all, but I know now that Simmons is where I’m meant to be — with a price tag significantly lower than what I would’ve spent going to NYU.

So thank you, NYU, for rejecting me. When your door closed, the door to Simmons opened — and I couldn’t be more thrilled to have walked through it.