There are few things that can beat the devastating blow that comes with being rejected by your Dream School.
December 14th, 2017. On this date, I was supposed to receive my acceptance from Columbia University, which would cement the success and prosperity that was then obligated to occur in my life. This date was supposed to be the best day of my life, in every possible aspect. After weeks and weeks of researching and cyber-stalking, I determined that Columbia was the only school for me, the only school that I’d be happy in, the only school that would appreciate a unique character like myself.
Where I’m from, acceptances from Ivy Leagues are not common, and they certainly aren’t commercialized as an option by our instructors. As far as I can remember, I’ve always been deemed intelligent by my teachers, and so getting into a prestigious university was undeniably the objective—but the Ivy League was not. Therefore, my sudden interest in Columbia came as a shock to both my classmates and teachers. They quickly wiped their shock away, however, and replaced it with deprecating smiles.
“Aw,” their smiles seemed to say. “That’s cute. I wish the best for you.”
And truthfully, a lot of them really did want the best for me. As the weeks rolled by, and Decision Day grew closer and closer, I found a surprisingly large group of people who decided on their own that I was going to be accepted. My brain was riddled with self-doubt and anxiety, yet it was these people who constantly pushed and supported me through it all. Even though the Ivy League wall seemed impenetrable, I forced myself to believe that my adoration alone would be the deciding factor of my acceptance—and I forced myself to believe in my teachers and classmates, who seemed so heavily to believe in me.
I awoke on December 14th with a surprisingly calm disposition. Today is the day, I thought to myself. No more dreaming and no more hoping. Today, the fantasies fade and reality reigns. I will be accepted into Columbia University.
Reality truly did reign that day—and with its victory, I was vanquished.
There are no accurate enough words in the English language to describe the pain that I felt when I checked my admission decision. In one moment, I was a teenage boy with an endearing delusion of grandeur. In the next, all of my dreams were disintegrated and swept away, never to be achieved in this universe. When something like that happens to a person . . . There are no words to characterize it. It genuinely felt like my brain was being split open, releasing each and every fantasy that I so desperately wished would come true.
“Man’s rejection is God’s protection,” the Principal of my school told me, being one of the many people who rooted for my acceptance. “You have a bright future. You’ll be able to bounce back from this. These are the moments when your character is strengthened.”
At the time, I couldn’t bring myself to allow her words any meaning. I felt empty; my future didn’t feel so bright. After resting and reflecting, however, I felt a small wisp of fire light inside of me. It was the same fire that gave me the courage, despite the odds, to apply to Columbia. It was the same fire that all of my friends and family saw in me, that led them to somewhat believing in a future where I attended an Ivy League University. I wasn’t defeated; I wasn’t going to surrender to this.
The lessons we take from the obstacles that we encounter can be fundamental to later success, they say. I choose to believe in this. Now, more than ever, I feel ready to dive into the world of higher-education. Contrary to what I thought, my rejection wasn’t the end of the world. It was the beginning.
