I remember my first Collegewise student who had an incurable case of namebranditis.
Stanford was the only school he could envision himself attending. In his mind, if it wasn’t going to be Stanford, it had to be a school that was just as prestigious. And I knew after just one meeting that this was going to be a problem.
He was the consummate good kid. Smart, hardworking, and polite—all the tools a student needs to be successful. But while he earned almost entirely A’s in high school, he had consistent B’s in his math classes. He scored in the mid-1200s on the SAT. Those credentials were good enough for him to be a certain admit at hundreds of colleges. But they just weren’t going to get him admitted to schools that deny droves of seemingly perfect applicants.
Still, at every meeting, he asked the same questions about how to improve his chances of admission to Stanford and “colleges that are just as good.” It didn’t matter what I said or did to try to get him to see that he deserved better than the stress and uncertainty that would come with hanging his hopes on a short list of colleges that admitted fewer than 15 of every 100 students who applied. He reluctantly added some more realistic schools, but only because of my urging, and he never could muster any excitement for them.
All those reach schools he insisted on applying to said no. The only “good school” (his words) that said yes was Tufts.
Now, Tufts is—and was back then—no slouch in terms of selectivity. But it wasn’t Stanford or the Ivy League. To him, that meant that Tufts just wasn’t good enough. And he was heartbroken.
The good news is that, as is almost always the case with admissions decision disappointment, once he stopped looking back and started looking forward to everything that was waiting for him in college, he perked right up. He bought the sweatshirt and registered for classes and threw himself into life as a Tufts Jumbo. He invested all that innate work ethic and character into carving out a remarkable college career for himself, earning top grades and enjoying a very successful stint on Tufts’ sailing team.
Four years later, he graduated and went to medical school. Today, he’s a happy and successful pediatrician.
What if he could have glimpsed into his future while suffering from namebranditis back in high school? What if he could have seen how much learning, growth and fun were waiting for him at a college that he felt at the time was beneath him? And most importantly, what if the crystal ball had shown him the future proof that his career dreams were all going to come true, even without the admission he craved from one of the nation’s most prestigious colleges?
There’s nothing wrong with having a dream college or two. Take your best shot and see what happens. But remember that what you do in college will be more important than where you do it. Your future career may not be certain, with or without a magic crystal ball. But your success and happiness will not be dependent on an admissions decision from a prestigious college. If you could glimpse your future, you’d be certain of it.