Reflections on my admission (to Harvard)

As I prepare to enter the job market, I think back to my college applications. Like many of my classmates, I applied to Harvard on a whim, without particularly wanting or expecting to come here.

Apparently, they liked something about me. Between my high school documentary and my sarcastic admissions essay (mocking the stereotypical admissions essay), maybe they saw me as a rebel. Did they expect me to challenge the status quo? Did the admissions officers predict that I would become president of a student organization on campus, and then leader of a nonprofit? Have I lived up to whatever potential they saw in me?

Or, on the other hand, did they predict that my big dreams would become modest ambitions? That I would put in three “social justice” hours a week, and take a comfortable job after graduation?

Either way, it’s not in their hands. It’s up to me, and in some ways that’s harder to face. The admissions officers gave me a place to loiter for four years, in the hopes that it would be an enriching experience. Or that, at the very least, I wouldn’t screw up their statistics too badly.

Now I need to get myself somewhere.