• Graham Price, 46, was excited when he got accepted into Oxford University.
• When he heard about the fun his friends were having at other universities, he grew envious.
• He decided to drop out of Oxford so he could go to a university where he could have a better life.

I picked an unusual degree: classics. Only about 20 of the 166 British universities, including Oxford and Cambridge, offer it.

While I attended a private school that encouraged college applications to Oxford and Cambridge, there was no parental pressure to attend university. Nobody in my family had ever done so.

So, when my teachers asked, which prestigious university I was more interested in, I was shocked. Both schools were never on my road map.

I applied to Oxford, and my offer came through.

I loved Oxford at first

I'd fallen in love with beautiful Oxford after visiting several times. I pictured myself cycling past the ancient spires or feeling at home among the books of the famous Bodleian Library.

At first, that dream came true. Oxford is a place of ceremony. On matriculation day, I was dressed in academic gowns with mortarboards.

I looked around and thought, "I can't believe this is actually happening. I'm here!"

There was the other side I never imagined: the unrelenting workload

Pre-Oxford, I loved studying and translating ancient plays, poetry, and other literature. But Oxford was next level.

It all started with holiday reading the summer before my freshman year. None of my friends at other universities had holiday reading, but I had to read three times the equivalent of all the Latin and Ancient Greek I'd studied for my entire two-year A-level. My friends were out enjoying summer while I was stuck indoors reading Homer's "Iliad."

This intensified once I started my degree at Oxford. I'd compare my experience to my friends at other universities, who'd email me saying what fun they were having going out, partying, and socializing — in addition to their studies.

I was mostly stuck in my room, studying frantically in a desperate attempt to keep up with the relentless workload.

I started feeling jealous of them and exhausted by the speed at which I was expected to read and translate Latin and Ancient Greek texts. I had very little work-life balance. It robbed me of the joy I once felt studying these subjects.

I asked myself: Do I want to be mostly holed up in this small bedroom for the next four years?

I decided to transfer out of Oxford during my first year

My answer came when I began dating a guy from another university. He'd tell me how he and some fellow students had gone to the beach, had beers, and built a fire.

That's when I realized I'd picked the wrong university. I wanted to look back on this as one of the best times of my life before the world of work beckoned, so I decided to leave during my first year.

I was quite nervous about my decision. Everyone was saying, "Are you crazy? You can't leave Oxford!"

My tutor was aghast. She tried to persuade me to stay at Oxford by changing my subjects. I told her I wanted to study the same subject at a different university.

I was resolute. I started a classics degree from scratch at Swansea University the following year.

Transferring was the best decision I could've made

Life became so much more enjoyable. Swansea's course was far more manageable than Oxford's one. I hit the ground running and was able to take on extra-curricular activities, which enabled me to thrive and grow as a person.

I started learning Welsh and added it to my degree. I joined a gym. I became a Student Union Lesbian, Bi, and Gay officer and have carried a love for diversity, equality, and inclusion work throughout my career. Best of all, I got to have fun — disorganized, spontaneous fun. All stuff I didn't have time or headspace to take on at Oxford.

It boosted my confidence to make such a momentous decision that turned out so well.

No job interviewer really cares which university you attended; they care what relevant work experience you have. But when managers have remarked on it in interviews, they often say it must've taken tremendous courage to leave Oxford like that. So, it has actually worked out as a career advantage, too.

The offers and details on this page may have updated or changed since the time of publication. See our article on Business Insider for current information.

• I graduated from Oxford with my master's degree, hoping I could land a full-time job.
• I applied to hundreds of roles and all of them rejected me.
• To save on rent, I'm now a pet sitter who stays at strangers' houses.

To say I was elated when I graduated from Oxford with a master's degree is an understatement.

Nestled in the graduation halls, beneath centuries-old frescos, donned head-to-toe in dramatic black robes, we grads listened joyfully as emphatic speakers told us about the big, successful lives that awaited us.

Now, after nearly 17 months of unemployment, it all rings hollow.

I began my job search three months before finishing my degree; like many other foreign students from the US, I hoped to find a job in London right after graduation so that I could get a work visa.

I made it to the final round of interviews for several positions, only to be turned down at the last stage. When I asked for feedback, the answer was nearly always the same: "You were great, but there was just someone better." While the job rejections stung, I was still convinced the right role was going to magically work out; it would just take some time.

I had to fall back on the gig economy to make ends meet.

I needed a way to make ends meet in London

I became increasingly stressed about finding work. I had basically depleted all of my savings just getting through grad school, and I had very little to spare in this waiting period. I applied to more and more postings, hoping that my master's degree and three years of professional work experience would qualify me for an entry-level job. For the most part, I heard nothing.

The UK has experienced a cost-of-living crisis over the past few years, which has increased the prices for everything, especially rent. I knew that if I wanted to survive in London, I would have to think outside the box.

I had heard about people using house sitting as a way to find housing for free but didn't really know where to start. I'm a huge animal lover and have taken care of animals for most of my life. It sounded like a perfect exchange: I could avoid paying rent while also spending time with cute animals.

Thankfully, I had a few more months left on my student visa, so I decided to take the chance.

I became a nomad in London while house- and pet-sitting

I downloaded pet-sitting apps and joined Facebook groups. I downsized my life and lived out of a backpack. Every few days, I'd pack up everything I had and traverse London public transit to my next home. I moved all over the city, from Camden to Croydon to Notting Hill to Newington — and just about anywhere between. If a sit fell through last minute or I had a few days between homes, I'd crash on friends' couches.

Housesitting pushed the limits of my adaptability: You never really know what you will get. As much as you vet the sits beforehand, nothing really prepares you for what waits behind the front door. On some of my sits, the animals and I became immediate best friends. We'd cuddle on the couch, watch Netflix, and go for late-morning frolics in the park. One of the dogs even joined me on a Hinge date (He didn't vibe with the guy and peed on his backpack. There was no second date).

On the other hand, some of my sits have been some of the most hectic experiences of my life. Chaos became my routine. In between walks and feeding schedules, I'd ferociously hack away at job applications even while a needy Spaniel constantly shoved his squeaky toy in my lap.

Even though my days were hectic, I cherished the routine. The dogs got me out of the house and enjoying London's greenspaces. It helped stave off some of the feelings of depression and hopelessness that so often plague job seekers, even if only for a short while.

While my housing was taken care of, I still had other bills to pay so I freelanced on the side.

Unemployment is starting to affect my mental health

Once my student visa ended in the UK, I continued pet-sitting around Europe, especially Greece. I'm still doing it back home in the US.

I'd be lying to say these long, drawn-out job-hunting days haven't fuelled my nihilism. Some days, it's hard to get out of bed, knowing that I'm doomed to repeat the same day over again, like some LinkedIn-dwelling creature, cursed to endlessly scroll job boards and write cover letters that no one will ever read.

I look around at all my former classmates — these wonderfully brilliant, successful people with fancy jobs and bright futures — and wonder if I somehow fell through the cracks. I fear that, somehow, I am an outlier.

Despite the chaos, transience, and uncertainty, I am thankful for my pet-sitting gigs. Taking care of animals has given me a purpose. I became these animals' caretaker; their routines became central to mine. Even when things felt stuck and hopeless, I could always count on my animal companion to put a smile on my face.

• When I graduated from New York University with two degrees, I thought I'd land a job quickly.
• But a few years out, I'm still unemployed and only worked multiple unpaid internships.
• Thankfully, my father financially supports me and my life in New York City.

I graduated from New York University twice. The first time was when I earned my bachelor's degree in 2023; the second was when I completed my master's the following year.

I enrolled at NYU because I thought attending a prestigious institution would secure me a job or give me a leg up in the job application process. I could not have been more wrong.

As a writer, I'm still struggling to find a full-time job that pays the bills. In the meantime, I'm relying on my father for financial support.

The job search has caused me a lot of stress

After graduating with our bachelor's, many of my friends dove into the workforce; however, I was determined to get a master's to add an extra pizazz to my résumé. I wanted to earn an additional qualification in the hopes that if I landed an interview, I could negotiate a higher salary due to the further degree. But it hasn't helped.

I dedicated time to a rigorous program and still do not have a stable freelance or salary position. It's draining and beginning to weigh on me mentally. My anxiety is starting to pace up and down the corridors in my head. I can't help but judge myself.

I look at my friends who are accomplishing big things in their careers, and I feel left behind. I have a budding sense that I'm not good enough and lack a significant part of emerging adulthood.

While I am exceedingly proud of my friends and forever will cheer them on, my inner child mumbles, "What about me?"

Thankfully, my father helps me financially

While I persist in my career search, my father financially supports me — a fact I am eternally grateful for and quite embarrassed about. He pays for my New York City rent, which is no small price.

When I tell people, "I'm a writer," there are a few generated responses. While individuals find it remarkable, the question of "How can you live in Manhattan then?" eventually comes around.

It's awkward to say my father supports me when I am almost in my mid-20s, but I would rather be embarrassed and pursue the career I want than be miserable in a job I loathe.

My father raised me to be an avid reader and to appreciate the arts. He became my champion when I expressed my dream of being a successful writer. Thankfully, he hasn't given up on me even though I haven't figured out the "success" part yet.

Internships will not pay my bills

Since receiving my master's, I have done seven unpaid internships at well-known fashion and culture magazines, dedicating hours to pitch meetings, drafting, editing, and creating articles that live on their websites. These bylines have been a fantastic feat to accomplish.

However, the trade-off, which seems somewhat fair, is also murky. I don't get paid. While I understand that unpaid internships are the norm within the editorial and fashion industry, I can't pretend it doesn't ruffle my feathers. Yes, I am getting something out of it, but the morality of asking someone to work for free is complicated.

Thankfully, I am in a position to do that because of my generational wealth. However, my financial reality is not the norm.

For now, I will keep pursuing my dreams of being a writer and hopefully be able to support myself sometime soon.

• I'm a high school teacher, and I see many of my students opting out of college for the real world.
• I wish they understood that college is so much more than earning a degree.
• It's a time to meet new people, explore interests, and experiment for your future.

Editor's Note: The author, Ashley Archambault, left her job as a high school teacher in January 2025.

As a high school teacher, I'm often surprised by how many of my students have no intention of going to college. Every year, more students turn to the real world instead.

I understand the practicality of that decision since a degree doesn't always guarantee a job, and the cost of tuition is unfeasible for many families. But for the students who are wavering on the decision, I always try to convince them that the college experience is irreplaceable.

I tell them that college gave me the privilege to pause and consider my future. College was the only time I got to slow down and exist in a protective bubble.

Even though many of them just want to rush into adulthood, I try to explain all the benefits of college — beyond earning a degree.

College classes are more geared toward your interests

For me, the main difference between high school and college was that in college, I had chosen my classes and schedule. It felt like I was designing my own life for the first time. Schoolwork stopped feeling like something I had to do and became something I looked forward to. I began to value what I was learning and took my education seriously.

I remember going out to dinner with my uncle back in college. He asked me if I loved my classes, and when I said I did, I meant it.

I had never enjoyed school as much as I did then because I was finally studying the subjects that interested me. I wish students who were avoiding college because they hate school understood this.

College's slow pace lets you connect with people in ways you can't in the real world

I made all of my closest adult friends while in college. I think that's because I met other like-minded people while studying my areas of interest.

Plus, there seems to be more time in college to foster relationships. Without being thrust into full time careers or having our own families, there was a better balance between obligations and time off, allowing for a more memorable time with friends.

I don't want my students to miss out on this important part of their social lives.

College gives you the space to be curious

Many of my students want to work immediately or attend a technical school. They don't view college as a time to explore their interests.

The beauty of college is that your future is open-ended. You can experiment with your major, your classes, and your interests because anything is possible.

I changed my major a few times, and each time, I felt that I was getting closer to figuring out what I really liked doing. I wouldn't have been afforded that flexibility in the real world.

College is of so much more value than simply a degree

I understand many of my students are opting out of college because of necessity, thanks to rising tuition costs. But if a student can figure out a way to enroll, I always try to push them in that direction. To me, the value of college goes beyond an end to a means.

Many of my students seem to be in a rush to get to adulthood and to make money. However, if they knew what I know now, they'd see that the time between high school and adulthood is a healthy pause.

Ultimately, the opportunity to explore one's interests before making a career choice was more important to me than the degree I earned.

• I graduated from college in 2011 when the job market was still recovering from the recession.
• I thought I'd find a full-time job in my field quickly, but I was forced to take one at Chick-fil-A.
• Although it was frustrating to be a grad working in fast food, I was able to support my family.

I figured that once I graduated from college, I would have no problem stepping into an entry-level position in journalism or publishing. I learned very quickly that the post-recession job market in 2011 had changed everything.

Since my partner and I had adopted our first child in college, I had a young family to support, so finding a job after graduation was important.

I moved my family from West Texas to Fort Worth so that I could access a larger job market, but the combination of idealistic naivety and unrealistic expectations got in the way of my job hunt. I soon found myself in places I never thought I would be: a job seeker event and, at one point, a food bank.

For the first few months after graduation, the stress of job-hunting and not having enough money to make ends meet affected my young family.

After several months of holding back, I finally broke down and decided to apply for a job at the Chick-fil-A close to our house. I landed an interview quickly and was immediately offered an entry-level cashier position.

Before I knew it, I was dressed in full Chick-fil-A red and black, standing at the ready and asking customers what types of sauces they wanted with their nuggets.

No, I wasn't "living my best life" or harnessing the American dream, but that wasn't the point. I was making money for my family. Plus, the job both humbled and empowered me.

I first struggled to adapt to my new job

It wasn't easy for me to settle into the restaurant position since my hopes had been firmly set on a salary with benefits.

I was a college graduate working a job I never saw myself doing. At times, I felt like I had taken a step in the wrong direction. I found myself struggling with anger and frustration.

However, once I overcame my frustration, I noticed the real benefits of my gig.

For example, I worked with some inspiring people: high school students putting themselves out there to get some work experience, the cooks who took me under their wing (and caught me up on my Spanish), and our store owner who cared about people over profit.

It felt good to earn for my family in a positive environment while I waited to determine my next step.

My Chick-fil-A job empowered me, too

Taking that job in a fast-food restaurant didn't solve all of our problems, but it gave me a new outlook on postgrad life.

While it wasn't my dream job, I could make a monthly wage, giving me the breathing room to look for other work opportunities that made sense for a recent college graduate.

It took patience and willingness to work while waiting for another opportunity. In doing so, the job also taught my family a powerful lesson: If we can approach tough situations with the willingness to do what it takes with humility, we're more likely to survive our struggles.

Being willing to take the opportunities in front of you, even if they don't feel like enough at the time, can lead to what you need.

I have no regrets

After working at Chick-fil-A for eight months, I found work more closely aligned with my career goals.

Thanks to my short stint in the service industry, I now own a coffee company in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. The journey has also led my partner into her private practice as a clinical therapist. Not only have our careers grown, but 13 years later, our family has grown from three to six.

I am deeply grateful for our family's Chick-fil-A era because I learned a lot while responding to customers with "my pleasure."

It was my pleasure, in the end, to have the opportunity for growth and the ability to lay a healthy foundation for our family.

• I was accepted into Barnard College, and it was a dream come true.
• I dropped out after my freshman year because New York was expensive, and I couldn't visit home.
• I transferred to the University of Miami, which saved me money; it was the best decision.

I remember the moment I opened my transfer application for the University of Miami, sobbing as I filled out a personal statement to switch colleges. It wasn't a highlight of my academic career at the time, as I was doing something completely inconceivable in higher education — leaving my dream school.

Before the pandemic, I had been accepted to Barnard College, the women's college at Columbia University. From the moment digital confetti graced my Barnard acceptance letter, I found myself in disbelief for even getting into such a prestigious institution. I didn't come from a legacy family or money, so my efforts throughout my academic and personal life felt fully realized once I was accepted to the school in New York.

But once the pandemic began to subside and my classes became in-person, I found myself in a tough predicament. I had to face the real expenses of sustaining life as a college student in New York City. I was forced to find budget-friendly places to eat and hang out. I also struggled to visit my family back home because I couldn't afford the flights.

When it came time to face the music after my freshman year, I knew continuing my education at Barnard wasn't a sustainable option.

I moved from New York to Florida

I returned home to Orlando that summer and begrudgingly filled out a transfer application with the University of Miami for the following academic year.

I chose UM as my transfer school because they offered me a substantial financial aid package. As a student there, I could also learn more about my Cuban-American roots in Miami, where I was originally born.

UM also had a major dedicated to journalism, which I fell in love with back in New York.

With all these components in mind, I finally decided Miami was worth trying.

I saved a lot of money by transferring colleges

Both schools also had a similar cost of attendance — around $80,000 a year.

However, since I had moved in-state, I was given more grants and scholarships at UM instead of loans — totaling $10,000 annually. Switching from a liberal arts college to a university also allowed me to earn merit scholarships within the School of Communication at UM, totaling an additional $5,000.

Suffice it to say I saved a lot of money on student loans.

Moving to an in-state school also saved me on trips back home, which would have been hundred of dollars roundtrip between New York and Orlando for Fall, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Spring breaks.

But at UM, I just filled up a tank of gas in my Toyota Prius for about $40 per trip and drove between the cities.

Moving back to Florida also brought me closer to my family

In my sophomore year of college, my father was diagnosed with stage 3 esophageal cancer, which quickly transitioned into terminal stage 4 cancer.

While I initially couldn't see the benefit of being closer to home in lieu of going to my dream school, that diagnosis completely changed my outlook. He would later pass away in 2022, during my junior year.

Subsequently, being closer to my mother as we both grieved this tremendous, tragic, and unexpected loss was worth its weight in gold.

Transferring out of my dream school was the best decision

As an alumna of the University of Miami, I believe leaving Barnard was the best decision I could've made.

Aside from being closer to home when I needed to be most, I've been set up for better career success by going to school in a smaller market than NYC. I was able to stand out among my peers by taking initiative in areas that were otherwise lacking or underdeveloped.

Right after graduating, I earned two job offers at major television news stations. I now work as a full-time morning news producer. Had I ultimately graduated in my field in a global market like New York, I would have been competing with the entire world for positions at some of the top media outlets for scraps.

• I ensured my daughter was on top of the college admissions process since her freshman year.
• It was a stressful process, but my daughter eventually got into her dream school.
• I thought the stress was over, but she had much more to do in applying for scholarships.

I feel like I did everything right in helping my teen get into college. We started prepping four years ago in her freshman year of high school. That's when I encouraged her to create a spreadsheet of her activities and awards that she could add to every year.

My husband and I took her on college visits during her sophomore and junior years. We toured small colleges close to home, medium size universities a bit farther away, and a large school across the country. We also contacted admissions counselors and professors in her area of interest to ask questions and learn more.

The summer before her senior year, I nudged her to start writing her essay for the Common Application. After all, a college planning website recommended this timeline to prevent the stress of trying to write it once school was in session. We even attended a seminar on how best to describe each activity on the Common App within the 150-character limit.

She submitted her applications in the fall of her senior year, and we were ecstatic as the acceptances rolled in, including to her dream school. But little did I know that was only the beginning.

The applications and essays didn't end there

Once the college application process was over, I felt joy and relief. However, I was surprised and stressed by what came next. Neither her hard work nor my oversight of her journey to college were done.

First, she committed to her dream school and decided to apply to their honors college. This application required an academic statement about her proposed field of study, a teacher's letter of recommendation, and an essay. We hoped she could repurpose the essay she had already written for the Common App, but alas, there was a different prompt to address.

She spent weeks on this application, compiling and refining it — all while juggling school, a part-time job, and a varsity sport. It was like applying to college all over. I hovered in the background, offering support and proofreading services, plus some nagging to get it done.

Shortly after completing the honors college application, she focused on the university's scholarship application for various awards. Thankfully, the main part of this application was similar to that of the Common App, with a list of activities and awards, but there was a requirement for yet another essay — with a different prompt and word limit.

The housing application came next, which seemed early to me. However, my daughter's school of choice had a priority deadline of January 31. If she wanted the best chance of getting a primo dorm room, then she needed to describe her living habits, rank her top five dorm choices, and submit the down payment.

It was one more application to keep track of, complete thoughtfully, and submit on time.

Lastly (we hoped) was her high school's local scholarship application. While it was amazing that so many community organizations wanted to award students $500 or $1,000 scholarships, it was yet another lift to apply for them.

Although we were both getting burned out with the process, I encouraged her to keep going and offered proofreading and emotional support.

After scanning through dozens of descriptions, she found several local opportunities for which she was eligible. One required a 200-word essay about perseverance, and another requested 1,000 words about what sports have taught her. She also needed an additional letter of recommendation — this time from a coach rather than a teacher.

As she clicked submit for hopefully the final time, we both exhaled and hugged each other.

The end is in sight

It's the spring of her senior year, and we are waiting to hear the outcomes of everything she applied for after getting accepted into college. These applications took effort, so this period of waiting seems almost relaxing.

Of course, there are still things to do. We'll need to decide when she will attend orientation, and we are exploring disability services. Then, there will be typical college preparation tasks like shopping for her dorm room and taking math placement tests.

I felt like a project manager overseeing my daughter's work on these extra applications. They surprised me because I thought the biggest stressor would be applying to college — but I was wrong. It seems the application process for college is a much bigger task than I ever could've comprehended four years ago.

Thankfully, my daughter tackled these additional tasks with maturity and perseverance. For that, I am grateful and proud.

• I paid for Columbia University using the trust fund my grandfather set up for me.
• I sometimes wonder if that was a smart decision and wish I spent the money on a down payment.
• When I went to graduate school, I had no money left, so I took out student loans.

Most people choose a college based on aspects like location, athletics, or, most importantly, finances. For me, it was architecture.

Not that I wanted to study it — the closest I ever came was an introductory survey of art history. But when I stood at the sundial in the center of Columbia University's campus, between Butler Library's tall Greco-Roman columns and the wide stone steps leading toward the stately dome of Low Library, I felt a pull.

This was the place, I told my mother, who was on the campus tour with me. I applied for early admission — one lone college application — and never looked back.

I had the privilege of basing my college decision on a couple of buildings because I was a trust fund kid.

I spent my trust fund on Columbia

I had a trust fund, which my grandfather had set up for me shortly after I was born. He was a WWII submarine captain, a professor of engineering, and a Columbia alum.

He'd invested wisely, spent modestly, and set aside an ample sum for each of his grandchildren. I had $120,000 in the bank, which, back in 1998, was enough to cover tuition for four years at any private college. It was an inconceivable amount of money to me.

Columbia demolished my trust fund in four giant gulps at $24,974 annually. I also had to pay a large sum for a study abroad program in my junior year, which almost completely emptied my trust fund.

I wonder if my trust fund could've been used better

Are there advantages to an Ivy League degree? Absolutely. There's no doubt that the prestige of an Ivy League school can open many doors for most students.

Had I had my heart set on Harvard's medical school, Yale's law school, or a Rhodes scholarship, I would've greatly increased my odds of turning that dream into a reality. But like many children of privilege, I had a nebulous, artsy goal — becoming a writer. And to be honest, I could have chased that goal anywhere.

It seems unlikely that my career would've unfolded very differently if, instead, I had attended the University of Oregon's Honors College alongside a similarly selective group of smart, ambitious kids.

The difference would've been tens of thousands of dollars left in my trust fund, which I could've used to make a down payment on a house, purchase a car, pursue a master's degree — perhaps all of the above.

If I had been less swayed by the architecture, perhaps I would have made a more pragmatic decision that would have set me up for a more stable financial future.

I got into student loan debt anyway

A couple of years after graduation, I took out a very modest amount in loans for graduate school. In the years following, I dutifully made the minimum payments every month (with deferments while I was on maternity leave.) It took almost 20 years to pay off my student loan debt.

It would've been nice to avoid gifting all that money to Sallie Mae — or to be sitting in a brownstone of my own somewhere in Brooklyn.

I don't regret any of the classes I took at Columbia. But while almost all of my trust fund went into Columbia's coffers, I managed to do a few other things with the money before it ran out — and it's been these expenses that I never doubted.

I took my girlfriend backpacking in Europe one summer and paid the medical fees for some children I worked with as a volunteer during my study abroad year. One child needed heart surgery. In the end, the things with the most lasting value weren't the most prestigious or expensive. I wish I realized that earlier.

• I'm a junior at the University of California Berkeley, and I live in an off-campus house.
• I share the seven bedrooms and three bathrooms with 11 other female students.
• We're all very social, host events, and hang out in our private backyard.

I'm a junior at the University of California Berkeley, studying political science. I live off-campus in a large house with 11 other female students.

Our single-family home was built in the early 1900s — and you can tell. The windows are single-pained, the door knobs are difficult to turn, and the wooden floors are scratched and tarnished.

I met a girl subletting a room on Facebook Marketplace, and I moved in with her in this strange house. A random house has become my home, and a random group of girls has become my best friends.

I liked how my mom described the place when I first moved in: "It's cozy; it's got character."

Take a look inside to see if you agree.

The house has seven bedrooms — two singles and five doubles.

My 11 housemates and I make do with the limited space we have.

The center of our home is an old, broken piano.

Before I moved in, the housemates allegedly found the piano on the side of the road. They rolled it uphill for multiple blocks.

My housemates play the piano frequently and use it for singing and dancing during parties — even though it's missing some keys.

The busiest place in the house is always the kitchen.

The kitchen is almost always bustling — thanks to the fact that all 12 girls share the space.

It's a sociable spot, with music often playing and conversation flowing.

Every night, the kitchen is cleaned on a rotating cleaning schedule. Dishes are scrubbed and dried, counters are wiped, and floors are swept and mopped. It's a strict system, with a $5 penalty incurred if you miss your night. You'd be surprised how strong of a motivator $5 is in a student house.

We've decorated the walls with student artwork.

The walls of our house are vibrantly decorated. This is thanks to my housemate Kelcey. Her work is posted throughout the space. Some members of the house are featured in her work, too.

The painting in our stairwell, for example, depicts an evening spent with friends in our living room.

The living room couch is where we hang out at night and host events.

Our red couch — which was a Facebook Marketplace find — sags from us piling on top to watch movies and from guests who visit for dinner parties, talent shows, and mini concerts.

We spend most evenings here, watching "Sex and the City" for what must be the ninth time, playing games like Fishbowl, and eating our dinner.

The house has only three bathrooms for 12 girls.

The downstairs bathroom is only used by three girls. It, unfortunately, clogs often.

I share my bathroom with three other girls. It's modern and clean, but I hate our shower. The water pressure is weak, and it takes forever to get hot water.

Five girls share the third bathroom. It seems to be constantly in use.

The backyard is one of my favorite places and is another spot we host events.

The backyard is the calm away from the chaos of our house.

Some days, I spend the morning reading in a chair under the sun. On the weekends, I spend the night talking and cooking out there as we host a barbecue for our friends. The strings of lights are turned on, music is played, and conversation hums.

My bedroom is a former sunroom.

My bedroom is a double. Since it's technically a sunroom, sunlight streams in, and I don't need an alarm clock because I wake up with the sun.

Our room is quiet and peaceful, and from my bed, I can see our backyard. However, there is no direct access to the room, so I have to go through my housemate's room to get to mine.

This can be an inconvenience, but small issues like this are part of student life.

My housemates have helped turn this place into a home.

The house, once strange, has become a comforting, routine place to return to after class.

The house may be now comforting to me, but it's the girls who have made it my home. At one point they were all strangers, but they welcomed me into their lives, and I have never been so grateful.

• I work in college admissions, and one of my students used ChaptGPT to write his essay.
• I was angry, but then I saw all the ways AI can help students during the admissions process.
• Students can use AI as an idea generator to help organize all their essentials.

When ChatGPT first entered the scene, I rolled my eyes.

As a college admissions coach and author of "Get Real and Get In," I've always believed in the power of deep reflection and authentic storytelling. The idea of using AI felt like a shortcut that stripped away the most valuable part of the process: helping students discover their unique voices.

Everything changed with one student.

He was bright, but his early drafts were choppy, unfocused, and thin. He struggled to get his ideas on paper, and deadlines loomed. Then, suddenly, polished essays appeared in my inbox. They were formulaic but well-structured. An AI detector confirmed my suspicions: 100% AI-generated.

I was furious — not just at the student, but at the idea that AI might undermine the very foundation of my work. I emailed him a stern warning that we would not be able to support his work unless he stopped using AI.

To his credit, he listened. He scrapped the AI-generated drafts and worked harder to infuse his personality into his writing. He wound up producing essays that showcased his intellectual depth and unique perspective. And guess what? He got into his dream school — an Ivy League.

That experience forced me to rethink my stance. I wondered: Was I resisting AI because it threatened my role — or because I hadn't learned how to guide students on how to use it?

After experimenting with Generative AI in my own workflow—using it for email responses and project timelines — I saw its potential to streamline processes. This inspired me to integrate AI to make the admissions process feel less overwhelming.

AI could be a stress reliever for students applying to college

As someone who works closely with high school students, I know firsthand how stressful the college admissions process can be. I've seen students stress out and sometimes opt out of the process altogether because it's just too much.

College admissions should not precipitate a mental health nightmare, although I know all too well that it can. When I applied to college, I got stress-induced pneumonia due to the pressure.

While AI won't change the stakes of college admissions, I've realized it can help reduce stress and overwhelm by handling repetitive, time-consuming tasks, allowing students to focus on the deeper, more meaningful parts of their applications.

Some schools and professors outright ban AI, fearing it will lead to plagiarism. But let's be real: AI isn't going anywhere.

Instead of treating AI like a forbidden shortcut, we need to teach students how to use it ethically.

AI will not write your essay, but it can help brainstorm, refine ideas, and suggest edits. AI will not replace human mentorship, but it can free up time for deeper conversations.

How AI can help students with the admissions process

Students have to answer a lot of prompts when applying to colleges. Many students can get stuck generating interesting, unique ideas to write about. That's when they can turn to AI.

Here's what students can type into ChaptGPT: "Help me generate outlines for three unique essay topics based on my experience with [insert key event, passion, or challenge]."

Additionally, some of my students struggle with executive function. Executive function is what Harvard researchers liken to an "air traffic control system" for the brain. These struggles — often linked to PTSD, anxiety, ADHD, or depression — make it harder to stay organized.

AI can serve as a life-changing accessibility tool for these — and all — students.

For example, Fyxer provides a structured pre-loaded response to emails so students stay on track with admissions and school correspondence.

Voice-to-text AI through Google Docs allows students to dictate their thoughts before organizing them into an essay.

Additionally, generative AI creates bullet-point responses to common interview questions. Students can use their own voice and style to practice the points aloud.

We need to integrate AI with human connection

AI hasn't replaced human connection in my coaching; it has deepened it.

By reducing logistical overwhelm, students can focus on intellectual depth.

By offering adaptive support, students with learning differences and mental health challenges can engage in ways that work for them.

By streamlining tedious tasks, I can dedicate more time to meaningful mentorship.

The future of education isn't AI vs. human connection; it's both.

For students, this means less stress and more creativity. For educators, it means focusing on what really matters: supporting students to self-discovery and to build real-world, future-ready skills.

The college admissions process doesn't have to be a mental marathon. AI — used wisely — can refocus students on the journey of self-discovery, intellectual curiosity, and confidence — exactly what admissions officers want to see.

• I started law school full of ambition, but I quickly realized I hated it.
• Quitting wasn't an option, so I had to find a way to make peace with my studies.
• I'm glad I stuck with my law major in the end because it taught me a lot and I found my niche.

When I was a teenager, I wanted to become a lawyer. Everyone told me it would suit me, that I was made for it. So, after high school, I immediately enrolled at Saint-Louis University in Brussels as a law student.

I eagerly awaited university, believing life would finally begin. Yet, from the first time I squeezed into an overcrowded lecture hall, I knew I would hate college, especially my major.

In my first year, I convinced myself that the uninspiring courses were necessary basics. By my second year, I knew nothing would change. And by the third, the fourth…I felt like I was on the wrong path.

The difficulty kept increasing, exams became more stressful, and the competitive college atmosphere among students turned ruthless.

Five years later, I've completed two master's degrees in law at schools in Europe, and I'm about to finally graduate.

So, how did I survive all these years, spending much of my time studying a major I didn't like? I still don't know, but I don't regret it.

I had little interest in my law classes

Law classes quickly became a chore. The coursework in law school is often overwhelming, and exams are psychological battles. My entire year boils down to a single exam, usually oral, with professors who sometimes make disparaging remarks that only add to the pressure.

It became clear to me that universities and their courses are designed to shape us into robotic professionals — and if that doesn't satisfy you, you have to look beyond what is being offered.

I also felt that true reflection was absent, and we just had to swallow what the teacher said. Those experiences made me realize how much the academic system was draining me. It wasn't just the major that weighed on me but also the structure of higher education.

Having always been passionate about literature, I considered switching majors in my second year. Devoting myself to a passion that had existed long before my interest in law: writing.

After hours of reflection, doubts, discussions, and family tensions, I chose to stay. After all, I was doing well academically. I told myself that law was broad enough to lead to multiple career paths, with additional training if necessary.

That gave me hope, but it didn't make the process any easier. The question haunted me daily: "Am I wasting my life?"

I relied on discipline to get me through school

Law school is tough even for those who love it — worse when you don't.

I had to face panic attacks, pressure to stay in the race, and the stress of applying for internships — all while wondering if any of it mattered. Every day, hundreds of doubts swirled in my mind.

My doubts made it even harder to focus in class or complete the simplest daily tasks, which suddenly required an enormous effort. Studying for over 10 hours a day glued to a desk is already tough. Add in a vortex of self-doubt pulling you down every second, and it quickly turns into a nightmare.

That's when discipline forced me to do what I didn't want to do, even through the tears falling into my cereal bowl or my instant noodles. I reminded myself that this time was only temporary, and I had what it takes to see this thing through.

It was all worth it in the end

I hated my studies so much, but choosing to stay forced me to look beyond what was being taught. Because the courses didn't interest me, I had to think outside the box to find what sparked my curiosity.

That's when I stumbled upon a legal article on law and art. For the first time, I felt a flicker of passion. Despite the psychological toll of staying in law school, I finally found my own path within a major that didn't seem to suit me.

Staying in my studies was the right choice because I found a niche that brings me joy.

If staying at university has taught me anything, I learned that it's that it's better to ask questions, doubt your path, and explore more options than to end up in a job you don't like.

• I had doubts about attending the University of Connecticut, a state school.
• Before jumping at the chance to transfer, I decided to try to make the best of my current college.
• I ultimately decided transferring to urban Boston University was the best decision for me.

I always knew that the University of Connecticut wasn't the right place for me.

Despite UConn's stellar academics, its rural campus offered little appeal to me. Plus, its emphasis on science and engineering didn't align with my creative interests.

I had been rejected from all three of my top schools and only landed on UConn because it was the cheapest tuition. With my decision to attend UConn, my dreams of leaving Connecticut and going to school in a city came to a swift end. That was a hard pill to swallow.

Nevertheless, in August 2023, I packed up my bags, stuffed them into the back of my mom's car, and started my college journey. I joined clubs, made friends, and even pushed myself to take on new challenges. However, despite trying to make the best of UConn, my desire to go to a different school persisted.

I originally struggled to adapt as a freshman

As someone who never quite found their place in high school, I romanticized the idea of college. Coming to UConn, I had very rigid expectations for myself and my experience.

I never stopped to consider the challenges I might face or the possibility that I wouldn't love every minute of my time there. I expected everything to fall into place as soon as I arrived, and when it didn't, I felt lost.

I knew I wanted to be somewhere else, but I had no idea what that place was or how to get there.

I turned to a close friend, who had transferred the year before, for advice. She told me that the key to a successful transition was to "make sure the reason you're transferring has something to do with the school."

This advice stuck with me. The transition to college is hard, and it's important to acknowledge that it's not always going to be a smooth ride. I had to make sure that the problem was the school itself — not my struggle to adapt to this new life change.

I knew then that I couldn't just flee UConn because I was struggling. I had to settle in and see if it really was the wrong place for me.

I tried to make the best of UConn, but it just wasn't the right school

Coming back from winter break, I decided to give my second semester at UConn my best shot. I came into the spring semester with a more open-minded approach. I hosted my own radio show, became the social media manager of one of my clubs, and continued to develop deep connections.

By the time April came, I had turned my experience around. Yet, despite my newfound happiness, my desire to transfer continued to linger.

The moment I truly knew it was time to transfer came in the middle of March. I was walking back to my dorm room after a night spent with friends, laughing. I remember taking in my surroundings, the cool winter air, and thinking to myself, "This is great, but I have to go."

I ultimately transferred because I was unhappy in a rural environment.

I'm glad I transferred colleges based on something I could fix — not because I was searching for something unrealistic or intangible. If I had, I might have experienced the same challenges I did at UConn.

I'm glad I gave myself the time to explore my options

I transferred to Boston University, and the urban environment was the right fit for me.

During my process as a transfer, I've learned that it's easy to want to leave when the going gets tough. But I quickly realized it wasn't just a difficult transition; my school of choice was the problem. It just wasn't the right fit.

Ultimately, you know what's best for you, but it's also important to give yourself time to settle and adjust — and then you can make a definitive decision.

The time I spent at UConn was definitely transformative. It taught me a lot about myself — how I handle stress, how I deal with new environments, and what I value in a community.

But it also reinforced the idea that if something doesn't feel right, it's OK to move on.

• I graduated from high school early, and I didn't know what I wanted to do for college.
• I decided to take a gap year, and I traveled to France to consider my options.
• I learned I wanted to be a speech pathologist and got into the perfect school for me.

In the fall semester of my junior year of high school, I realized I had enough credits to graduate a year early. My graduation year changed from 2024 to 2023; I became a senior overnight.

I was suddenly presented with one major problem: college. What would I do after graduation? I'd always intended to go to college, but with plenty of time to make the decision, I felt no sense of urgency. Now, with the plan to graduate early, the deadline to decide where to go and what to study was reduced to less than a semester.

Ultimately, it came down to two options: go to college immediately after high school or wait. As the spring semester of my now senior year drew to a close without any clarity on a school or major, waiting started to seem like the better option. So, that's what I did: I waited.

I'm so glad I did because my gap year prepared me for college in many ways.

Spending time in France became the perfect adventure

The first half of my gap year was spent over 5,000 miles away from my hometown in Tyler, Texas. I remember the day when I arrived in southern France with my luggage and all the excitement only a 17-year-old girl could have on her first international travel experience.

I was greeted with sweltering heat, nauseating jetlag, and a language that I thought I knew but couldn't seem to understand. Not deterred, I took the next several days to unpack and settle in with my host family. It took the next several months, however, to adjust to the new country, culture, and customs.

In the mornings, I went to a language school where I studied advanced French for four hours. In the afternoons, I explored the city, exercised, or rested at home. In the evenings and on the weekends, I spent time with my host family and volunteered at a local church. I even had the opportunity to take two trips to Paris and a trip to Rome and Florence.

Those four-and-a-half months were very formative in my young life; I learned so much about the world and took home practical life lessons that will last for years.

I was finally able to focus on what I really wanted to do in college

I returned from France two days before the new year. I gained wonderful new experiences from the journey but had reached no decision about college. During my time overseas, I applied to several universities and researched countless careers to no avail.

Nevertheless, I jumped into the new year, trusting that God would reveal his plan to me. I revisited my career assessment and worked tirelessly on school and scholarship applications on top of the part-time job I picked up. By February, things were looking up. I shadowed a speech pathologist and was fairly certain I'd found the right career for me. I'd been accepted into a university that had an excellent speech pathology program. Plus, I was in the running for a significant scholarship at that school.

On March 1st, I received a call announcing that I had been awarded the highest scholarship the school had to offer — full college tuition. From that point on, I was excited as I shared the news with my friends and family, made my first schedule, and bought things for my dorm. Most importantly, I knew where to go, what to study, and that I was making the right choice. In the end, I just needed an extra year to figure it out.

Taking a gap year was one of the best decisions I've ever made

Not only was it a remarkable experience, but it proved to be extremely helpful. After my early graduation, I was not prepared to make a decision about college. The extra year gave me the time I needed to make an informed decision about my future.

Additionally, I matured and learned valuable life lessons and skills. France, for example, taught me to live without my family. My independence and budgeting skills grew enormously as well. The two jobs I worked upon my return to Texas helped me save for college and mature professionally. My gap year also allowed my brain to rest and recuperate from years in elementary, middle, and high school before diving back into the academic sphere.

I won't claim that a gap year is for everyone. Some students know exactly what they want to do and waste no time doing it. Others need a little more time, like I did. My gap year afforded me incredible life experiences, and most importantly, it better prepared me for college.

• I decided to attend the University of Georgia, a state school.
• Now that I'm in my fourth year, I know I made the right decision to go to a public school.
• It was cheaper, I had more opportunity to explore my interests, and I'm ready for my career.

Deciding where to go to college was one of the most important — and stressful — decisions I have ever made.

I considered many factors — from cost to location to school spirit. After carefully weighing my options, I chose to attend my state school.

Now that I'm in my fourth year at the University of Georgia, I know I made the right decision. Here's why I think everyone should attend state schools.

Affordability

One of the most compelling reasons to attend a state school is affordability. In addition to lower tuition for in-state students, my state has a lottery-funded scholarship that covers full tuition for many students.

This financial support has not only reduced my debt but also given me the chance to do an intensive study abroad program in Hawaii and the flexibility to consider graduate school without significant financial stress.

Flexibility in academic choices

Early in my first year, I realized something that many college students can relate to: My initial college major didn't align with my career goals.

Fortunately, my state school offers hundreds of majors. With the help of my advisor, I transitioned seamlessly between colleges, going from environmental economics to management and eventually to my current major, management information systems.

Diverse course offerings

In addition to a broad array of majors, my state school offers a wide range of electives.

I have been encouraged to step outside my comfort zone and discover new passions in global agriculture, ecology, jazz, ballroom dance, and golf.

The unique courses I took during my first year ultimately led me to add two certificates — sustainability and leadership — to my degree.

Campus life and resources

With hundreds of student-run clubs and organizations on campus, state schools offer endless opportunities to pursue even the most niche interests. I am involved in athletics (Club Tennis), professional groups (Women in Technology and Women in Business), community building (Honors Student Council), and volunteering (Serve UGA).

I'm also a member of the Honors College, which gives me a smaller group in a larger student body and the opportunity to take advanced courses.

The resources available on campus are equally impressive. My school has multiple dining halls with diverse cuisines, spacious libraries, a state-of-the-art gym facility, and a comprehensive health center.

These amenities have helped me maintain my physical and mental well-being while prioritizing academics.

Career and networking opportunities

Attending my state school has been instrumental in jump-starting my career. The active alumni network is an invaluable resource, with many alumni returning to campus to help with recruiting efforts.

When I reached out, alumni were more than willing to conduct mock interviews and guide me through the job application process, which was incredibly helpful.

Additionally, my state school's strong regional reputation has made identifying and targeting companies easier during my job search. Employers see firsthand the impact of my university through our well-prepared graduates, giving students a competitive advantage in the job market. This helped me to secure a full-time consulting offer before graduation.

Proximity to home

As the oldest child in my family, I was nervous to be the first to leave the house and head off to college. I was afraid of feeling homesick and isolated from my family. Attending my state school allowed me to stay close enough to drive home on weekends during my freshman year, which eased my transition.

As I became more involved on campus and found my place, I now go home infrequently as a fourth-year. However, knowing that home is just a short drive away if needed is comforting.

Attending a state school has provided me with an affordable, flexible, and enriching college experience. From diverse academic offerings to career opportunities and a strong sense of community, my decision to enroll in a state school has been one of the best choices I've ever made.

For students weighing their college options, I strongly recommend considering the many benefits of attending a state school.

• When I graduated from college, my friends moved away, so I had trouble adjusting to the real world.
• I adopted a cat, and she has been a source of comfort for me during my postgrad life.
• My cat has helped me feel less anxious and less lonely during this uncertain time.

I have never particularly enjoyed change. I love spontaneous adventures, like taking a day trip to a new city or trying new foods, but I don't like when things end. Recently, my college chapter came to a close.

I started school in the fall of 2020 and, not to rehash the trials and tribulations of the pandemic, but it was tough moving to a college 2,000 miles away from home while not being allowed to interact with many people. The friends I made became more like family. As with any college friend group, some grew apart, but most of us held each other close.

Many of them moved to new cities after graduation last May, and I felt a kind of grief in their absence. I no longer had weekly dinners with my best friend where we tried cooking new, innovative recipes or opted for the korean spot near his apartment. I couldn't go to comedy shows to see my favorite people doing stand-up and making the audience laugh with stories I had been a part of. I wasn't able to go over to their apartments at the drop of a hat when things went wrong. I could still call or FaceTime them, but we all had different schedules.

In addition to constantly missing people, the transition from school and internships to my first real journalism job felt overwhelming. I started a fellowship and fought to find freelance opportunities.

It was all hard, but luckily, I had a little friend to keep me company.

My cat helped me stay calm in the confusion of my new life

I adopted Lilac in January 2024, knowing that the next year would be tough. She is a gray and black tabby with a sassy attitude, an incessant need to bite toes, and so much love to give. During my final semester of college, she was an adorable pet to come home to, cuddle, and play with. After graduation, she became a necessary part of my self-care routine.

I have high functioning anxiety, which can make reporting a stressful job, from tight deadlines to interviewing new people all the time. I love that when I'm working from home, I can plop Lilac in my lap and keep typing away. She gives me so much comfort from just sitting in my lap and purring — like a living weighted blanket.

There's scientific evidence to support that feeling. I spoke to Steven Feldman, president of the Human Animal Bond Research Institute, about the connection between people and their pets. He explained that pets can be instrumental in managing mental health conditions.

"They provide a sense of stability," he said. "There's good research to show that when you're interacting with your pet, your oxytocin levels are going up, your endorphins, dopamine, all the good brain chemicals, hormones are going up, and cortisol, which is your stress hormone, is going down."

Lilac's cuddles made me feel at ease. When she sat with me, I could feel myself calm down and focus on what I needed to do. The tasks stopped feeling quite so overwhelming.

My cat also helped me with the isolation of postgrad life

Lilac helped with the loneliness, too. Whenever I came home from a hard day, I could look forward to seeing her sitting in front of the door, screaming at me (She's not one for subtlety.). She needed me, and I needed her. And I felt like she gave me a sense of consistency and control over my life.

"[Having pets] is a way to show yourself that you have that level of commitment and responsibility to take care of another living thing," Feldman added.

Taking care of Lilac made me feel like I could do something right amid all of the change, motivating me to keep working hard and pushing through self-doubt and loneliness.

Of course, Lilac isn't perfect. She's a cat. She still gets the zoomies and runs rampant around the house. She punctured my favorite Ugg slippers and my skin on many occasions. But I'm so grateful to have had her around over the past six months. She calms me down and gives me something to look forward to, whether it's cute cuddles or playful yet menacing attacks.

• I was accepted into the Beacon School, one of New York City's most competitive high schools.
• The teachers were free to create unique curriculums, which were difficult but inspiring.
• My classmates were very successful, pushing me to a higher level of achievement.

In many ways, the Beacon School is a New York City public high school like any other: fluorescent lighting, student competition, and bathrooms that smell suspiciously of bubblegum.

But one thing stood out when I first toured Beacon in middle school. It wasn't the neon lockers, the museum-worthy student artwork, or even the basement dedicated to music production. Instead, I noted that out of all of the tours I'd been on — and as my parents can attest, I'd been on many — Beacon's student tour guide was the only one who spoke with true confidence, knowledge, and passion. She exuded preparedness and resilience like she could take on any challenge.

"That's what I want to be like," I said to myself. "I need to go here."

Getting into Beacon was my hope and dream for months, but I knew it was one of the most competitive schools in the city. When I finally found out I got in, I cried. I knew Beacon's reputation as a top New York City high school ensured an intellectually challenging road ahead, but I also knew that I would be all the better for it.

The curriculum was difficult but inspiring

One of Beacon's most unique qualities is that the students are exempt from most New York State Regents exams, so we didn't waste time with scantrons and multiple-choice quizzes.

It also gives our teachers more freedom to design classes however they want. In my sophomore year world history class, for example, my teacher had us read "Al-Qaeda and What it Means to Be Modern" by John Gray. This book is not an easy read for a 10th grader, as it discusses difficult subjects like terrorism and modernism. This was the most challenging piece I'd ever read, and yet, since my teacher assumed we could do it, my classmates and I were determined not to disappoint.

With such high expectations, my head often felt like an overstuffed suitcase. Facts about the Silk Road, geometric logic, el subjuntivo, and "The Great Gatsby" were packed into every nook and cranny of my brain. The end of each school day assured me that I could and would master challenging concepts.

The competition was fierce because my classmates were so successful

Attending Beacon often felt like being at the forefront of something electrifying. My friends were inspiring activists, professional journalists, well-practiced soccer stars, and documentarians in the making. They were photographers, bandmates, and award-winning debaters.

Such people were the best part of Beacon and gave way to what every student should experience: the feeling of being surrounded by people who are so smart and driven that you can only hope to keep up.

These students would have been successful no matter where they ended up but put them all together, and you get graduating classes whose ideas, passions, and futures have been molded, influenced, and made brighter by those around them.

Because of the high-achieving people I was surrounded with, however, Beacon sometimes felt like a bubble. Since everyone was so ambitious and determined to get ahead, the competition for limited AP class seats, teacher recommendations, and leadership positions could get intense. I sometimes felt like I was falling behind, and when I wasn't accepted to an elite American college — a goal influenced by the expectations of those around me — I felt like I was less than my peers.

Even so, if I hadn't been exposed to such competition, I never would have known I could reach so high or go so far.

I learned exactly what I needed to at Beacon

The day after I graduated from Beacon, I returned to fulfill one final goal of my high school career: giving a school tour.

As we made our way from the seventh to the first floor, I told a group of Beacon-parents-to-be about the teachers who changed me, the clubs I'd miss, and the friends I'd always keep in contact with. I felt every bit the confident, resilient person I'd first associated with Beacon.

I left knowing that every school should be as formative and every student as lucky to be given the power, strength, and potential that Beacon gave me.

Sophie Landis is a first-year student at McGill University in Montreal. Connect with her on LinkedIn here.

• All the Ivy League schools I applied to rejected me.
• My biggest mistake was not fully understanding Ivy League admissions.
• Now, as a college freshman at a different school, I understand that the Ivy League isn't everything.

I was so nervous I couldn't speak. All I could do was stare at the words on my screen: Brown University. View status update.

I closed my eyes, tried to calm myself, and told myself it would be OK. I opened my eyes and clicked the button.

Immediately, I knew something was wrong. There was no confetti, no congratulations, no "we are delighted to inform you…"

I pieced it together quickly enough: The Ivy League school rejected my application. Tears prickled at the corners of my eyes and started to fall.

That was December 2023. A couple of months later, in March 2024, I'd be rejected by UChicago, Harvard, and Stanford. Dartmouth waitlisted me, and I held onto hope for acceptance until June. I was ultimately rejected there, too.

Admittance to these Ivy-Plus schools had been my ultimate goal, and rejection left me questioning what I had done wrong. How could I have failed when I'd worked so hard?

Was it my SAT score? Should I have studied more for a 1500 instead of a 1490? Should I have written different essays? Were my topics too niche? Did I put my extracurriculars in the wrong order?

With reflection and personal research, I realized that my biggest mistake was not taking the full picture of college admissions into account.

The chances of getting into my dream schools were always slim

After getting rejected, I started doing a lot of research into college admissions at Ivy League schools. What I learned was surprising.

Sure, we all know that legacy and athlete applicants have a leg up. What I didn't conceptualize was just how much of a leg up. I learned that 11% of Yale's Class of 2027 were legacy students. That's about 1 in every 10 students. At Brown, 8% of the Class of 2027 are legacies.

That may not sound like much, but the disadvantages for me didn't end there.

Analysis from Opportunity Insights, a research group based at Harvard, shows that students from the 80 to 90^th income percentile have the lowest Ivy-Plus college attendance rate — at little more than 10%. These are families wealthy enough to afford SAT tutors, private college counselors, and maybe even full tuition. But to universities, those families don't make enough to be considered potential donors.

These statistics put the whole process into perspective for me; it was no longer about me not working hard enough but about the universities looking for factors I couldn't control.

Of course, I always knew that getting into an Ivy League school was difficult, but I didn't know beforehand just how much the odds were stacked against me. Had I known, I might've made different choices during the admissions process.

I'm slowly acclimating to my college

I now attend McGill University in Montreal, sometimes referred to as the Harvard of Canada. Though it's not where I thought I'd end up, and sometimes I wonder if it's where I should stay, I've realized that no matter what, I have a duty to make the most of where I'm at.

When I first arrived at my non-Ivy League university, I felt intense loneliness, confusion, and sadness. I missed home and the feeling of knowing what each day would bring. I attributed this to not being at my dream university.

Eventually, however, I realized that these feelings were not place-specific; I would have been an equally undecided student at Dartmouth as I am at my current university. I would have felt the same bewilderment in Cambridge, Massachusetts, or Providence, Rhode Island, as I did in Montreal.

So, today, I'm looking at the brighter side of things. It would be a lie to say that where you go to college doesn't matter. But it would also be a lie to say that it's the only thing that matters. In reality, it's a bit of both.

What matters is part where you go but, crucially, what you do when you're there.

Sophie Landis is a first-year student at McGill University in Montreal and a passionate writer and reader. Connect with her on LinkedIn here.

• I saved a college fund for my daughter but decided not to give it to her.
• Instead, I'm having her apply for student loans so that she can learn financial independence.
• I hope this financial responsibility will help her become a better adult.

College was one of the biggest challenges when parenting my daughter.

High school was easy because we were a small, tight-knit family that followed a schedule.

My wife and I would do school drop-off every morning and then go to work. In the evenings, we would all meet back at home and talk about the highs and lows of our days. Weekends were rather adventurous. We would go out to explore new places, or our daughter would spend time with her friends. Everything was rather predictable.

Unpredictability set in just when my daughter was about to go to college. There were so many decisions to be made, and we were not all in agreement with them. My daughter wanted one thing; my wife and I wanted another, and it was a constant cycle of trying to figure things out.

Paying for college was our biggest hurdle to face as a family.

We saved for my daughter's college but then had second thoughts

One thing we were prepared for was the financial aspect of higher education. We knew the transition would be expensive, so we had set aside a college fund years ago to ensure we would all be comfortable.

However, I started reflecting on my life and the hardships that I had to go through as I grew up. For me, going to school was a privilege because I came from a middle-class family where my parents tried their best to give us everything we needed.

As one of six siblings, things were never easy. My parents provided my education by constantly applying for loans. This gave me a burning desire to work harder and reach my goals because there was no fallback plan.

Along the way, I learned significant money lessons that I've carried into adulthood — lessons I wish my children would equally learn.

Of course, the goal is always to provide a better life for your children so they don't have to know the difficult life experiences you went through but sometimes we have to make decisions they will be grateful for later.

Therefore, despite having a college fund, I encouraged my daughter to apply for student loans.

I hope she can learn financial responsibility

Apart from emphasizing savings and keeping piggy banks when she was younger, I never had real-life opportunities to teach my daughter about money management. Her journey to college was the best place to start. After all, she would be independent in a couple of years.

By encouraging her to apply for student loans, I was hoping to teach her to make important financial decisions in the long run and understand debt management.

As education is important, paying back the student loans will be equally important to her because the loans provide long-term educational value. Learning how to budget and manage debt repayments is a critical life skill for anyone.

To ensure our daughter was on board with the idea, my wife and I had an open discussion with her regarding this huge financial step. We also set realistic expectations on the loan repayment terms and exchanged ideas on how to manage finances post-graduation.

We agreed that she will look for jobs during semester breaks and will be able to save a little of what she will earn in a "loan payment" account that she will eventually have.

She was surprised and had to process it for a couple of days. But after many discussions, she understood and now does the loan applications herself — now that she's in her second year of college.

Owning a personal bank account and a loan repayment account will help her split the money she gets into two and make do with what she can.

Now, she'll be better prepared for adulthood

Considering that we can afford to pay for college, this may seem like an extreme measure, but it's one that we feel is needed. My biggest fear is raising kids who will not be financially independent when the time comes.

By taking these little steps, we hope our daughter will understand the importance of managing her finances properly, even if we won't be there to guide her. Life is unpredictable, and you don't want your kids to feel incapable of handling the challenges that may come their way.

What she doesn't know is that her college fund will remain untouched for her to receive in the future and that we will be a safety net if things get tough. But we didn't offer that upfront because we wanted to help her find her way and give her a start in this cold world.

• I received several rejections and referrals from colleges, including my dream school.
• I'm trying not to attach any meaning to my rejections, but I still feel like a failure.
• I'm trying to convince myself that who I become is more important than where I go to school.

Just a few months ago, I submitted my college applications to several schools, taking the early action route.

Recently, those decisions came in, and, unfortunately, my rejections and deferrals started piling up. Of the more than half a dozen schools I've heard back from, I have far more deferrals or outright rejections than acceptances.

I unfortunately was rejected from my dream school. Some schools I hoped (and believed) were my safety schools differed me. Those deferrals give me no greater insight into my academic fate; they just leave me on edge until final decisions are announced in April.

The sting of each rejection made it harder to believe that my worth was not tied to these decisions.

There's so much pressure to get into a top university

The narrative that success equals attending a "top" university often pushes my close friends and me to sacrifice our well-being for a résumé boost. All-nighters, overcommitment to extracurriculars, and constant comparison with peers have become normalized.

This isn't just stressful; it's damaging. The constant obsession with where I end up can overshadow the more important question: Who do I want to become? What do I want to achieve — both in college and for the rest of my life?

Each of us will decide the outcome of our next four years. But still, nobody is asking me, "How would you, Sarah, define personal success?"

Instead, the questions are about what university name will be emblazoned on the sweatshirt available for purchase in the campus bookstore.

It doesn't matter that some of the most successful people didn't follow a traditional path. Oprah Winfrey attended Tennessee State University, and Steve Jobs dropped out of Reed College. But I'm not either of them, and I still have to prove myself a person of worth in the grown-up world.

I can't help feeling like a failure right now

I can't scroll through Instagram or TikTok without seeing videos of students opening their acceptance letters from Ivy League schools or hearing people boast about their 4.0 + GPAs and extracurriculars. Comparison feels inevitable.

It doesn't help that college has come to symbolize so much more than just education. To many students, it represents validation — proof that all our hard work was worth it. It's a ticket to a secure future.

When rejection arrives instead, it's hard not to feel as though we've failed — not just academically, but as individuals. After all, colleges claim they're looking for "the whole person," not just grades. What does it say about me if the whole person I've spent years becoming wasn't enough?

I'm now trying to move forward

As I sit with my rejections and try to process what they mean, I'm learning to separate my self-worth from external validation. It's not easy, and it's a lesson I suspect I'll be relearning throughout my life. But I'm also trying to focus on the bigger picture.

My worth isn't determined by where I go to college. It's determined by how I show up in the world, how I treat others, how I pursue my passions, and how I respond to challenges like this one.

As I send out applications for the regular decision round, I'm trying to approach the process with a different mindset. I'm focusing on finding schools that align with my values and goals rather than chasing prestige. I'm reminding myself that rejection is not a reflection of my worth or potential. And I'm holding onto the hope that wherever I end up, I will make the most of it.

• Before heading to college, I worried I would hate my dorm and that I wouldn't make any friends.
• Luckily, I made my small dorm room at the Univeristy of Michigan work and found food I loved.
• I also found friends easily, but classes were harder than expected.

After researching my freshman dorm using the incredibly reliable resource Reddit, I was slightly terrified to live in the Mary Markley building, which was built back in 1959 and is the oldest residence hall on the University of Michigan's campus.

Rumors of cockroaches, a lack of air conditioning, and the dreaded wind tunnel during the winter season increased my nerves tenfold.

After my parents had hugged me goodbye, it dawned on me that this was — as my roommate and I now like to call it — my home sweet dorm. I still don't understand how I managed to fit all my belongings in this tiny living space of 11 feet by 11 feet.

But, throughout my freshman year, I adjusted to my college life — and there were many surprises.

I slowly learned to make the best of my living situation

Community showers are quite disgusting, but romanticizing the horrible experience was my only viable option. Investing in a quality pair of shower shoes was a wise decision, specifically a design with holes so your shoes don't fill up with dirty water. Upon my arrival on campus, I received a staggering amount of Jibbitz, the little charms that stick into the holes of Crocs. My bright teal shower flip-flops are now adorned with multiple Michigan-themed Jibbitz, my theory being that if I must wear these in my bathroom, why shouldn't I be as stylish as possible?

Only my greatest obstacle remained: my lifelong struggle to find edible food. I'm a selective eater who doesn't appreciate the label of "picky." After scouring every inch of my dining hall in an effort not to starve, I found Mary Markley's greatest treasure: the build-your-own pizza station. I have fallen in love with buttering up the pizza dough, spreading around a tiny spoonful of red sauce, going overboard on the cheese, and topping it off with pepperoni and black olives.

With one semester under my belt, I am unable to debunk all rumors surrounding residence halls on college campuses, but there's always a silver lining. It just takes a little searching.

I had to embrace the absurd to make friends

My primary concern about college was finding a group of people who shared similar interests and passions as myself. I convinced myself that I would not find any friends. Little did I know that I would spend my first evenings and nights doing strange activities with people I hadn't even known for a day.

Less than an hour after I moved into my dorm, I received an invite to grab ice cream with a student organization. Looking back, the choice to tag along for dessert might have been the best decision I made my entire first semester because, on the very first night of college life, I found amazing friends. The adventures began soon afterward.

After sharing a highly personal fact about my favorite cereal, I found myself in the middle of a Meijer aisle, frantically searching for a box of cereal before the store closed. While passing a fountain in the early hours of the morning, my friends and I thought the only logical response was to jump in fully clothed.

To any incoming freshman who is afraid of new social interactions or finding their people, my best advice would be to embrace the crazy. I was surprised to learn that laughing your head off in the middle of the night will make one forget about their homesickness and the impending doom of an 8:30 a.m. class.

I learned a 'B' isn't the end of the world

I dreaded Math 115, a calculus course that my degree program required for graduation. Class attendance began to plummet as student after student dropped the class due to its difficulty and the long hours of work it entailed.

I'm pursuing a dual degree in business administration at the Ross School of Business and sports management through the School of Kinesiology. Originally a five-year program, I have little room for error when selecting classes as I hope to graduate within four years. Failing a class was not an option in my mind.

Right off the bat, I was faced with an extremely difficult challenge that I was convinced I wouldn't overcome. As a straight-A high school student who had quickly picked up new concepts, I struggled with the idea that I needed help and needed it badly.

After long hours spent in tutoring sessions, taking practice exam after practice exam, and many emotional phone calls with my father, I managed to squeak out a B-minus. My life did not, in fact, end after barely making it through a challenging class, and I surprised myself with perseverance and grit I wasn't aware I possessed.

And I surprised myself throughout my first semester. From my dorm room to my classes, I adapted quickly and (mostly) effortlessly.