I can first recall scrolling through Harvard University’s daunting acceptance rates in sixth grade. Like almost every overachieving student, my sights were set on one of the eight most prestigious colleges I could find — none offering more than a 10% chance of admission. Starting at 11 years old, my idea of “success” was getting into a university that was originally founded to be part of a like-minded athletics league. Instead of directing my attention to pursuing interests that could’ve developed my passions, I began focusing on perceived paths to admission, which, honestly, would require more luck than merit. The scariest part is that this mindset is not an uncommon one.
Every year, tens of thousands of students apply to Ivy League schools, and, worse, many spend their adolescence overwhelmed with thoughts about the Common App, until their whole lives rely on decisions made by a random admissions committee that can never truly understand every applicant’s story. This flawed idea of achievement isn’t just an infrequent nuisance, but an issue embedded in American culture.
The first problem with this attitude is that most students do not actually understand how these colleges admit applicants. So, let’s set the record straight. Yale University — with an acceptance rate of 4.24% for the class of 2030 — uses a holistic approach, similar to the rest of the schools in the league. In this process, an application first undergoes an initial review, where standards such as academic rigor and consistency are measured. If a student passes, they move on to an area expert admissions officer. This officer ranks each aspect of the applicant’s profile — extracurriculars, essays, letters of recommendation — on a scale of one to nine, then assigns an overall rating from one to four. After another officer outside the student’s region reviews the application, maintaining a process of “checks and balances,” it’s finally reviewed by an area board. At Yale, the board is a conglomerate of faculty members who debate each application, their discussions lasting from about 30 seconds to 30 minutes.
Let that sink in. If an admissions officer finds your application “repetitive” or “non-unique,” a vote relying on a simple majority could dismiss the years you’ve spent working for a letter reading “congratulations,” in a matter of seconds.
Truthfully, this isn’t necessarily a terrible way to admit students. These colleges have done their best to stay as unbiased as possible — considering thousands of factors and almost all of a student’s background, so they can make the most informed decisions. But that’s the issue: There are just too many variables. The admissions officer who receives your application could make or break your chances of admission. If you come from a large feeder school, it doesn’t matter if you are as deserving as any other student. Being part of a large high school automatically sets a higher standard for you to achieve. Just the field you’re interested in majoring in is a thin line between rejection and acceptance.
According to Forbes, majors such as business, political science and psychology can be considered redundant, and students who apply to more obscure majors, such as biomimicry or astrobiology, have a higher chance of acceptance. No matter what these schools do, there’s not really a good way to judge over 50,000 applicants, who — for the most part — all deserve admission to their dream school. Defining an applicant using a number is effective, but not genuine. And here’s the truth: these schools may not be as worth it as we’ve all deluded ourselves into believing.
Academic rigor is undoubtedly subjective. Yes, the Ivies do have incredible courses, credentialed professors and beneficial networking. But why do you think that is? According to the organization OpenTheBooks, Ivy League schools receive over $6 billion in federal funding alone. Obviously, these schools will have the expenses to pay credentialed faculty and obtain additional resources. The only thing this shows is the financial dependency between elite education and the state. Besides this, schools that genuinely do have amazing programs are overlooked just because they don’t have as prominent a name.
The problem hits home just looking at examples like the University of Iowa. Iowa has a remarkable graduate program, especially for medical students, but not as many students apply because they’re so focused on superficial prestige. For the 2024 admissions cycle, Harvard University received a total of 54,008 applications, whereas only 27,770 students applied to the University of Iowa. If getting into an Ivy League school were truly about its academic reputation, then these numbers would not be skewed towards prestige by almost double the amount. It’s clear that the prospects of higher education aren’t the actual challenge, but rather a deeply rooted stigma about what it means to be accomplished. Measurements of intelligence have come to be based on a generalized admission letter, rather than true passion and hard work.
As a student suffering from the same problematic vision, reality has become a weight shrouding my perception of learning. And the expectations? Demoralizing. Extracurricular activities that perfectly align with your long-term career plans. Awards and honors that showcase your national and international merit. Supplemental essays that can essentially explain your reason for being, while not surpassing the strict word count limit. And of course, the simultaneous process of juggling an assortment of AP classes and the horrors of standardized tests. This isn’t West High’s idea of excellence; it’s burnout. How can a student “add to the character of a college campus” if their whole childhood has been spent overworking themselves?
To clarify, if a student can handle all these factors at the same time, that’s incredible. If a student loves what they’re doing, they know how much they can handle. They can set limits, be realistic with themselves and engage in what they genuinely care about. Unfortunately, for the majority, the problem lies within the intentions behind their ambitions. Today, education has turned into numbers; extra hobbies are only a lens for pursuing an image of being “well-rounded” and the definition of purpose has become an elite label.
The only solution starts with unraveling this toxic mindset. Are goals important? Yes. Is education important? One hundred percent. Is a one-track idea of success that defines your entire high school journey important? Absolutely not. If we, as students, don’t start to untangle the definition of intelligence from the word Ivy League, the culture around college isn’t going to change anytime soon. With acceptance rates only declining and admissions competition increasing, it’s crucial that students are educated about the truth behind these eight idealized dream schools. Because one thing’s for certain: If this current perspective of success continues, then education will be nothing more than a puppet in a Harvard admissions officer’s hands.
