A long time ago (let’s call it 1984 for sake of argument, because that’s when it was), when high school students received college acceptances or rejections in the mail (you know, with envelopes and stuff) exclusively, I got an acceptance to the school I really, really wanted to attend. When I’d first applied, I hadn’t been all that convinced, but by the time the envelope was in my hands, I was sure. I opened it and was ecstatic. Then I read the part about the financial aid package, which was a big fat zero, and my elation deflated.
It made no sense — my parents had crunched the numbers, and it seemed clear that without some aid, they’d have to mortgage the house, or sell my brother (an idea I semi-floated), to afford it. How could this be? This was where I felt I was supposed to go, where I’d already imagined myself. It wasn’t just the course offerings; the faculty-student ratio; the quirky history; the long tradition of liberal arts education; the prestige. It was the day the previous fall that I’d been on campus, walking on a path near one of the older academic buildings, with its stone archway, through which streams of the most interesting-looking and fascinating students were walking, that had grabbed hold of me and wouldn’t let go. I remember feeling, right at that moment, that I needed to join that stream of students, leave my high-school self behind and find out who I was on that path, under those falling leaves, amid those old, old buildings.
This is the spot, Vassar's Blodgett Hall
In the midst of the crushing realization that I wouldn’t be able to go after all, my father put his hands on my shoulders, looked me in the eyes — he looked sad, too — and said, “I don’t think we can do it, honey. I’m so, so sorry.”
My story has a happy ending; it turns out that my father had made an error when filling out (with pencil! On paper!) the financial aid forms; a self-employed businessman, the way he’d interpreted the forms meant he gave the erroneous impression that he had a salaried job and his business, effectively doubling his on-paper income. Once that was discovered and straightened out, a generous aid package came my way and I sent in (by mail! with a stamp!) my deposit to become a member of Vassar College’s class of 1988.
Now my alma mater is all over the news for a grievous error that was made in the recent batch of early-decision acceptances. What happened was not that they rejected hopeful students who should have been admitted; instead, a placeholder letter of acceptance for applicants was posted on a site they could access, and left there for just long enough to give a number of students the false news that they’d been accepted to their first-choice school. When they checked back (after making phone calls, popping champagne, and, I’m sure, as I had, imagining themselves in their chosen school), they found out the truth, that they were rejected.
It’s important to note, in case you missed the story: It’s not that Vassar revoked any acceptances. The disappointed students were rejected on their merits. The error was in giving them the false impression that they had been accepted, the cyber equivalent of slipping the wrong letter into the envelope. (It should also be noted that Vassar has a financial-needs-blind admissions policy.)
Those students likely had the same crushing feeling that I did when I thought what was mine had been snatched away. Thing is, it never was theirs. I’m not in any way dismissing the seriousness of the mistake. Catharine Hill, Vassar’s president, issued an apology; families were called by admissions staff for more personal mea culpas; application fees were refunded. All of which feels fair from the outside, though it does nothing to take the pain, shame and rage away. However, once a mistake is made, even a really, really horrible one, what else can be done besides sincere apologies, a promise to fix glitchy systems, a public accounting of the mistakes? From the inside, of course, it can feel as though more should be done.
Some of the students and their families, it seems, do want more to be done — specifically, that they should be admitted anyway. If it was theirs once — albeit very briefly, and even if in fact it wasn’t really theirs — it should be theirs again,or it’s equivalent (I’ve seen comments — not from these students, to be clear — on blog posts that suggest the students get their first year at their second-choice college paid for by Vassar). That’s like, as a classmate of mine wrote in a comment on one of the many an opinion pieces about the debacle, the rare times a bank screws up and deposits $10,000 in your account, when you only slid a $1,000 check into the ATM. Even if that little receipt in your hand says you’ve got five figures, you don’t, and it’s no sense arguing with the bank that they “owe” you $9K for their mistake.
I do not dismiss those prospective students’ pain, or their parents’ justified anger over the treatment their kids received. I’d feel it too. I’d be furious, I’d feel like marching into Ms. Hill’s office and demanding she fix it, somehow, in some way that would remove my child’s pain and make it all okay again. But I wouldn’t do it.
I wouldn’t turn my anger and pain on behalf of my child outward and try to retroactively fix a problem in an attempt to make it go away. I contend, in fact, that there’s not a lot of difference between that impulse (“I’ll make that school take my kid! They have to! He deserves it!”) and the parents of much younger kids who argue their children into a better grade on the first-grade spelling test (“His ‘n’ looks like an ‘h’! That’s what he meant! He deserves the perfect grade!”).
The fact is, if you write n’s that look like h’s, you’re going to miss that point on the test, and it’s your mistake to own. Vassar owned its mistake, however clumsily (and you can, and folks have, argued how they could have handled it better, or differently). And now the kids have to bear up under the weight of being briefly granted what they wanted, and then being disappointed to find out that they didn’t make the grade after all.
It is a bitter disappointment to discover that someone else’s mistake can have such an impact on your life. But it’s going to be a long life, and it’s going to be filled with disappointments big and small. It’s going to be filled with problems their parents can’t fix the way they used to mollify a poor showing at the spelling bee with an ice cream sundae, the way everyone got a trophy just for showing up. All the parental impulse to fix, smooth out, or argue away does is to give kids the damaging notion that they deserve what they haven’t earned.
The best thing those kids’ parents can do is to take their kids’ shoulders in their hands, look them in the eye, and say, “I’m so, so sorry honey.”
Two words. THANK YOU!!!!!! Yes, it sucks, sucks, sucks for these kids, but guess what? Life goes on. This will not be their last disappointment. It was a mistake – it wasn’t done to intentionally hurt or harm the students. Thank you for recognizing that – there’s a whole lot of parents out there that can’t.
Thank you for your reply, Jennifer! It strikes me over and over again how parents (not just these parents) take a justifiable hurt their child has experienced, and spend as much or more time trying to right a wrong (that can’t or shouldn’t necessarily be righted) as they do trying to teach the child to make the best of a bad situation, grow and learn from it, and move on.
Denise
Excellent piece. I wish that many people who really need to read this would.
When my oldest son was in grade 6, the year before high school here in Quebec, he applied to an all-boys private school that he really wanted to attend. Although it wouldn’t be easy, we agreed that he should try, for a variety of reasons. Now, I don’t know if we were naive or arrogant, but it never occurred to us that he wouldn’t be accepted. Until he received his rejection letter. Having a 12-year-old boy sobbing in your arms because “They don’t want me, I’m not good enough,” is so heart breaking that I did want to march to the school and demand an explanation. How dare they refuse my son! But I didn’t.
I told my son, if you want to attend the school so badly, write a letter to the principal and explain why you want to be on the waiting list. It has to come from you. So he did. In his 12-year-old way, he wrote a heartfelt letter about why he wanted to go.
The story has a happy ending. He was accepted. It was the best decision we ever made when it came to our kids’ education. The best two decisions: applying for the school and then encouraging him to write the letter for a second chance.
Now, my two older ones (including the one I just wrote about) are waiting to hear about their grad school applications. I’m sitting here, hoping that they will get what they want but I do know that they will manage, whatever is thrown their way.
Good lord. This is a First World Problem for sure. I feel for the kids, but I could punch the parents for behaving like entitled jerks. I didn’t get to go to my first choice school. I was disappointed at first, then I got over it and had a great college experience. I’ve never looked back, and over the years I’ve felt satisfied with the way things worked out every time I meet an alum from my original first choice school
Life is full of disappointment and the sooner kids learn (are allowed) to deal with it, the better. I hope Vassar has no intention of caving to pressure. They’ve done all they can reasonably be expected to do.
I did get into my first choice school. But no financial aid was offered and my dad didn’t make any mistakes. So I couldn’t go because they just could not afford it. It was a crushing disappointment. But now, almost 12 years out of college, I can see how it worked out anyway. I got a great education at a state school and emerged with significantly less student loan debt than many other friends. I was close enough to live at home and enjoy my mother’s cooking and not have to share a bathroom with dorm people. And of course if I’d been at the other school, I wouldn’t have met my husband and had my two amazing kids.
Vassar’s mistake is unfortunate, but it’s just that–a mistake. They don’t owe anyone anything other than an apology. Any parent who thinks their child is entitled to be let in because of a mistake and not because they have earned a place needs a serious attitude adjustment.
I agree, Denise. Rachel wants to apply to Vassar and we are hoping enough people will be pissed that the applications will be fewer next year…haha. In any case, we are visiting in March and I will call you to discuss!
Loren,
Vassar’s a tricky place; it’s not easy to be at all the time (socially, but also because it so unrelentingly asks you to question everything you think you understand about everything, which can be emotionally exhausting), but it’s easy to love, and, with time and age and experience, one loves it all the more. I hope Rachel gets in, and yes, let me know what you all think and if you want to talk! You know, the main reason I applied was that Bill Behre just talked and talked and talked about it, until I applied mostly to shut him up.
Denise
I graduated from Vassar in 2005, and I can tell you that going to Vassar was one of the best decisions I ever made. Denise is right that life at Vassar – both academic and social – does make you question absolutely everything you thought you knew about yourself and the world, which can be difficult. But it’s also so rewarding and challenging and identity-forming, in a good way. I wouldn’t be who I am today if I hadn’t gone to Vassar, and if I could I would go back and do it all again in a heartbeat. Vassar is truly a special place, and I consider myself extremely fortunate to have spent 4 years of my life there. I hope your Rachel gets in, and loves it as much as I did!
I write another response earlier but essentially agree with most of the above. Yes, it is an unfortunate and hurttful disappointment, however, they should not get in because of someone else’s mistake. The school has done all it in good faith can do–apologize and offer to pay their fees. They can go on the regular list and take their chances with everyone else. They did not change their position in reliance and thus suffer a detriment.
I did not get in on early admissions. I was then accepted at my first choice but since it was out of state and I got more money staying in NY I attended it. I loved every minute and will always cherish my experiences. If I had attended a coed schoolmi probably would not have graduated “cum laude”
Life is full of ups and down and often the things we want the most are not meant for us. This is what these parents should be teaching their kids. I did not get into my first choice at graduate school but later attended and graduated from Harvard. I got into but couldn’t attend law school the first year because of no money but second time around received a full tuition scholarship.
Bottom line — most times God knows better what is for us than we do . Like is what we make it –so suck it up and make the most of wherever you go. VC’64;HU’67;NYU’74;BC’91
It
Corrections:”I wrote”; “hurtful”; “I probably”; Sorry, for the mistakes–this i-phone is small and sometimes makes corrections on its own.
P.S. Forgot to say, I was the senior counselor and College Advisor for 24 years in a NYC high school soni have worked with thousands if students and parents. As the old song says: “If you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with!”
This I phone keeps changing my spelling:”so I have worked”; “of students”. I do know how to spell-)
Thanks for taking the time to write the piece. I agree completely. Well done.
Thanks for so intelligent a response to this unfortunate situation. Sadly, the lessons that these and other children are learning from parents who require no accountability is completely messing with a whole generation of young workers. This has bitten me on my abundant tusch twice this past week, and I tire of it, making my sympathy for these families who demand attendance diminish. First, a friend posted on her facebook page that her son needed 70 hours of court ordered community service, and one mutual friend posted that I was the perfect person to talk to, as I work for a non-profit. As I trust any son of hers, and we could use the help, I was happy to oblige. Turns out he needs 70 hours BY FEBRUARY 14. This isn’t doable in my world, but somehow it becomes other people’s problem. We are doing our best to work with him, and I wrote a letter to the court asking for an extension (turns out he is an excellent worker!), but somehow it isn’t his error that he is down to D-day. On the tail of this issue, a young girl who works 20 hours/week for us through a state-funded program decided that, though one particular project was a part of the job, she decided that she didn’t want her 20 hours to include this. She then sent an email the night before that she was ill and would most likely not be in. I asked for an update and sent her an email with her hours for this week; I received no response. I sent another email on Sunday, again with no response. I called her case worker/supervisor, and she had no better luck. This morning I received an email stating that she would be in today for half of her time, and if I “urgently” wanted to reach her, I should call her and not email. EXCUSE ME? WHO WORKS FOR WHOM??? Somehow, she is doing ME a favor working and getting a paycheck! Her no-show is my issue, not hers. Sadly, these two just confirm more of the same. Entitled to whatever they deem they want, with nothing required to earn or do or accomplish, and sadly it is parents who perpetuate it. Your blog hit the nail on the head. End of story.
I understand. Thanks to parents this generation is totally spoiled. They think they should be paid for showing up! When I go into a store I purposely avoid a young person. Why? Because they are only working to pay their bills and don’t know anything. If I ask for something they don’t know what I an talking about or “that’s not my department!” I tell them their department is checking in and checking out and hiding in the aisles in between!
Unfortunate but it’s their parents fault. Am writing a book now entitled “Don’t Tell Me What To Do: Just Pay The Bill–Raising Teens in the 21st Century”
Oh the “That’s not my job!”ers!
Yes, honey, it’s your job. Unless it is illegal, immoral, or unethical, your job is to do whatever you can to advance the interests of your employer.
I did not enjoy cleaning the poop off the bathroom floor when I was a lifeguard and the boys decided it would be funny to defecate on the floor instead of in the toilet. But part of the job was cleaning the area.
Everyone has to deal with poop at some point in her career. Sometimes it’s literal. If you’re lucky, it’s just figurative. But they don’t pay you good money for having fun.
Thanks for a very thorough look at the fact that we are all human. Disappointments happen. That’s part of life. How both parents and students cope shows what they are made of. I wonder what the demanding, insistent parent teaches his or her child.
Best of luck with the book you are writing.
B. Lynn Goodwin
http://www.writeradvice.com
Author of You Want Me to Do WHAT? Journaling for Caregivers
Misread the post above. Should have said, “Best of luck with the book you are writing, Linda.”
Oh my. A glitch. How human of me. Not that I think it is in any way comparable, but people make mistakes.
Lynn (again)
These are the kinds of things that build … um, what’s that word … we have been missing it for a while in our society … oh yeah, CHARACTER!
This story really tugs on me. When I was applying to colleges, Kenyon College was my top choice from the get-go. I applied early decision, and got in (complete with handwritten welcome note from the Admissions Director complimenting me on my essay), and I didn’t get enough financial aid to make it feasible. (My dad is also self-employed, coincidentally). I was told I could re-apply for regular decision to see if there would be more funding in that round, and sadly I did, along with four other colleges. (I shudder to think of kids who apply to 15 or 20 these days). I got into all of them, but once again, Kenyon let me down on aid. I ended up pleasing my parents by going to the college with the most generous aid package. And you know what? I got a great education! I made lots of awesome friends! I edited the school paper, had a great job at the library, and also met my future husband. So, yes, was it crushing to have my first choice dangled in front of me just out of my reach, but I still had an awesome college experience. That’s part of growing up and moving on.
Fellow ’88 Vassar grad here. Like you, I loved the place and loved the experience. I will be forever grateful for my financial aid and generous parents.
Even more, though, I will be grateful that they were “mean”. They taught me to be independent, that learning new things means failing a lot, and that your response to unfairness is what counts.
Too bad the parents in this article aren’t teaching their kids the same way. Fixing or moving past a mistake is one thing – bullying and arguing to make the mistake a reality is the wrong way to go.