To everyone in the adult world, the months between January and mid-April have little to no significance other than it being tax season (which is another ugh for another time). But to all the high school betches-in-training out there, it’s arguably the most stressful time of your life: the college admissions process. I say arguably because lol you’re, what, 17? Try paying your rent, utilities, and bar tab and then get back to me about Harvard rejecting you (newsflash: they do that to like, practically everyone).
Hopefully by now you’ve already squeezed your tutor for all $500/hour she’s worth, gotten your English teacher to proofread your essay, and annoyed the shit out of your friends, family, and guidance counselor about how torturous it is to wait to hear where you’ll be blacked out the next four years of your life. But if not, that’s cool because we will guide you through the college admissions process, from start to finish. Sorry if you’re a senior and half this article is no longer applicable to you, but like not really tho.
Do: Get an SAT tutor. Like, I’m sorry, but the books aren’t going to cut it—you know you’re not going to actually do shit to prepare unless some over-eager retired teacher guilts you into doing practice tests every week.
Don’t: Torture yourself with vocab words. My tutor had me study a list of like, 25 words every week to memorize. Do you know how many of those vocab words that I didn’t know before showed up on the SAT? One. Literally. Like, why did I even bother? I guess a bonus is I still know the definition of recalcitrant (defiant and unapologetic), but have I ever used it in a sentence, or thought about it until just now? Nope.
Don’t: Stress about your essay. I’m not a college admissions counselor but I reallyyyy don’t think your 2-page essay about that time you rescued a dog from the side of the road and nursed it back to health is going to make or break your admission. Unless you’re either functionally illiterate or writing an essay about losing your virginity (a very bad idea in case you couldn’t guess) I don’t think anybody on the committee is going to GAF one way or another.
Okay that’s pretty much all the golden nuggets of wisdom I can bestow on you for the application process. Now onto the waiting game. It’s pretty simple because all you need to do is wait but for the overthinkers out there, here ya go:
Do: Take a Xanax. Like honestly, just chill. You might think that your world is teetering on the edge of crashing and burning before your eyes, but that’s kinda like everything in your life in high school. If God forbid you don’t get into your top choice, I promise you, you won’t spontaneously combust. Plus, like we said before, does it really matter where you go to undergrad, since you won’t remember 75% of it anyway?
Don’t: Be that Wall Street Journal girl and go on a public rampage against all the schools who dared to reject your precious, special snowflake self. What was her name again? Oh, right, I can Google it and find out because that shit will haunt her forever, and all I had to do was type in “Wall Street Journal College Rejection.” Not about to get into an affirmative action debate (because as so many of you commenters like to point out, this isn’t Salon), but you have all of college to fuck up your life and chances for future employment. That’s def one thing you don’t want to get a head start on.
Do: Just be happy that you got in somewhere, and that your dad’s paying for it. Time for me to play the role of Your Grandma for a bit and say there are a lot of people out there who are way less fortunate than you are. Like, people actually take out loans to get through college. People actually get jobs to pay for college. It’s horrible, I know! Take a deep breath, betch. That stuff happens to other people, not someone like you.
So to all the betches-in-training still waiting to hear back from the sadists at the admissions committee (is anyone still waiting to hear back? Are deposits still due May 1st? Have you all made your decisions yet? Idfk): good luck. Yay, class of 2019! Holy fuck, I’m old.