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A few years ago, I happened to be visiting an East Bay high school the day one of the UC notifications went out. The students, dismissed from their last classes just a few minutes prior, were massed near the center of campus. I heard shrieks, saw jumping, fist-pumping, smiles, and tears of joy. I also saw kids brought to their knees. Others I saw speed-walking away, racing to keep their friends from seeing their tears of disappointment. One girl, I’ll never forget, noticed her friend’s dejected demeanor while her arms were still raised in the air. Both students were overcome with conflicting emotions. They just hugged each other.
This sort of hyper-dramatic scenario is hard to imagine at Sequoia, due as much to the less intensely competitive nature of our student body as to the lack of a central meeting place on our campus where you can find just about every student at dismissal. Not to say that college notification season at Sequoia doesn’t bring its share of ups and downs. I know our educators and parents drive home the messages about how it is within students’ power to choose their responses to factors beyond their control. That in fact, learning to control these responses is largely what “growing up” consists of. Nonetheless, dreams take hold and mindsets get fixed when it comes to college. It’s why wisdom is earned not granted.
I’m completely biased—unapologetically so—and thus, probably guilty of perpetuating this dynamic. If I hear that one of our students received an acceptance letter they were hoping for, I think to myself that the college made the right decision. Otherwise, my take is that the college screwed up. When I talk to our college coordinators, AVID teacher, counselors, parents, or anyone else who has good intel about what kind of news kids have received, my frame of mind is, “How did the colleges do this year? Did they do their jobs right and let all the Sequoia kids in?”
This month, as the news makes its way to me, I’ve been thinking of the variety of pathways that get recognized with prestigious college admissions. There is no ostensible formula whatsoever to predict outcomes when it comes to which exact classes one might take, which activities one might excel in, whose letters of recommendation carry the most weight, or which personal statement topics enhance their application. Every kid, every application, every year, is truly different. I’ve been analyzing transcripts this year. The data substantiates my hunch.
Some might find this arbitrariness discouraging, but to me it’s inspiring. How remarkable that such a breadth of class combinations can lead to outstanding outcomes. One of the great privileges afforded by attending a large school like Sequoia is the variety of rigorous pathways on which students might embark in preparation for their post-secondary academic career. In core academics, such as Social Studies or Science, students have options for which courses they might take. This is the same for electives such as Visual/Performing Arts or World Languages. In terms of extra-curriculars, our community teems with ways in which students might pursue their interests and develop as leaders. For the last ten years, having made space with disappointed twelfth graders and high-fived elated ones, I can share this wisdom.
For parents of 12th graders, see them this month where they are—pretending they have it all figured out but still very much processing the finality of high school and the uncertainty of what comes next. For parents of 9th through 11th graders, keep this perspective in mind as a salve for the burden of choice and the sting of second-guessing.
And most importantly, take every opportunity you can to assure your students that they are a gift to the world and that their daily growth is a miracle. Spring break seems like a pretty good time for a few extra hugs.
Have a great week.
Best,
Sean
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