Approximately two hours and 15 minutes ago, I received my admissions decision from Stanford: a rejection. The letter was far less condescending than I imagined it to be; in fact, the dean of admissions used such words as “humbled” and “complimented” in describing how they felt about my (and every other rejectee’s) application. He even directed the rejectees to an article he wrote for that includes two examples of current Stanford professors that were rejected as undergraduate candidates.
Anyway, I was mentally prepared for this. It was my mother who was the saddest; she went to give me a hug, and I was really reluctant to draw into the embrace for fear that doing so would make this a bigger deal than it honestly is.