Wednesday, February 19, 2020 // The Statement
6B
I
t was early February, and a woman
with short brown hair was leading
me through a long, twisting hallway
in the Student Activities Building. I held
my coat in my arms, feeling stunned until
we arrived at an empty office with just a
chair and a sad, barren desk. Once inside,
the woman directed me to sit at a small,
round table as she took her place in the
chair at the desk behind me, watching.
“You have one hour,” she said. It seemed
like a short time to look at everything
and take notes by hand, as phones were
prohibited during this process. Before
I could get a word in, a stack of papers
was placed in front of me: my college
admissions file.
I had this meeting in my calendar
for a month, and I had been anxiously
awaiting it. When the semester started
back up in January, I heard whispers
about University of Michigan students
requesting to view their admissions file,
sparked by a YouTube video uploaded by
a student at the Ross School of Business.
I was intrigued and wanted to investigate
further, so I let myself fall into a dark hole
of YouTube videos and Reddit threads.
Similar videos existed of students from
other schools reacting to their admissions
files, and reactions across them were
mixed — there were both positive and
negative
evaluations.
Reddit
threads
vaguely described the process, with some
users warning others about imposter
syndrome.
I
felt
apprehensive
and
considered avoiding this whole process,
but my curiosity was too strong. When I
came out of my mini investigation, I came
to a decision: I was going to request to see
my admissions file.
The ability to view college admissions
files is nothing new. Through the Family
Educational Rights and Privacy Act —
more commonly known as FERPA —
schools are required to provide students
who currently attend the school with
access to their educational records if they
request it. This includes law enforcement
records,
employment
records
and,
of course, admissions files. Once a
student requests these records, FERPA’s
guidelines require the school to comply
within 45 days.
Though FERPA was signed into law
by President Gerald Ford in 1974, I didn’t
know much about the process until
stumbling upon Jack Liu’s video earlier
this year. Last year, my senior year of high
school, college seemed so far away. The
possibility of seeing my admissions files
was something I hadn’t thought about
until I was on campus.
When I was in the process of applying,
college admissions always seemed like
a secretive process, but the lawsuit filed
by a group of Asian American students
against Harvard University re-opened the
conversation
around
the
college
admissions
process, especially since it has forced
Harvard to reveal the factors that their
admissions office considers. Additionally,
ever since a group of anonymous Stanford
University students came forward and
urged others to request their records
through FERPA in 2015, students have
grown more curious — the University
of California, Berkeley, for example,
reported that they had experienced
a spike in file requests shortly after the
Stanford news. In recent years, there has
been more and more coverage that details
how FERPA allows students to request
their admission files, which has likely led
to a rise in requests.
The decision to see your file is a hot
topic, too. While many students on the
internet, like University of Pennsylvania
student Christy Qiu, appear to recognize
that the act of viewing their admissions
files was revealing to an extent and
promotes transparency, there are still
those who caution people from doing so.
Many of the comments I read on Reddit
warned fellow students from viewing
their files because it might lead to feeling
demoralized. Seeing yourself on paper,
evaluated by people who have most likely
never met you, can be a disheartening
process.
When I spoke to some University
students about the admissions process,
it was clear students felt similarly. “The
college admissions process gave me a
ton of anxiety,” LSA freshman Anya
Dengerink-Van Til said. “I don’t want to
reawaken those anxieties.”
I’ll admit that even though I felt
confident about wanting to see my file,
I was still nervous about it. There was
definitely something terrifying about
reading what people thought of me. After
all, I find even regular criticism to be hard
to accept at times; I even get hurt when my
mom tells me she doesn’t like the sweater
I’m wearing. But there was a part of me
that feared something beyond criticism
— a part of me that wondered if I was
somehow lesser than those who had been
accepted before me, especially because I
had been deferred.
There was one thing that pushed
me to go forward with seeing my
application. I was far enough away
from that version of myself to view the
file somewhat objectively; even if it was
only a year ago, I felt different from the
girl who had filled out all those forms
and written all those application essays.
A year ago, I was insecure, and more
than anything, I cared about how I
looked in comparison to other students.
I wanted to seem like the best. Passions
came second. But a lot has changed
between then and now. My mentality
about school is completely different —
I attend class because I want to learn,
and I pick my organizations because I
genuinely care about them.
Back at that small, round table, I flipped
through the papers anxiously. Any actual
evaluations made by the admissions
office were at the bottom of the stack,
compiled into two pages; the majority
of the papers were printed pages of my
Common Application. My extracurricular
activities,
grade
point
average
and
test scores were listed multiple times
throughout the file, accompanied by a few
handwritten comments. One admissions
officer in particular had specifically
pointed out two of my extracurriculars,
in which I held a position of leadership
in, specifically: Model United Nations as
head delegate and National Honor Society
as an officer. Both of these, from what I
could tell, seemed to be good examples
of leadership, which made me an “EXC
stud.”: Excellent student.
This was something that struck me. In
high school, Model UN was important to
me. It was one of those clubs that helped
me grow more confident with public-
speaking, which I’d always felt insecure
about. NHS, on the other hand, never felt
personal to me. Sure, I was proud to have
been elected as an officer by my class, but
it felt obligatory — especially at the time
— and I had never experienced personal
growth in NHS like I had in Model UN.
Seeing those two extracurriculars next
to each other as if they were equal felt
absolutely bizarre to me. Yet, they were
there, right in front of my eyes and printed
in ink.
As I continued through the admissions
officers’ evaluations, there was another
comment that stuck out to me. Each
admissions officer ranked me with a
single digit number. It was printed next
to my name, twice, above each section of
their comments. To me, it was clear that
it was a ranking. But there was no way of
knowing what it meant. It didn’t say what
the number was out of or if it was simply
a doodle from a bored admissions officer.
Was it meant to be a score? Why was I
that number and not another one? And
was it a good thing, or a bad thing? There
was no way of telling, and the uncertainty
terrified me.
For some time after, I lingered on the
number that haunted my admissions file for
a bit. The mystery behind the number was
somewhat uncomfortable, but I quickly
realized and accepted there was nothing
to be done about it. Besides, I reasoned, at
this point it’s not as if it matters. Seeing
that number hadn’t changed anything
about myself in the present, and it’s not as
if they had actually ranked me as a person
with those numbers. They had ranked
me as an applicant — an amalgamation of
test scores and clubs and leadership roles.
Regardless of their comments, evaluations
and rankings, I still have pride in who I
am. I am still a thinker, a writer, a friend
and a student. Regardless of admissions,
I will continue to grow and establish my
place here.
BY CHELSEA PADILLA, STATEMENT COLUMNIST
Just a number?
ILLUSTRATION BY NOAH FINERRR