Last weekend, I speed-walked past holiday shoppers and Saturday brunchers to the Capital One Cafe on Southport and Newport for my third college interview. I could write an entire article about the bizarreness of coffee houses that also double as banking locations, but something else about my weekend excursion struck me as strange. 

To my initial dismay, there were no open seats on the lower level of the cafe. While purchasing a latte, I asked the barista if there was additional seating upstairs, as I needed a table for my interview. In response, she asked if I was interviewing with Peets—the coffee provider at the Capital One Cafe—to which I awkwardly explained that I was anticipating a college interview. 

This was when I realized how the college process is weirdly humdrum, and how it’s turned me into a teenage robot.

Throughout the last year or so, I’ve been given conflicting advice about the college process by parents, friends, and college counselors. I’ve been told to be myself—candid, outgoing, and honest. Simultaneously, I’m encouraged to present a curated version of myself to admissions reps.

Like many other seniors who are in the thick of application season, I come to alum interviews with pre-prepared answers, embellish the details of my Activity Chart, and exaggerate the narratives told through my essays. 

Some may say that this exaggeration is a part of life: nearly every job application requires a resume and an interview, so why not start with college? To this, I ask, since when is applying to college a job? 

Many colleges say that they want intellectually curious students with a multitude of interests and community orientation—I can’t begin to tell you how many times I’ve heard the phrase “holistic review.” But after the year and a half that I’ve spent in the seemingly endless college process—complete with 15 college tours, five standardized test seatings, a growing number of interviews, and countless essays—I’ve been made to feel like a businessperson.

I was taught that college is a place to find oneself intellectually. As far as I used to be concerned, during one’s four years of undergraduate study, they could explore different areas of study and maybe find an answer to that age-old question: “what do you want to be?”

As I browse schools and laboriously draft essay after essay, I find myself creating a version of myself that I’m not sure fully reflects who I am. This is primarily because, at the age of 17, I haven’t figured out who I am and what I want to spend the rest of my life doing. 

As a result, I’m forced to rely on a carefully crafted archetype of myself and a few buzzword phrases that I think will secure my college spot.  

So, I did a bit of reflecting following my brief existential crisis standing across from the barista and lightly rehearsed interview. I’ve come to realize that, while interviewing and resume building are essential life skills, it’s OK to not have all the answers. It’s OK to mess up, and it’s OK to be scared. 

More than anything, It’s OK to shed your robotic features and share a glimpse of humanity. The people reading our applications are humans, too.  

For seniors currently wrapping up this daunting journey and the juniors who are just beginning it, here are my two cents: the college process will try to dehumanize you and boil you down to a list of numbers and titles. As decisions begin to roll around this holiday season, don’t let a college’s stamp of approval, or lack thereof, determine your self-worth. 

Although I’m not one for clichés, this is only the beginning, and everything truly happens for a reason.