On prom night, a classmate approached me.
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you.”
They were referring to how I was not going to attend an Ivy League.
Their words made it feel like every moment and accomplishment suddenly became invalid if not followed by the “right” acceptance letter.
And to an extent, I understand where they were coming from. As products of a high-achieving environment, it can be natural to measure success as binary: you either “made it” or you didn’t. Senior year is the ultimate compilation of external metrics: rankings, admissions, prestige — validation galore!
But admissions officers cannot know us from a 650-word essay. The vast majority of the 1.5 million monthly viewers of the SJS Seniors Instagram have never met us. And yet, we tie so much of our worth to their opinions and decisions. Why?
Let’s be clear. There is nothing wrong with ambition. There is nothing wrong with wanting to attend an Ivy League school. But there is something deeply unhealthy about attaching one’s entire sense of self-worth to achievements that they ultimately have very little control over.
When you are driven by extrinsic factors, life becomes transactional. Every sacrifice is an investment expecting a return. A late night study session means you deserve a better grade than someone else, and when things don’t go as planned, it’s easy to feel cheated.
I spent nearly 12 years swimming competitively, yet I am not a recruited athlete. Assuming I swam an hour each day, that’s 4,380 hours spent in the pool. That’s 4,380 hours I’ll never get back. That’s 4,380 hours I could have been spending doing something else.
But I do not regret a single hour because swimming served a greater purpose than helping me “make it.” It led to some of my best friendships, memories and lessons about myself. If I had gauged success purely through outcomes, it would have blinded me to everything meaningful that happened along the way.
When you evaluate your life through your own metrics — quality relationships, stability, fulfillment — you are the only one who gets to decide how well you’re doing. Your identity does not collapse after opening a decision portal or losing the 100-meter fly.
So, listen to best-selling author James Clear, who wrote “Atomic Habits,” when he says, “You do not rise to the level of your goals. You fall to the level of your systems.”
To parents and teachers, help your kids and students create those systems.
To the St. John’s community, stop perpetuating the idea that success is measured through extrinsic rewards. Yes, it’s easier and definitely effective, but it does not encourage us to become the best version of ourselves.
To my fellow seniors, Ivy or not, we made it.
