David Devore has gone viral not just once, but twice in his life. In 2009, as a child, Devore had been the star of the infamous “David After Dentist” YouTube video that racked up well north of a hundred million views. A decade later, Devore re-entered the spotlight with a jubilant video showing him, now 18 years old, joyfully receiving the news that he had been admitted to the University of Florida’s Class of 2023.
In an interview with UF’s student newspaper, The Independent Florida Alligator, Devore exclaimed: “It was my number one school. UF is where I am meant to be.”
As a Gator, this warmed my heart. I can already imagine the adventures Devore is going to have at my beloved alma mater. Yet, I couldn’t help but think of Devore’s joy, and my own complicated emotions about college admissions from over a decade and a half ago, when I saw the news about the FBI’s “Operation Varsity Blues,” which implicated Hollywood actresses Felicity Huffman and Lori Loughlin, among others, in a ring of bribery and fraud intended to get their children in elite universities under false pretenses.
It is college admissions season, and throughout the spring over half of today’s high school seniors will find out whether or not the future they imagined for themselves will become real. For some, like Devore, they will excitedly discover that things have worked out, that they have gained entrance to the school they hoped to attend. But for many, many others, there will be some heartbreak, a sense that their years of hard work were going to lead to a glorious destination where they fear they will no longer arrive.
In April 2002, after four years of hard work in high school, I was ready for what I hoped was next: to finally live outside my home state of Florida for a while, to experience a new way of life, a new culture, a new environment. Somewhere where I’d need boots. I applied to a few schools, of course, but Georgetown was where I’d set my sights first and foremost. At age 18, I was unaware of just how fortunate I was and had carefully planned out the rest of my life, starting with living in D.C., studying political science, dabbling in campus debating societies, and finding people who finally got me. As Devore said of UF, I said of Georgetown: “It was where I was meant to be.”
Arriving home from school to discover the thin envelope with the Georgetown logo was crushing. “While we regret to inform you that we are unable to offer you a position in the first-year class at this time, you have been placed on our Waiting List …” It was almost more brutal that way; the uncertainty and the kind assurances that you’re almost enough. So close, but not quite.
I consoled myself by writing atrocious poetry, learning to play a few guitar chords, and repeatedly listening to Billy Joel’s “Captain Jack” despite not understanding that the lyrics are definitely not about the sorrow of a suburban middle-class white girl who is sad she didn’t get into a prestigious university. I licked my wounds and tried to figure out what on earth I was going to do next with my life.
What was next was the University of Florida, and thank the heavens. I could sing the praises of my alma mater all day long, but suffice to say my experience there gave me all the things I never knew I needed. I had wanted to be at a small, private, urban college, but instead found myself expanding my interests and honing my social skills in the sprawling SEC campus environment. I had wanted to focus intensively on the study of politics, but found myself most enjoying courses on meteorology and Slavic culture. I didn’t join the debate team or take the LSAT; I joined a sorority, a choice which would have been unfathomable to me as a high schooler.
And in the end, I made it to Washington after all. I came, I interned, I built a career that I’m proud of. I was also deeply fortunate that life was not make-or-break for me on the back of a single college admissions letter, even if it sure felt that way for a few weeks at the end of high school. Had things gone “to plan,” I might have gotten my character in a Tom Wolfe novel bewilderment at elite privilege out of the way a few years earlier. When Tracy Flick, the lead character in Election, arrives at the film’s fictionalized version of Georgetown, she notes, “A lot of them were just spoiled little rich kids who didn’t know how lucky they had it.” I’m sure there were opportunities I missed while I was also missing out on accumulating student debt.
There’s plenty that has been written about the advantages of attending elite universities, the networks they unlock and benefits they confer upon graduates. The alleged crimes of those like Loughlin are all the more infuriating when you think about the way the privileges of the super-elite compound upon themselves, with worthy students turned away from the opportunities afforded by prestigious institutions in order to make room for the children of the rich and unscrupulous.
But to any high school senior out there who is feeling heavyhearted this spring about getting rejected from their dream school, I simply wish to offer you a word of hope. It has happened to a lot of us.
For me, going to Florida, somewhere that wasn’t where I intended to go but wound up finding my home, helped me to become someone who did begin to grasp how lucky she had it. It stretched me in ways that weren’t part of my “plan” but were totally, completely necessary. And all those things I thought I could only find at my “dream school”? Turns out there are students on every campus who are ambitious student government types, or who want to sit around and debate economics for fun, or offer classes on the things you love, or whatever it is you think you’re looking for out of college.
You just have to open your eyes and look for them.
