The 2025 Admissions Cycle & My Unexpected Professional Spiral

Of the talented, hard-working, and how-in-the-world-did-you-manage-to-do-ALL-OF-THIS-in-four-years-of-high-school students that I worked with in the Elevated Admissions Class of ‘25, two stand out. Yes, they stand out on merit alone. However, they also stand out because their admissions journeys forced me to reckon with some hard truths regarding the state of admissions (and, ultimately, the supporting role that I play).

In the ‘80s and ‘90s, the landscape used to be that if you were in the top 5% of your class, had a 1400 on your SATs, and held a leadership role in your school—president of your class, captain of the soccer team, first chair flutists, editor of the school newspaper—and you had the financial means, you could land at a top 25 school. 

Dorothy, we are not in Kansas anymore. And, we haven’t been there for decades. When I launched my practice eleven years ago, a seasoned consultant who had been practicing since 2002 intoned, “It’s more whimsical than it used to be. It’s not as straightforward.” Ask any admissions consultant or officer, and they long for the relative stability of a decade ago. If you were to ask me a few months ago, I would have told you that I was longing for the comparative stability of 2024’s cycle. 

That’s why these two students in the class of 2025 are particularly notable to me.

Brian* was within 40 points of a perfect SAT score, snagged nine 5s on AP exams, earned international recognition in robotics, was president of his class, was captain of two varsity sports, claimed the highest presidential service medals, was an Eagle Scout, mentored youth in robotics and literacy initiatives, and was interested in the disparities in education. And, he still managed to find time to hang out with friends and family (I am not entirely sure of when).

Hedi* earned a 35 on her ACT on her first sitting, was in every honor society available, spoke three languages, wrote for multiple publications, volunteered for a local political group (including canvassing for multiple contentious races), and she did all this on a green card. She could not wait to earn her right to vote. Additionally, she played a varsity sport, revived her school’s Model UN program, served as editor-in-chief of the school’s newspaper, and founded and maintained a blog on international politics. 

As December came, we waited in eager anticipation for their acceptances. A few positive acceptances rolled in, and as we waited on their top choices, I was 98% certain that Brian would hear good news for his Early Decision (ED I), especially given that the institution was need aware (i.e. they consider if you have financial need, and he was that rare and fortunate applicant whose family could pay the full tuition). I was more skeptical of Hedi’s early acceptance, as she had applied restrictive early action (REA) to one of the most competitive Ivies (yes, there is such a thing). She and her family understood this wild-card scenario, and she wouldn’t have been okay with “not shooting for the stars.” 

For all of my students, early acceptances are welcome, as they alleviate some of the pressure and uncertainty for the remainder of the senior year.

Both Hedi and Brian were denied. Not deferred. Denied. I told myself all the things that I tell families. There are no guarantees. The process is becoming increasingly unpredictable. This has nothing to do with your students' accomplishments or qualifications. And yet. And yet. For all parties involved, including the consultant who wrote this post, it felt disproportionately personal.

They handled it with grace. Pushed on to the next round. Began revising their quiver of essays to prepare to submit for the second round. 

Internally and behind closed doors, I struggled to find my footing in grace. Of the hundreds of students of all types I have worked with over the last eleven years, I didn’t have an inkling that Brian would have been denied. Could I have done anything differently? Could a recommendation have gone awry? Did his interview go sideways? 

We worked over the next month to finalize their applications. Both Brian and Hedi made the gutsy decision to forgo ED II applications and cast wide nets. (Here again, surprising their consultant and making me respect their resolve to not commit to a college that they weren’t sure of just because it upped their chances of landing at “the most selective institution.”) 

We made like buttercups and buckled up. We were in for the long haul. 

The EA Class of ‘25 wintered, my text and session frequency waned, and I had the mindspace to reflect. I came to accept that Brian’s denial would forever flummox me and that it would never make sense. There is no such thing as a sure thing in admissions, especially with acceptance rates below 20%, 10%, and in some cases, the single-digit acceptance range.  

The Three Tenets to Live and Apply By are something I share with my students repeatedly. I remind them that whenever they feel they are spiraling or unsure of what the next step should be, they should remind themselves of these three tenets: 1. Start on the inside. 2. Choose excellence over perfection. 3. Be proactive. 

I followed these myself. Why do I do this work? Why is it important? How can I be of the best service to my students? My families? How can this process help them evolve? How can this work help me evolve? 

Grace requires strength, faith, and confidence, and I had a number of months where reflection over time was needed to find my footing again. And that journey looks different for everyone. I began remembering the answers to my questions again, but as with any personal evolution, the reminders thankfully started to feel like a part of me. To be an educator is to meet a student where they are. It is to provide a pathway to gain knowledge, both concrete and abstract. It is to ask the student questions that allow them to elevate their confidence, ability to take risks, and potential to grow. To serve the students and families I work with is to provide them with counsel and space to make choices that allow them to control the aspects of the process they can, and let go of the aspects they cannot. As we approached the regular decision dates, I crossed my fingers and my toes. I marveled at everything the entire class had accomplished and at their evolution from our first sessions. They had done the work. 

Regular decision decisions were released, and Hedi and Brian received acceptances as well as guaranteed transfer and waitlist offers. The universe was apparently determined to give all of us the opportunities to continue to practice the Three Tenets to Live and Apply By. While Hedi was delighted with her choices, Brian was determined to pursue numerous waitlist opportunities. 

By June, the EA Class of ‘25 had all made their final decisions. Hedi and Brian ultimately decided to deposit at schools with single-digit acceptance rates after all. But, they were doing so with a greater understanding that their future was in their hands, not the ranking of the institution where they will spend the next four years. Their journeys taught me a valuable lesson and, in turn, have made me a stronger college counselor. It is far easier to spiral, to let the noise that is admissions be the loudest voice in the room, than it is to hold those three tenets close. The three tenets have the power to make each of us, and our journeys, stronger; we just need to claim them. 

Congratulations to the EA Class of ‘25! 

We have a few slots left in the EA Class of ‘26. Let's Talk!

*Names and minor specifics have been changed for privacy