As a high school student, college admissions perpetually lurks in the periphery, coloring the present a dull shade of grey as you look feverishly toward the future. You look continuously toward that moment of absolution when you receive an acceptance letter from your dream college. You dream and imagine how picturesque life would be once you finally enter college and you're absolutely set, and you no longer have to live in a constant state of flux.

You artfully craft your resume in what you hope is just the right blend of extracurriculars and AP or IB classes, and manage a workload that's objectively inhumane in the hope that you can one day convince the admissions committee of your dream school that you're worthy. You push aside the anecdotal examples of absolutely wonderful and brilliant people who for some unidentifiable reason didn't get into schools x, y or z. You push aside when your guidance counselor tries to impress upon you the almost randomness of the admissions process to soften the potentially blow of rejection. As you deliberate amongst your "matches," "reaches" and "safeties," you simply try to keep a positive mind and privately hope you're an exception to the rule after all you've put into your education.

During senior year, it's so easy to let where you get into college feel as though it define you. It feels as though your peers, your parents, your acquaintances will use the name of the college you go to and the "type" of college you go to as a means to define you. You might feel compelled to go a given college that makes you feel all your sleepless nights were "worth it," though you're not quite sure what that means beyond being able to be congratulated for getting in, because your perception what the experience of actually going to your dream college is still a tad fuzzy.

But isn't going to a college in which you'd thrive more important than temporarily impressing your classmates (many of whom you'll never see again once you leave the stage on graduation day)? Isn't going to a place you're wanted more useful than yearning for acceptance from a university where you might not thrive in the first place? Ability should trump all, even the name of the school you go to.

And it does. A study by Stacy Berg Dale and Alan B. Krueger showed that students who attended more selective colleges earned about the same as students of seemingly comparable ability who attended less selective schools. It's not a matter of being a C or D student who sent an application to Harvard and received a rejection letter; rather, it's a matter of being the type of kid who even felt there were academically in the range in which you could apply to and have a chance of getting into an Ivy League or similarly selective school.

Getting into college is not the end; it's only the beginning. Getting into your dream school is wonderful, but not getting in won't put you forever behind those that did. The moment you leave high school, it won't matter if you go to your dream school or a different school entirely that you might not have initially considered but ended up being a much better fit for you.

Instead of seeing college as a brand, see it as a stepping stone. Brilliant people come from all walks of life, and much more important than where you go to college at age 18 is the person you've become.