Princeton University was the Disney World of my childhood. Tall stone buildings draped in ivy, massive marble beasts guarding courtyards; Princeton’s campus is every little girl’s fairytale. However, the Ivy League fairytale of my childhood quickly turned into a daunting reality as I approached my senior year of high school.
I had visited my uncle during his time as a student at Princeton and continued to make the trip every summer for cross-country camp. Spending my weekends touring big state schools and selective liberal arts colleges proved only to strengthen my love for Princeton; I was determined to be a tiger. Only one school I visited that came close to rivaling Princeton was the University of North Carolina.
A campus straight from Google images and students with incredible school spirit immediately caught my eye (not to mention Carolina blue clothes, am I right?). The town of Chapel Hill has a love and pride for UNC unparalleled among every college I visited. Carolina Blue is truly a culture. After my visit, I added UNC to my seemingly endless list of applications and awaited the results.
Following all of my applications, I thought long and hard about what my realistic first choice college was. Princeton was the school of my dreams but with a 7 percent acceptance rate, so I knew I had to prepare myself for an alternative. UNC was a clear second choice, or as I put it, my “slightly more realistic first choice.” UNC was perfect -- beautiful, fun, great sports teams, a good distance from home, and the one problem: 82 percent in-state students. Either way, these two beautiful schools were a long shot.
Princeton was the first school I heard back from. Hunched over my cellphone at the end of track practice I impatiently refreshed my web browser, and there it was, “We regret to inform you”. Short, sweet, and to the point: rejection. Following this letter was a less-than-enthusiastic acceptance from Clemson and a deferral or two. Then came January and the letter I had been waiting for -- UNC.
Getting accepted early action to UNC was not only a surprise but truly a blessing. It baffles my mind that I ever classified Chapel Hill as anything but a first choice school. Between the lively town, Division I sports teams (go Heels!), and a student body that is nothing short of a family, UNC is a place I am so proud to call home.
If there is anything I would tell college applicants it’s that sometimes your dream school doesn’t work out, and if you’re lucky that will be a blessing. Sometimes the school you counted out as a second, or even third, choice ends up being a perfect match. While I’m sure I would’ve loved Princeton had I been accepted, I can’t imagine myself anywhere other than Carolina. I wasn’t a Tar Heel born or a Tar Heel bred, but when I die, I’ll be a Tar Heel dead.
