Growing up in a town sardonically called “Swellesley, Mass.,” I never had much exposure to rejection. As a kid playing sports, I made every team, played every game and won every trophy. My hockey league’s “A” and “B” teams were inevitably renamed to teams “A1” and “A2.” Every year, each member walked away with a congratulatory certificate. Blissfully ignorant of the harsh realities that soccer involved running and that I was an atrocious athlete, I continued to play happily among those who were actually good at sports.
Then middle school rolled around, and life became focused on belonging. Amid cliques and clubs and fate-sealing boy-girl parties, some semblance of rejection slowly began to seep into our lives. It pervaded the social scene — hopeful boys were constantly turned down at slow dances with averted eyes and turned cheeks. So-called “friends” were regularly ditched in stores at the mall and exiled from social circles on a weekly basis. At the time, it seemed like a big deal. We treated bat mitzvahs like VIP parties — I still remember how embarrassed I was admitting I didn’t get one invite that all my friends had received.
In high school, the rejection became academic. Students were separated by aptitude and standardized tests suddenly became relevant. Academic societies and school groups were selective when choosing members. Nearly everything was a means to an end — attending a college as prestigious as possible. I rarely ever heard others say they were satisfied with their SAT scores and knew very few people who took the test only once.
The college admissions process marks many people’s first encounter with significant rejection. Students spend dozens of hours crafting applications they hope will meaningfully represent them. They are forced to fit into a certain set of guidelines, dictated by the requirements of the applications. Then, they are judged in an instant by someone who knows nothing about them. Applicants gauge their self-worth by admissions officers’ snap judgments and are then devastated by the frequent rejection that is a product of college exclusivity. In this culmination of adolescence, dreams hinge entirely on the decisions of others.
This lack of agency seems to be what makes rejection so terrifying. We are often sheltered from rejection at a young age, and the failures that we do experience are hardly life-altering. As we grow older, we are slowly held accountable for our actions and decisions. When they aren’t accepted, we feel personally criticized. Vulnerability, I believe, is therefore an inherent part of rejection.
College admissions is only an introduction into a world fraught with rejection and ostracism. Here at Dartmouth, students are constantly denied membership by clubs and societies, Greek houses and potential employers. Student groups and clubs often have multiple selection rounds, and the processes are always highly competitive. Whether you didn’t make it into an a cappella group or were turned down by a prospective DFMO partner last weekend, I can almost surely say that, as a student at this school, you have experienced rejection.
So why do we see rejection as such a bad thing? Failure and not living up to our own expectations are parts of life, and we must learn to deal with them instead of fearing their existence.
At Commencement in 2011, Conan O’Brien said that rejection and disappointment can help us grow and change for the better. He enlightened students about his own experiences with rejection, emphasizing the liberation he felt upon having his worst fears realized.
“It is our failure to become our perceived ideal that ultimately defines us and makes us unique,” O’Brien said. “It’s not easy, but if you accept your misfortune and handle it right, your perceived failure can become a catalyst for profound re-invention.”
O’Brien later said that it is this very failure that can help us realize our potential.
“Through disappointment you can gain clarity, and with clarity comes conviction and true originality,” he said.
Hearing O’Brien’s speech gave me solace after my own experiences with rejection and significantly altered my view of great disappointments. The experience during which I felt most rejected wouldn’t even technically be considered a rejection. Last December, being deferred from Dartmouth was the greatest disappointment I had ever encountered, especially since eight of my family members graduated from or attend the College. I felt ostracized by a place that had been home for as long as I could remember. I felt like a failure for not being able to carry on my family’s unspoken tradition, and, most of all, I was angry that I hadn’t lived up to my own ultra-concrete goals. I had wanted Dartmouth and only Dartmouth for years, so much so that it caused me to break down in front of my dad two days before all my other applications were due because “there was nowhere else I would be happy.”
Although in the end I did choose to come here, this experience, which I initially viewed as not only a setback but a total failure, ended up being an opportunity. It forced me to fall in love with other colleges, proving to myself that happiness doesn’t lie in the completion of specific goals, but rather, what you make of your experience. It showed me that Dartmouth wasn’t guaranteed, thus completely transforming my experience once I got here.
We all have a choice. We can view rejection as a setback or view it as an opportunity. I urge everyone to choose the latter and field rejection with an open mind. It is easy to feel upset and dejected in light of a disappointing outcome, but chances are we won’t remember those losses 20 years from now. We’ll remember the things we chose to do instead.
The best things in life often come out of being vulnerable and stepping out of your comfort zone. They are often surprising and may not be a reflection of the goals you originally had your sights set on.
Dreams and desires are not static, and they can change as time moves forward. If we blindly and fiercely pursue one set of goals, whether it is getting a job at Morgan Stanley or joining an A-side frat, we run the risk of missing out on spontaneous and novel pursuits.If we are able to accept the fluidity of our objectives, however, we can better react to disappointments and even use them as building blocks for our own success and happiness.
