To follow is an article from FORBES that I hope will add perspective to your college search whether a high school senior or freshman. FIGHT HARD to always remain in CONTROL of the process , making it a process that responds to your needs, not those of colleges…because as suggested by this article, you will never predict the needs of the college of your choice.

Commentary
Don’t Take It Personally
Joie Jager-Hyman 04.01.08, 6:00 AM ET

The largest number of students in U.S. history–a whopping 3.3 million, according to the Department of Education–are expected to graduate from high school this spring, which inevitably means increased competition for college admissions, especially on our nation’s elite campuses. This week, thousands of ambitious students will receive notice that they were rejected from some of the colleges to which they applied. Though it can be tempting for students (and parents) to take these decisions personally, it is important to remember that the colleges themselves have an entirely different view of the admissions process.

It wasn’t until I worked in college admissions that I learned the monumental role of circumstance in what is often labeled a test of accomplishment.

Just days after I had graduated with the class of 2000, I was offered and quickly accepted a position as Assistant Director of Admissions at Dartmouth College. The job was instantly appealing because, like so many recent graduates, I didn’t want to leave college. And, even after four years as a student there, I couldn’t help but be in awe of Dartmouth. After dropping me off on the first day of orientation, my mother turned to me with teary eyes and said, “I can’t believe we went from Auschwitz to Dartmouth in two generations.” I had experienced what felt like a miraculous transformation from outsider to insider and wanted to help others experience this journey as well.

One of the primary ways in which Dartmouth’s admissions office trained new hires was to have us read the previous year’s applications, including the notes and decisions recorded by the admissions staff. The files were mesmerizing; each manila folder held captivating papers of potential. It wasn’t just the applicants themselves who were lobbying for admission–it was entire communities. Teachers, counselors, peers and employers wrote in on their behalf, describing blossoming future scientists, artists and wide-eyed contributors to society at large. Before reading the ultimate verdict, I tried to play my new role. I divided the applications into two piles–kids that were “better” than I had been in high school and kids that were “worse.” Those in the former category would get in. It seemed so easy.

After I had made my initial decisions, I checked to see if I had predicted accurately, if the students I had chosen were currently walking around campus in “shmobs” (our nickname for freshmen mobs who went everywhere in packs before they developed real friendships). Reading over the admissions officers’ notes and verdicts, I quickly realized that something very powerful had happened in the four years since I had graduated from high school. Most of the “better than me” pile had gotten wait-listed or rejected. The college was not only getting superior applicants, but more of them. In an ironic twist, I almost certainly would not have been able to admit myself with the credentials I had in high school.

With a few weeks of training under my belt–reading through files, sitting in on recruitment meetings, giving campus “information sessions,” etc.–I hit the road, traveling across the country to speak to students, parents and counselors about the application process. At first, it was pretty cool. I had never stayed in a hotel by myself, rented a car or been looked at as a real authority figure.

It didn’t take long before I was confronted with the challenges of representing a sought-after college in a competitive admissions cycle. During my travels and in my information sessions, I was often met with tooth-gnashed accusations and angst-ridden questions: An irate guidance counselor demanding to know why we “hated” her school and continually disillusioned her top students, a frantic mother following me into the bathroom to ask if her son should take his SATs again. Nervous students addressing me as “ma’am,” asking if I thought it was OK for them to drop AP Physics. All I could do was to answer these people in the ways that I had been taught to answer. Deep down, however, it became quite difficult to ignore a clichéd but legitimate existential question: Who was I to judge?

The months of November through March are known as “reading season” in the admissions world, when the officers close the curtain and retreat backstage to do the gritty work of evaluating applications. We knew what we were looking for in a class overall. We wanted top students, winning sports teams, high SAT scores, socioeconomic diversity, legacies, students of color, sons and daughters of big donors, strong international students and a even some “creative loners”–a term coined by Dartmouth President Emeritus James Friedman, which is shorthand for the rare students who really love to learn but don’t necessarily know how to pad their resumes.

With all these things to consider, there was no question that we had to turn down many exceptional candidates. It was simply a matter of too many great applications and too few spaces.

I now understand that the college admissions process is not about assessing an applicant’s future potential or past achievements in a vacuum. The job of the admissions office is to assemble a class of students that satisfies the institution’s different priorities and limitations. For what it’s worth, every student who is admitted to a top school–whether or not they play football or have parents who donated money–is qualified for admission and belongs there. And, plenty of athletes, legacies, students of color and even “creative loners” get rejected from selective universities each year, as do plenty of kids with great grades, high test scores and exceptional extracurricular resumes.

In the end, applicants have little control over the decisions that colleges make. However, they do have control over how they interpret these decisions. The smartest students realize that college admissions should never be taken personally–whether or not they get into the Ivy League.

Joie Jager-Hyman is the author of Fat Envelope Frenzy: One Year, Five Students and the Pursuit of the Ivy League Prize.