Rack Em
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I know Notre Dame recently mailed their letters to all applicants for the Class of 2016 so I felt this was an appropriate time for this thread. Notre Dame prospectives and their parents are often looking for even the slightest bit of information that could vault their, or their son or daughter's, application into the lucky category of admitted students. Unfortunately I don't have the magic recipe to get admitted into Notre Dame, but I'm gonna lay it all out there. Here it goes...
5 years ago, about this time, I knew my letter from ND would be arriving at my house. I anxiously awaited that day for years; I also dreaded it just as much. I had based my entire life around this football team, the academics, and its Catholic identity. It defined who I was and I loved everything about it. In my mind, my self-worth was attached to this letter. I equated acceptance to Notre Dame with validation of my life. On the flip side, I saw rejection as a sign that my life, to that point, had been an utter failure. I was my own worst enemy.
I was 7 the first time I graced this magical campus in South Bend. I have very few memories from being that age, but my first Notre Dame football game is as vivid as any I've ever had. I can distinctly remember walking out of the stadium, holding my father's hand, donning my #3 Ron Powlus jersey after Notre Dame dropped a game to Air Force. The following afternoon after arriving home, as my mother was cleaning the kitchen, she asked me about the trip. I obliged and recounted the adventure I shared with my dad, my grandfather, 3 of my uncles, and my 2 oldest cousins. At the end of our conversation I told her I was going to college when I got older. Slightly taken aback, she responded "Son, I'm proud of you. That's a noble goal." I cut her off mid sentence and said "No mom, you didn't let me finish. I'm going to Notre Dame."
I knew toward the latter part of high school that my activities and volunteer work would put me in the highest ranks of ND applicants. However my grades and ACT score would be borderline. It wasn't for a lack of trying: I took the ACT 5 times and the SAT once. Never could I crack a 31 (or the SAT equivalent). I held on to hope that something in my application file would set me apart from the other Class of 2011 applicants. Unfortunately, the admissions committee didn't find it.
I skipped out of my study hall the day that letter arrived. I knew when the mailman delivered to our house and I fully intended to be waiting on him. As I saw him pull next to the mailbox, my heart sunk and I felt violently ill: the time had come. That walk down the driveway was the longest of my life. I clung to every ounce of hope I had as I reached for the mail. It was a small envelope. I knew nothing good came from small envelopes.
Everything I worked for, the highest goal I had set in life, was crushed. My life was in shambles and I was an emotional wreck the entire day. I did my best to put on a "happy face" the rest of the day but I just felt cold and lifeless. This, however, was the best day of my life.
The next day I mustered up the little bit of courage and self-respect I had left and went to the admissions department's website. Not graduating from Notre Dame wasn't an option I was willing to entertain. I researched everything I needed to know about transferring. I accepted a scholarship from St. Louis University (the only other school to which I applied) and enrolled in classes that matched up with my intended major at Notre Dame. I stayed in frequent contact with the admissions department through the course of my freshmen year at SLU to make sure I set myself up as well as possible to transfer. I busted my tail that year and frequently stayed in on the weekends to do homework. I submitted my transfer application in April and updated it in May with a 3.88 GPA in essentially the same classes as a Math major at Notre Dame. Additionally, I traveled an hour and a half each way 4 days a week during the summer to take a calculus-based physics course.
While driving back from class one day I received a call from a "574" area code. I panicked. I knew it was from Notre Dame and that transfer letters had been mailed. It was the director of transfer admissions. I had been accepted. Redemption never felt so good. The weight I had placed on my shoulders for 11 years was finally gone.
The day I was rejected ended up being the best day of my life because it meant I would become part of the greatest group of Notre Dame students: the transfers.
That said, congratulations to those accepted into the Class of 2016. To those who were waitlisted, continue to let Notre Dame know how passionate you are about this great University and how much of a dream it is to go there. And for those of you who did not get accepted, work hard and persevere if Notre Dame is something you truly want. You have the wonderful opportunity of being part of the most welcoming, tight-knit subculture at Notre Dame, the transfers.
Go Irish,
Rack Em
5 years ago, about this time, I knew my letter from ND would be arriving at my house. I anxiously awaited that day for years; I also dreaded it just as much. I had based my entire life around this football team, the academics, and its Catholic identity. It defined who I was and I loved everything about it. In my mind, my self-worth was attached to this letter. I equated acceptance to Notre Dame with validation of my life. On the flip side, I saw rejection as a sign that my life, to that point, had been an utter failure. I was my own worst enemy.
I was 7 the first time I graced this magical campus in South Bend. I have very few memories from being that age, but my first Notre Dame football game is as vivid as any I've ever had. I can distinctly remember walking out of the stadium, holding my father's hand, donning my #3 Ron Powlus jersey after Notre Dame dropped a game to Air Force. The following afternoon after arriving home, as my mother was cleaning the kitchen, she asked me about the trip. I obliged and recounted the adventure I shared with my dad, my grandfather, 3 of my uncles, and my 2 oldest cousins. At the end of our conversation I told her I was going to college when I got older. Slightly taken aback, she responded "Son, I'm proud of you. That's a noble goal." I cut her off mid sentence and said "No mom, you didn't let me finish. I'm going to Notre Dame."
I knew toward the latter part of high school that my activities and volunteer work would put me in the highest ranks of ND applicants. However my grades and ACT score would be borderline. It wasn't for a lack of trying: I took the ACT 5 times and the SAT once. Never could I crack a 31 (or the SAT equivalent). I held on to hope that something in my application file would set me apart from the other Class of 2011 applicants. Unfortunately, the admissions committee didn't find it.
I skipped out of my study hall the day that letter arrived. I knew when the mailman delivered to our house and I fully intended to be waiting on him. As I saw him pull next to the mailbox, my heart sunk and I felt violently ill: the time had come. That walk down the driveway was the longest of my life. I clung to every ounce of hope I had as I reached for the mail. It was a small envelope. I knew nothing good came from small envelopes.
Everything I worked for, the highest goal I had set in life, was crushed. My life was in shambles and I was an emotional wreck the entire day. I did my best to put on a "happy face" the rest of the day but I just felt cold and lifeless. This, however, was the best day of my life.
The next day I mustered up the little bit of courage and self-respect I had left and went to the admissions department's website. Not graduating from Notre Dame wasn't an option I was willing to entertain. I researched everything I needed to know about transferring. I accepted a scholarship from St. Louis University (the only other school to which I applied) and enrolled in classes that matched up with my intended major at Notre Dame. I stayed in frequent contact with the admissions department through the course of my freshmen year at SLU to make sure I set myself up as well as possible to transfer. I busted my tail that year and frequently stayed in on the weekends to do homework. I submitted my transfer application in April and updated it in May with a 3.88 GPA in essentially the same classes as a Math major at Notre Dame. Additionally, I traveled an hour and a half each way 4 days a week during the summer to take a calculus-based physics course.
While driving back from class one day I received a call from a "574" area code. I panicked. I knew it was from Notre Dame and that transfer letters had been mailed. It was the director of transfer admissions. I had been accepted. Redemption never felt so good. The weight I had placed on my shoulders for 11 years was finally gone.
The day I was rejected ended up being the best day of my life because it meant I would become part of the greatest group of Notre Dame students: the transfers.
That said, congratulations to those accepted into the Class of 2016. To those who were waitlisted, continue to let Notre Dame know how passionate you are about this great University and how much of a dream it is to go there. And for those of you who did not get accepted, work hard and persevere if Notre Dame is something you truly want. You have the wonderful opportunity of being part of the most welcoming, tight-knit subculture at Notre Dame, the transfers.
Go Irish,
Rack Em
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