Throughout my daughter’s senior year of high school, I felt as though we were living in a state of constant survival, balancing a seemingly endless series of responsibilities with little time to breathe. What was supposed to be a celebratory final chapter of her secondary education instead became a whirlwind year defined by decision-making, deadlines, and deadlines looming over us like milestones on a never-ending path. These months represented the culmination of nearly four years of careful planning and preparation—years in which every academic choice, extracurricular pursuit, and creative project subtly pointed toward the formidable challenge of college admissions.
The sheer volume of tasks demanded by the process was staggering. Between her dozens of essays for college applications and scholarship opportunities, the standardized testing requirements such as the SATs, the assembly of a comprehensive artistic portfolio, an array of supplemental applications for particular colleges, and even specialized departmental interviews, it sometimes felt as though each week presented a new mountain to climb. And yet, all of this had to be integrated into an already grueling academic schedule, which included college-level Advanced Placement classes, dual enrollment courses at a local university, and an academic calendar teeming with extracurricular commitments. Each of these obligations, while fruitful in their own right, collectively would have been enough to exhaust even the most disciplined student.
Strangely, it was not simply the busy schedule or the countless deadlines that tested our endurance the most. Instead, the greatest challenge was the intangible and more insidious strain of waiting. This became the defining feature of the application cycle for our family. We were constantly suspended in limbo, caught between periods of frantic activity and the extended silences that followed. I quickly realized that waiting was the permanent backdrop to the entire process: waiting for online portals to open, waiting for the final days before submissions were due, waiting for schools to signal the smallest indication of next steps, and, most agonizingly, waiting for the official decision notifications in March—months after the applications had been carefully submitted and reviewed.
This waiting period was not simply idle time; it carried its own unique stress. Completing tasks, no matter how intensive, offered a sense of control and momentum, but waiting stripped that away, leaving us with nothing but uncertainty. It quickly became evident that senior year was less an exercise in organization than it was a crash course in learning patience. While my daughter managed the tangible workload with admirable efficiency, her greatest difficulty lay in enduring the long stretches of silence. These interludes often triggered worry, doubt, and a heightened pressure that weighed on her mind. As her parent, this meant I had to not only keep track of her practical responsibilities but also remain vigilant with regard to her emotional balance and mental well-being.
Fortunately, we were not alone. A strong support network played a pivotal role in making this overwhelming process more bearable. Throughout her high school journey, certain dedicated teachers and insightful guidance counselors had positioned themselves as invaluable advocates, offering advice, encouragement, and opportunities that enhanced both her applications and her confidence. They reviewed essays with sincerity, wrote recommendation letters that reflected genuine investment, and provided academic direction that showcased her strengths in meaningful ways. These individuals, beyond their academic roles, became trusted mentors whose impact extended well beyond application season.
Meanwhile, as a parent seeking solidarity, I turned to online communities. Social media groups, particularly on platforms such as Facebook, became surprisingly reliable sources of both practical knowledge and emotional connection. Within these communities, other parents generously shared clarifications about convoluted processes, offered insight grounded in their own experiences, and, perhaps most importantly, empathized with the collective tension of waiting. On days when the silence felt unbearable, these groups reminded me that countless other families were experiencing the very same uncertainty.
If I could revisit this journey, one insight I would act on much earlier would be the importance of acknowledging the psychological toll of waiting. I would have initiated conversations with other parents sooner, not only for the information they could share but for the perspective and preparation they could provide about the mental and emotional fluctuations that accompany these quiet yet pressing intervals.
The experience as a whole imparted significant lessons. Above all, I discovered that the application process follows a rhythm of its own that cannot be rushed or entirely controlled. As much as one can carefully plan and proactively act, there comes a point where external forces—such as decisions made within admissions offices—take precedence, leaving applicants and families with only their resilience and patience. I would remind my past self, and now remind others, that all one can truly control is the quality of effort put forth during the process. The remainder must be viewed as an opportunity for growth: a chance to model and encourage perseverance, composure, and the faith to take bold steps despite uncertain outcomes.
Equally critical is the recognition that admissions decisions are not, and should never be viewed as, definitive judgments of personal value or worth. The outcome is simply a matter of universities attempting to identify candidates who match their institutional needs, balancing the vast pool of applicants with the finite spots available. Every diligent, hardworking student will ultimately find an academic environment that suits them—a place where their abilities and individuality are valued.
Finally, for families undergoing this process now or in the future, my strongest recommendation is not to resist the waiting but to lean into it with awareness. Waiting may feel interminable, but it is a season of life that will pass, soon to be replaced by the equally momentous and emotional experience of helping your child pack their belongings and move into a college dormitory. The waiting, as uncomfortable as it is, becomes part of the memory and the journey, and in its own way prepares both parent and child for the larger transitions to come.
Sourse: https://www.businessinsider.com/college-application-process-waiting-worst-part-daughter-2025-8
