BelleOfKilronen

This is a whole bunch of great advice.

For what it's worth, my SoP focused entirely on:
~ideas I had been recently exploring (reflected in my writing sample),
~how they led to the proposal I was suggesting for grad school, and
~why I wanted to pursue said proposal at their institution.

The only mention of my undergraduate degree was half a sentence in the second paragraph, and the only mention of my MA in a related-but-not-quite-the-same field was a line toward the end, and both references tied explicitly to the outline above. I took the same approach with work experience, only mentioning it (briefly) if it was directly relevant. In fact, the whole essay hinged upon what, on paper, was a blip in my student record--a grad lit seminar I took as a non-degree student a year ago--since that course was the Pandora's box that, once opened, led to my current line of inquiry.

And intextrovert brings up a great point about the methodology of a department being an important part of its "fit." To my surprise, one of my two admittances--and the one that I ultimately accepted--was from the only school for which I didn't list specific professors in my SoP. Instead, I talked mostly about how I liked the faculty's general approach to their scholarship, and how this approach would complement the project I was proposing. My other successful app did name faculty members I wanted to work with--and cited them in my writing sample, no less--so I'm not sure how typical the first response was. But I do think it illustrates that, at least in humanities-land, naming profs you love isn't the only way to convince an adcom that you're a good "fit" for their program.

Just my two cents based on my own little bubble of largely subjective data, but I hope it helps.

This is a whole bunch of great advice.

For what it's worth, my SoP focused entirely on:
~ideas I had been recently exploring (reflected in my writing sample),
~how they led to the proposal I was suggesting for grad school, and
~why I wanted to pursue said proposal at their institution.

The only mention of my undergraduate degree was half a sentence in the second paragraph, and the only mention of my MA in a related-but-not-quite-the-same field was a line toward the end, and both references tied explicitly to the outline above. I took the same approach with work experience, only mentioning it (briefly) if it was directly relevant. In fact, the whole essay hinged upon what, on paper, was a blip in my student record--a grad lit seminar I took as a non-degree student a year ago--since that course was the Pandora's box that, once opened, led to my current line of inquiry.

And intextrovert brings up a great point about the methodology of a department being an important part of its "fit." To my surprise, one of my two admittances--and the one that I ultimately accepted--was from the only school for which I didn't list specific professors in my SoP. Instead, I talked mostly about how I liked the faculty's general approach to their scholarship, and how this approach would complement the project I was proposing. My other successful app did name faculty members I wanted to work with--and cited them in my writing sample, no less--so I'm not sure how typical the first response was. But I do think it illustrates that, at least in humanities-land, naming profs you love isn't the only way to convince an adcom that you're a good "fit" for their program.

Just my two cents based on my own little bubble of largely subjective data, but I hope it helps.

This is a whole bunch of great advice.

For what it's worth, my SoP focused entirely on:
~ideas I had been recently exploring (reflected in my writing sample),
~how they led to the proposal I was suggesting for grad school, and
~why I wanted to pursue said proposal at their institution.

The only mention of my undergraduate degree was half a sentence in the second paragraph, and the only mention of my MA in a related-but-not-quite-the-same field was a line toward the end, and both references tied explicitly to the outline above. I took the same approach with work experience, only mentioning it (briefly) if it was directly relevant. In fact, the whole essay hinged upon what, on paper, was a blip in my student record--a grad lit seminar I took as a non-degree student a year ago--since that course was the Pandora's box that, once opened, led to my current line of inquiry.

And intextrovert brings up a great point about the methodology of a department being an important part of its "fit." To my surprise, one of my two admittances--and the one that I ultimately accepted--was from the only school for which I didn't list specific professors in my SoP. Instead, I talked mostly about how I liked the faculty's general approach to their scholarship, and how this approach would complement the project I was proposing. My other successful app did name faculty members I wanted to work with--and cited them in my writing sample, no less--so I'm not sure how typical the first response was. But I do think it illustrates that, at least in humanities-land, naming profs you love isn't the only way to convince an adcom that you're a good "fit" for their program.

Just my two cents based on my own little bubble of largely subjective data, but I hope it helps.

This is a whole bunch of great advice.

For what it's worth, my SoP focused entirely on:
~ideas I had been recently exploring (reflected in my writing sample),
~how they led to the proposal I was suggesting for grad school, and
~why I wanted to pursue said proposal at their institution.

The only mention of my undergraduate degree was half a sentence in the second paragraph, and the only mention of my MA in a related-but-not-quite-the-same field was a line toward the end, and both references tied explicitly to the outline above. I took the same approach with work experience, only mentioning it (briefly) if it was directly relevant. In fact, the whole essay hinged upon what, on paper, was a blip in my student record--a grad lit seminar I took as a non-degree student a year ago--since that course was the Pandora's box that, once opened, led to my current line of inquiry.

And intextrovert brings up a great point about the methodology of a department being an important part of its "fit." To my surprise, one of my two admittances--and the one that I ultimately accepted--was from the only school for which I didn't list specific professors in my SoP. Instead, I talked mostly about how I liked the faculty's general approach to their scholarship, and how this approach would complement the project I was proposing. My other successful app did name faculty members I wanted to work with--and cited them in my writing sample, no less--so I'm not sure how typical the first response was. But I do think it illustrates that, at least in humanities-land, naming profs you love isn't the only way to convince an adcom that you're a good "fit" for their program.

Just my two cents based on my own little bubble of largely subjective data, but I hope it helps.

This is a whole bunch of great advice.

For what it's worth, my SoP focused entirely on:
~ideas I had been recently exploring (reflected in my writing sample),
~how they led to the proposal I was suggesting for grad school, and
~why I wanted to pursue said proposal at their institution.

The only mention of my undergraduate degree was half a sentence in the second paragraph, and the only mention of my MA in a related-but-not-quite-the-same field was a line toward the end, and both references tied explicitly to the outline above. I took the same approach with work experience, only mentioning it (briefly) if it was directly relevant. In fact, the whole essay hinged upon what, on paper, was a blip in my student record--a grad lit seminar I took as a non-degree student a year ago--since that course was the Pandora's box that, once opened, led to my current line of inquiry.

And intextrovert brings up a great point about the methodology of a department being an important part of its "fit." To my surprise, one of my two admittances--and the one that I ultimately accepted--was from the only school for which I didn't list specific professors in my SoP. Instead, I talked mostly about how I liked the faculty's general approach to their scholarship, and how this approach would complement the project I was proposing. My other successful app did name faculty members I wanted to work with--and cited them in my writing sample, no less--so I'm not sure how typical the first response was. But I do think it illustrates that, at least in humanities-land, naming profs you love isn't the only way to convince an adcom that you're a good "fit" for their program.

Just my two cents based on my own little bubble of largely subjective data, but I hope it helps.

First of all, congrats to all of you!

As someone who went through this process a couple of years ago, I just wanted to chime in with a few thoughts that I hope relieve a bit of collective tension.

For those of you anxious about deciding which offer to take, try not to worry about it. Your campus visits will most likely make the "right" choice clear to you. Meeting with professors and students in person will really help you develop a strong sense of where you want to spend the next 5-6 years of your life.

And those of you with one acceptance are not the beneficiaries of some strange fluke in the application process! A program isn't going to accept you--and support you, financially, professionally, etc--unless they really want you. The folks at your accepting institution think you're pretty darn awesome, and you should share their enthusiasm for your accomplishments.

Lastly, if you can, try not to overthink it if a school that you thought was the perfect "fit" rejects you, while ones that you thought were a stretch accept you. The ever-elusive "fit" issue, while important, is out of your control in ways that, as an applicant, I know I myself never imagined. Grad committees rotate in many (most?) schools; in some cases, there's a good chance that not one person you want to work with is even reading your application. And some schools that read like they're great fits for us aren't in reality. (There may be great schools that, when it's all said and done, you're actually grateful you didn't get into, based on what you later learn about their program, important faculty changes that you weren't aware of when you were applying, etc. It's sort of like when you really like a guy but he doesn't want to go out with you, and you later realize it never would have worked out anyway, even though he was totally hot.)

First of all, congrats to all of you!

As someone who went through this process a couple of years ago, I just wanted to chime in with a few thoughts that I hope relieve a bit of collective tension.

For those of you anxious about deciding which offer to take, try not to worry about it. Your campus visits will most likely make the "right" choice clear to you. Meeting with professors and students in person will really help you develop a strong sense of where you want to spend the next 5-6 years of your life.

And those of you with one acceptance are not the beneficiaries of some strange fluke in the application process! A program isn't going to accept you--and support you, financially, professionally, etc--unless they really want you. The folks at your accepting institution think you're pretty darn awesome, and you should share their enthusiasm for your accomplishments.

Lastly, if you can, try not to overthink it if a school that you thought was the perfect "fit" rejects you, while ones that you thought were a stretch accept you. The ever-elusive "fit" issue, while important, is out of your control in ways that, as an applicant, I know I myself never imagined. Grad committees rotate in many (most?) schools; in some cases, there's a good chance that not one person you want to work with is even reading your application. And some schools that read like they're great fits for us aren't in reality. (There may be great schools that, when it's all said and done, you're actually grateful you didn't get into, based on what you later learn about their program, important faculty changes that you weren't aware of when you were applying, etc. It's sort of like when you really like a guy but he doesn't want to go out with you, and you later realize it never would have worked out anyway, even though he was totally hot.)

See, to me, it's more "nannying" to have to be like "if I catch you doing something else....." Instead, I just tell them they won't need it for the class so there is no point in bringing one. The end. It's never a problem.

Depending on seating, inappropriate laptop usage can be extremely distracting to other students as well. Plus, "they paid for the class" isn't really appealing to me: education isn't a product like a shirt which can be treated however. It is a contract between the student and the professor/university in which both are responsible for the amount of learning attained, in different ways. It's like ignoring your doctor's recommendations and saying "well, I paid for the appointment." Do that long enough and your doctor will "fire" you.

First of all, congrats to all of you!

As someone who went through this process a couple of years ago, I just wanted to chime in with a few thoughts that I hope relieve a bit of collective tension.

For those of you anxious about deciding which offer to take, try not to worry about it. Your campus visits will most likely make the "right" choice clear to you. Meeting with professors and students in person will really help you develop a strong sense of where you want to spend the next 5-6 years of your life.

And those of you with one acceptance are not the beneficiaries of some strange fluke in the application process! A program isn't going to accept you--and support you, financially, professionally, etc--unless they really want you. The folks at your accepting institution think you're pretty darn awesome, and you should share their enthusiasm for your accomplishments.

Lastly, if you can, try not to overthink it if a school that you thought was the perfect "fit" rejects you, while ones that you thought were a stretch accept you. The ever-elusive "fit" issue, while important, is out of your control in ways that, as an applicant, I know I myself never imagined. Grad committees rotate in many (most?) schools; in some cases, there's a good chance that not one person you want to work with is even reading your application. And some schools that read like they're great fits for us aren't in reality. (There may be great schools that, when it's all said and done, you're actually grateful you didn't get into, based on what you later learn about their program, important faculty changes that you weren't aware of when you were applying, etc. It's sort of like when you really like a guy but he doesn't want to go out with you, and you later realize it never would have worked out anyway, even though he was totally hot.)

First of all, congrats to all of you!

As someone who went through this process a couple of years ago, I just wanted to chime in with a few thoughts that I hope relieve a bit of collective tension.

For those of you anxious about deciding which offer to take, try not to worry about it. Your campus visits will most likely make the "right" choice clear to you. Meeting with professors and students in person will really help you develop a strong sense of where you want to spend the next 5-6 years of your life.

And those of you with one acceptance are not the beneficiaries of some strange fluke in the application process! A program isn't going to accept you--and support you, financially, professionally, etc--unless they really want you. The folks at your accepting institution think you're pretty darn awesome, and you should share their enthusiasm for your accomplishments.

Lastly, if you can, try not to overthink it if a school that you thought was the perfect "fit" rejects you, while ones that you thought were a stretch accept you. The ever-elusive "fit" issue, while important, is out of your control in ways that, as an applicant, I know I myself never imagined. Grad committees rotate in many (most?) schools; in some cases, there's a good chance that not one person you want to work with is even reading your application. And some schools that read like they're great fits for us aren't in reality. (There may be great schools that, when it's all said and done, you're actually grateful you didn't get into, based on what you later learn about their program, important faculty changes that you weren't aware of when you were applying, etc. It's sort of like when you really like a guy but he doesn't want to go out with you, and you later realize it never would have worked out anyway, even though he was totally hot.)

I made an agreement with myself that, upon submission of applications, I would not, under any circumstances, review my statements of purpose, or any other elements of my application documents. For we all know the Newtonian Law of Typos, that a million pre-submission proofreads cannot tease out the glaring errors that one post-submission proofread can.
If I looked back now and found an error I would dwell on it for the next sixty or seventy days until I find out the admissions results. I don't want all of January and February to be consumed by a misspelled word or split infinitive or some other nonsense. I just couldn't take it. I'm assuming they are all 100% error-free. There's no use looking back now!

This is a whole bunch of great advice.

For what it's worth, my SoP focused entirely on:
~ideas I had been recently exploring (reflected in my writing sample),
~how they led to the proposal I was suggesting for grad school, and
~why I wanted to pursue said proposal at their institution.

The only mention of my undergraduate degree was half a sentence in the second paragraph, and the only mention of my MA in a related-but-not-quite-the-same field was a line toward the end, and both references tied explicitly to the outline above. I took the same approach with work experience, only mentioning it (briefly) if it was directly relevant. In fact, the whole essay hinged upon what, on paper, was a blip in my student record--a grad lit seminar I took as a non-degree student a year ago--since that course was the Pandora's box that, once opened, led to my current line of inquiry.

And intextrovert brings up a great point about the methodology of a department being an important part of its "fit." To my surprise, one of my two admittances--and the one that I ultimately accepted--was from the only school for which I didn't list specific professors in my SoP. Instead, I talked mostly about how I liked the faculty's general approach to their scholarship, and how this approach would complement the project I was proposing. My other successful app did name faculty members I wanted to work with--and cited them in my writing sample, no less--so I'm not sure how typical the first response was. But I do think it illustrates that, at least in humanities-land, naming profs you love isn't the only way to convince an adcom that you're a good "fit" for their program.

Just my two cents based on my own little bubble of largely subjective data, but I hope it helps.

This is an interesting topic, particularly because my style has changed quite dramatically through my three (almost four!) years of undergrad. Freshman year I don't think I voluntarily participated once in any of my English courses. I had tested out of the intro courses, so I was taking classes with students who were a year or two older, and I was petrified. The combination of older students and brilliant professors left me completely silent. However, as I started becoming more confident and more passionate about my English major, I started talking more, and now I'm at a point where it can be hard to get me to shut up, even in classes with less than 10 students!

However, I have the horrible problem of being one of the least articulate people in the world when I'm not fully prepared to talk about something. I'm great at public speaking when I have time to prepare, but when an idea just pops into my head, I end up being able to word vomit about half a sentence and then wait to see if other people catch on. Thank god I have writing assignments to show people I can, actually, develop an idea!

However, I have to disagree with the above posters. I have never found aggression towards other students to be productive in the classroom. I'm having terrible flashbacks to a moment gone horribly wrong when one student told another, "I think you're wrong." *Shudder.* I love a lively, intellectual debate as much as the next person, but I don't think the classroom is the right place, no matter how much another student's work "needs help," is the right place to "insult" the work of another student. It's all about balance. Just as we are expected to be mature enough not to bring personal problems into the classroom or workplace or whatever, we shouldn't bring the chips on our shoulders into it, either. I agree that, at times, students' work is not up to par, and still our peers don't want to critique it. That's the point of constructive criticism. Don't shut down someone's paper based on silly things like "poor structure, word choice, and abuse/misuse of quotes."

Heck, one time I had to do a peer review of a paper that talked about "Hemmingway" throughout the entire thing. Instead of shoving the paper back into the girl's face (which was, yes, my first instinct), I circled it, crossed out the extra "m," and went on to point out both the positive and negative aspects of her paper. It ended up not being half-bad! I've had to come to the realization that, while everyone's instincts may not always be as brilliant as mine (ha! I only rarely think that way anyway, but we're prospective English Ph.D.s, we must have our moments of pretension ), that NEVER, under any circumstances, means that I can dismiss someone's ideas based upon poor word choice or structure or something like that. Maybe I'm spoiled by going to a school where the majority of the population is pretty darned smart. But I've come to realize that the girl with the dumbest sounding voice and most disorganized writing in the class can have some of the most brilliant ideas.

Sorry if I sound like I'm attacking you, dimanche! That's definitely NOT what I'm trying to do. But, maybe your self-proclaimed "aggressive" classroom tendencies are something to think about? Personally, I sure wouldn't like to have to work with too many aggressive types in grad school! I tend to shut down when the class gets too tense!!

That's exactly what I'm doing. I think I'll apply to one M.A. program, so, if it were to happen that I didn't get accepted into any doctoral programs but did get into the M.A. program, I'll have an option of whether or not to do the M.A. or to just take the year off and re-apply.

P.S. Regarding my own previous question and a number of others that have come up in this thread and elsewhere, after taking nearly a week off of thinking about all this stuff (to get in some hardcore GRE prep), I'm thinking that maybe some of us (myself included--myself foremost, even!) spend too much time worrying about what we HAVEN'T done. Instead, I think maybe the focus should be on what kinds of things we have done that will impress adcoms. No two applicants are the same, and we have no way of knowing what might make us stand out. So let's focus on making ourselves shine, no matter what our shortcomings might be!

...I don't where this Little Miss Optimism attitude is coming from. Maybe from excessive caffeine. Or the fact that the GRE is two days away. Something like that.

I'd call the Grad Admins for the departments, Timshel, just to make sure. Chances are that they will accept it, but it'll make you feel better to know for sure.

As for choosing the date, you might want to take a practice test if you haven't already and decide based on how you do. (Find one here.) You may find that you do pretty well on it, in which case you might want to keep the studying to a relative minimum and just get the thing out of the way. I know that there are folks who would disagree, but I really, truly believe that 1) the Subject Test is the least important part of your application, and 2) dramatically improving a decent score is much more of a time (and mental energy!) commitment than it's worth.

I hope that helps. And good luck!

That's awesome that your writers are willing to tailor all your individual letters -- you're very fortunate and should totally take advantage of their generosity. Having been on and around several committees, I can tell you that it's not the norm at all, however, as many applicants are applying to multiple programs (like more than ten) and to ask writers to tailor each one might be considered impolite. One thing I can say for certain is that grad programs do not expect tailored letters at all, and definitely won't consider an applicant / applicant's writer to be lazy or issuing any slaps to the face for not doing so simply for the fact that they're read by the same people who also have to write them for their own students, who know firsthand that individual tailoring is out of the question (in most situations) due to time restrictions. Having had direct personal experience with serving on a committee, and having toiled through more than 350 of these letters, I can again confirm that tailoring of LoR is pretty much unheard of and unnecessary. If you can get your writers to do it, that's awesome, and totally go for it; but what the readers are solely looking for is a picture of you (the applicant) and your ability to succeed in a graduate program -- any graduate program -- not just theirs. And in that regard, Interfolio won't work for you because it's geared more toward the standard practice of generic LoR sending, not personalized stuff.

Most online applications allow you to enter up to five LoRs in their system. I was very fortunate in that I had several people who wanted to write letters for me, and so I was essentially spoiled for choice. Consequently, most of my prospective programs received more than three letters, and I found out after the fact (during subsequent visits / conversation) that indeed, they were all read and considered. In short, it can't hurt. But if in doubt, maybe contact the program's coordinator and make sure they're okay with it.

I actually applied to Cornell, and that's one program that didn't get letter bombed! If I remember correctly, their online app only allowed for three anyway.

I had one just like that! The guy is a brilliant Joyce scholar, but had difficulty with all things techy. Anyhow, when I asked him to write, he mentioned Interfolio, saying that he uses the service so much for submitting letters for his undergrads that he has his own account established with them. Shows how little I knew!

Hi, Timshel,

Just wanted to second what Truckbasket said RE: generic letters of the "Dear (unspecified) Admissions Committee" variety being the norm. It's thoughtful of you to go the extra step with your students' letters, but it's not going to hurt your application in any way if the letters aren't tailored, even in the most basic way, to each school.

I'd call the Grad Admins for the departments, Timshel, just to make sure. Chances are that they will accept it, but it'll make you feel better to know for sure.

As for choosing the date, you might want to take a practice test if you haven't already and decide based on how you do. (Find one here.) You may find that you do pretty well on it, in which case you might want to keep the studying to a relative minimum and just get the thing out of the way. I know that there are folks who would disagree, but I really, truly believe that 1) the Subject Test is the least important part of your application, and 2) dramatically improving a decent score is much more of a time (and mental energy!) commitment than it's worth.

I hope that helps. And good luck!

Hi, Timshel,

Just wanted to second what Truckbasket said RE: generic letters of the "Dear (unspecified) Admissions Committee" variety being the norm. It's thoughtful of you to go the extra step with your students' letters, but it's not going to hurt your application in any way if the letters aren't tailored, even in the most basic way, to each school.

Interfolio is the standard and most commonly used service in academia, although I've personally only run into while on faculty searches. Out of the hundred or so candidates we reviewed, there were fewer than five who didn't use Interfolio to provide us with their details. In fact many UGs provide their own version of the service for free, so using something like this is both very common for grad apps as well as during job searches. When you're on the market, it's somewhat of a requirement as it lends that degree of professional sheen similar to professional organization membership and whatnot.

Are you asking your LoR writers to tailor each of your letters for each program you apply to? That would certainly be very kind of them to do that, but it's not the norm. I've read hundreds of LoRs in my time and they're all enthusiastic, but generic. They're written and designed to be interchangeable so that they can be used in multiple situations. If your writers are willing to tailor each one, however, that's great! I can guarantee you'll be one of the few!

Thanks, BelleOfKilronen!

From my initial research, based on the "perfect fit potential advisor" approach, I am leaning toward a broader view, and your points make great sense. This also leaves room to apply to some high prestige programs that can offer a broad range of medieval scholars, great collections and other resources, as well as good funding packages. I definitely don't want to apply anywhere with only one tenured professor working in my area, or where the scholar whose work interests me is untenured. And your thoughts on avoiding being a fanboy while formulating your own unqiue approach are also very convincing.

Hi, Grizbert,

I'd recommend, if given the option, not choosing a school based on a "perfect fit" potential advisor for a few reasons, the biggest one being that, unless you have intimate knowledge of the department's goings-on, you have no way of knowing whether or not this person will be at the institution for the duration of your time there. I have several friends in my program who applied in order to work with a specific faculty member who, in all likelihood, will be leaving at the end of this year for reasons that they were not privy to as applicants. (We also have a fabulous new senior professor who moved here from a great program this summer, and his old institution still has his faculty profile up on their site. Yikes!)

On a more personal level, I ultimately chose the program I did because there isn't anyone here exploring the same questions I am interested in. Instead, there are a lot of really awesome, open-minded faculty members who are interested in my (admittedly inchoate) ideas despite the fact that they don't align neatly with their own. This set-up gives me a bit more room to develop my own ideas without falling into the scholar-worship I might have if I were working closely with someone whose work was directly influential to my way of thinking; at the same time, it means that I have to work a little bit harder to convince my advisors of the validity of my arguments, since, while interested and supportive, they don't necessarily gravitate to the same theoretical frameworks that I do. Though I can only speculate at this stage in the game, I'm anticipating that this sort of "cross-pollination" will make my writing stronger once I start publishing.

Hi, Grizbert,

I'd recommend, if given the option, not choosing a school based on a "perfect fit" potential advisor for a few reasons, the biggest one being that, unless you have intimate knowledge of the department's goings-on, you have no way of knowing whether or not this person will be at the institution for the duration of your time there. I have several friends in my program who applied in order to work with a specific faculty member who, in all likelihood, will be leaving at the end of this year for reasons that they were not privy to as applicants. (We also have a fabulous new senior professor who moved here from a great program this summer, and his old institution still has his faculty profile up on their site. Yikes!)

On a more personal level, I ultimately chose the program I did because there isn't anyone here exploring the same questions I am interested in. Instead, there are a lot of really awesome, open-minded faculty members who are interested in my (admittedly inchoate) ideas despite the fact that they don't align neatly with their own. This set-up gives me a bit more room to develop my own ideas without falling into the scholar-worship I might have if I were working closely with someone whose work was directly influential to my way of thinking; at the same time, it means that I have to work a little bit harder to convince my advisors of the validity of my arguments, since, while interested and supportive, they don't necessarily gravitate to the same theoretical frameworks that I do. Though I can only speculate at this stage in the game, I'm anticipating that this sort of "cross-pollination" will make my writing stronger once I start publishing.

I know how you guys feel. Last year, I applied to 6 PhDs, got four rejections in a row, and was resigned to it being an unsuccessful application round. (I even got so frantic after receiving one notification email that I accidentally clicked on the wrong embedded link and was led to some generic "welcome to grad school" site that, for half a minute of euphoric delusion, I thought meant I had been accepted. File this under "Top Ten Ways to Start Your Morning Crying a Little.")

Then, on the last day of February, I got The Happy Call from one of my remaining schools. A week later, I got a call from my second school, and suddenly everything changed. I went from feeling hopeless and helpless to the enviable dilemma of having a choice in the matter, all after I had pretty much given up.

Bottom line, it's still really early in the admissions game, even though it doesn't feel that way when you're the one waiting. There are lots more acceptances to be given out before the Admittance Fairy flies away 'til next year, and we're all rooting for you