On a recent scroll through my LinkedIn, I stumbled upon a profile of a sixth grader. Shocked, I clicked on it and went through it. I saw how they had more accolades than I had in my senior year of high school. This made me wonder: Should we be on LinkedIn or even thinking about the college admissions process at such an early age? While understanding higher education is important, starting this process in middle school feels excessive.

I can’t even recall what I was doing in the sixth grade. Yeah, there was the science fair and the award show, but I wasn’t posting about it on LinkedIn. I didn’t even know what LinkedIn was back then. Seeing people this young hustling to get ahead raises a serious question: why are we doing this? I think it’s because of a mix of cultural norms and societal pressures around success. It seems these days that success and visibility are closely tied. This means that if you haven’t yet posted it or if people don’t know, then you’re automatically unsuccessful.

Has the college admissions process become so demanding that we need to start preparing in middle school? Is the pressure so intense that it feels like you must cure cancer to get in? Is the competition too rigorous that we need to prepare at an early age? The sheer competitiveness of it all makes me reflect on my own application. Preparing and cultivating the document that would give me an admission letter was like squeezing water out of stone. The constant edits and meticulously curating lists of activities to showcase made the process quite the journey. Although it was a heavy task that many of my peers can recall as the worst time in high school, it didn’t require showcasing every childhood accomplishment to have a shot. I didn’t list when I volunteered at a summer camp when I was 12 or when I won the art award in seventh grade, but rather, I listed things that I thought genuinely mattered to me. Unfortunately, the culture behind college applications has become too hostile, making it even more elitist than ever. For example, the demand for college prep advisors has increased since the past. Many of the students I’ve encountered at Stanford seem to have had help in the college process in one way or another. College prep counselors are expensive and make it hard for those who can’t afford the luxury of having them to keep up.

Throughout my first quarter at Stanford, I’ve heard things that reinforce these ideas even more. I’ve overheard students talking about playing a sport they didn’t even enjoy to make it seem unique on their application or starting a “nonprofit” to make it seem like they cared about a cause. This shocked me as I realized the level at which some people would swoop to enter this institution. It makes me reflect on how I view them; it allows me to see what they strive for and what they are willing to do for what they want. While there are many examples of people who are genuinely passionate about their pursuits, it still confirms the sheer competitiveness and intense pressure to stand out. Circling back, are we sacrificing our youth for college admissions? The fierce anxiety surrounding the process seems to stem from a fear shared by parents and children: the fear that they’ll fall behind if they don’t do the absolute most. While preparing and planning for college is necessary, it shouldn’t come at the expense of childhood experiences. These experiences are crucial for individuality and development. Some students sacrifice time with their family or social bonding. Being locked away and consumed by the college admission process strips individuals away from spontaneity and even exploring hobbies for fun rather than for an activities list.

The never-ending chase for awards and accolades at such an early age feels excessive. Is the goal of life really to get into a prestigious university, or is it far more profound than that? Sometimes, we can lose sight of what truly matters and what we want. We shouldn’t sacrifice passion and authenticity for a college decision. This is not to say we shouldn’t strive for excellence, but a balance must be maintained. As with most things in life, too much can be harmful, just as too little can be. As a collective, we must find a middle ground where students can enjoy their youth while pursuing personal and academic achievements. Finding and fostering this balance is crucial for their well-being and creating genuine passion and authenticity, which should matter more than a well-packaged resume. The solution to all of this should start with a look at the definition of success. What it means to be “successful” should be defined internally rather than externally. Placing more on curiosity, personal growth, and creativity rather than entirely on achievements. Educational institutions can also put less pressure on students with standardized test scores or GPAs but look at students holistically, rewarding them on their unique journey.

Looking back at my experiences, I realize that the stress from my junior and senior years was immense and already too much to unpack. I remember returning from school, working on my college application, and forgetting to eat. Definitely not the healthiest period of my life, but I felt the need to do it as everyone around me was also so dedicated to this process. It makes me think of how much stress these younger students are carrying. It almost makes me want to tell them they’ll be alright, and I can’t help but question whether starting so young is the answer. Whether it’s the standardized system that creates this pressure or the students simply following the crowd behavior, we don’t know what it takes to get into a school like Stanford. Still, I am sure that it isn’t fair to ourselves to deprive ourselves of memories of youthful experiences that don’t revolve around the college admissions process.

The college admissions process has undoubtedly become a source of immense pressure, pushing students to sacrifice their youth in the race for perfection. While in this race, I think preserving the joy, creativity, and authenticity of childhood is equally essential. Success shouldn’t come at the expense of mental health or genuine passion. And as for a university whose motto is “Die Luft der Freiheit weht” (“the winds of freedom blow”), we should advocate for an admissions process that doesn’t target the elite or wealthy. We shouldn’t base admission on a polished resume or a unique activity but rather on uniqueness. We should seek for the winds to approach all who strive for it.