For Those Whose Teachers Didn’t Tell Them

Let me pass on some of the best wisdom I got from one of mine.

The year was 2019. Or perhaps it was the very first days of 2020. Either way, I was a junior in high school, and my friends and I were filing into French class. As we took our seats, ready for the usual class period, our teacher did something strange—she started speaking to us in English.

Mademoiselle never spoke in English. Our class was fun and lively, often full of tangents and jokes, but everything was done in French. If we wanted to tell a story that had nothing to do with what we were studying, she would let us—in French. If we wanted to poke fun at one another in our small, tight-knit class, we could—in French. We could sing, dance, eat, go outside, listen to music, choose our seats—but it was all in French. It’s not that she was strict. The opposite, really. Her class wasn’t rigid in the least, which is what made us all want to get better at the language; she was the one teaching us how to tell those long-winded, unrelated stories in French and how to word the proper playful insult. Mademoiselle’s class was where we went to have a break in the day—not from learning, but from stressing. But still, Mademoiselle only spoke to us in French. So on this day, when she started class speaking English, we all paid attention.

“Okay. This is the time of year that I give the college talk to my juniors,” she began.

The tension in the room was palpable as she uttered the dreaded C word. We were all so tightly wound about starting the process of looking at schools and applying to them.

Mademoiselle went on to tell us that, contrary to what we had been led to believe, reaching for just the highest-ranked school was not the most important factor in our college decision process. She told us that, in her experience, college was a build-your-own journey, where what you put in is what you get out. And most importantly, we were not to take rejections as either, A) reflections on ourselves or our qualifications, or B) a sign that our futures were doomed because we didn’t get into one particular school.

“You don’t want to be at a school that doesn’t want you,” she concluded.

I didn’t believe her. Or rather, I didn’t believe her as it pertained to me. See, I was 16 and had already picked out my picture-perfect future. I knew which highly-ranked school I wanted to go to, and it’s not that I thought my future would be ruined if I didn’t get in, but I was so sure that it was the right place for me. In my mind, the next year wasn’t meant to see which school was best for me; it would be devoted to working towards getting into the one I had already set my sights on.

We spent the rest of class that day getting to ask Mademoiselle for advice and listening to her wisdom about college and beyond. She let us use the time to air our worries. Since she taught both juniors and seniors, she had watched countless students go through the college process from start to finish over the years. She didn’t want to see the process tear us down.

Even though I didn’t fully believe what she was saying (again: 16! Stubborn! Perfection-obsessed!), I appreciated her taking the time to let us be scared kids instead of academic weapons. She was the only teacher who ever devoted a whole class period—purposely—for that.

Poetic justice would suggest that I went through senior year and learned that she was right—that I didn’t get into that one school I set my heart on and instead graduated high school having pivoted my plan. That is not what happened. No—I applied to that one school, and Mademoiselle so kindly wrote me my recommendation for it. I got in. I decided immediately to go. When I was handed my diploma, I thought I was seeing through the plan I’d crafted a year earlier.

It took me almost two whole years after that before I would learn that Mademoiselle was, of course, right.

I did go to that school—and it very quickly didn’t work out. It wasn’t the right fit. I went through two more rounds of college applications, during which I still couldn’t fathom how my carefully thought through plan could fail so spectacularly. As I applied to new schools and tried to pick up the pieces, Mademoiselle was there, sending me a recommendation whenever I needed it and championing me towards whatever chapter came next.

During this time, I thought often about Mademoiselle’s advice for choosing a college. I still didn’t fully believe her—at the time, I was so disillusioned from the whole experience that I doubted whether I’d ever find the right place for me—but her words made an impact. When it came time for me to officially choose a school to transfer to, I fell back on them; all I wanted was a school where I was going to be happy. I didn’t pay much mind to any of the “important” factors I’d weighed so heavily in high school. Though I didn’t trust Mademoiselle’s words would prove true, I still used them as a guide.

It took me until I was 19 to believe the advice she had given to our junior year French class. And it took me until I was 20 before I passed it on to other people and saw how many others needed to hear it.

Last year, right before May 1—the day when most seniors officially commit to a college—I made a TikTok about things I wish I had known before college decision day. This advice was a mix of lived experience and the wisdom that Mademoiselle had bestowed upon us during that one class period.

1. You’re going to be fine, even if you choose the “wrong” school.

2. It is going to work out, or you are going to be uncomfortable enough to make a change. And, spoiler alert: this is true for pretty much anything in life.

3. You’re allowed to have anxiety on May 1, regardless of if the school you choose is the right fit. Mademoiselle saw our collective anxiety forming a year before we had committed to schools. I wish I had understood then that planning your future out to the letter is not a cheat code for escaping the feelings that come with big life changes.

4. I hope you celebrate your choice on May 1. And I hope you also know that you’re not locked into the choice you make on May 1.

The TikTok got more traction than I thought I would, and as we get closer to May 1 this year, it has started to have more engagement again. I can only guess it’s from high school seniors who are looking for some reassurance as they prepare to step into the next phase of their lives. I put this advice here, then, in the hopes that it finds whomever may need it.

I was really, really lucky. I had a teacher that cared about us as students so fiercely that she made her classroom a safe space for our college worries—from the very first moment we began the process. Like I said, I was lucky. Not everybody gets a Mademoiselle.

So, as we approach May 1, I hope that I can pass along her wisdom and confidence in how things will work out. Hopefully, some high schoolers out there are less stubborn in listening to that wisdom than I was.

Oh, and to Mademoiselle: Merci pour tout.