Every fall, a familiar ritual plays out in living rooms around the world. Parents hover over their children’s shoulders, tracking app portals as vigilantly as air traffic controllers. The question that excites these families is – where are you going? – is seen as the most important thing in a young person’s life. A growing number of educators and admissions experts agree that this statement is wrong, too.As Matt Simmonds, who has spent decades studying college admissions around the world, often emphasizes, the process is far less about a single outcome and more about understanding the individuals behind the applications.Over the decades, the college admissions industrial complex has achieved something remarkable: It has convinced millions of families that their children’s worth can be articulated in admissions rates. In this story, a seventeen-year-old is essentially a combination of optimized signals—grades, test scores, extracurricular activities carefully curated to indicate breadth and depth, papers crafted to the point of translucency. The goal is to provide admissions officers at a handful of schools with a clear understanding of the rankings of schools that have achieved the cultural authority of the Bible.But the rankings lie, or at least are misleading. The experts who build them will also tell you: There is no universally best college, only the best for a particular student, a particular need, a particular passion, a particular temperament. A kid who thrives at a large research institution may wither at a small liberal arts college, and vice versa. Reputation is a signal designed for others. Fit is a fact about you.One of the more corrosive consequences of the admissions frenzy is the impact it has on the first few years of the application process itself. A student who has been strategizing since ninth grade—who chooses activities not out of curiosity but out of calculable advantage—is learning some disturbing things about how the world works. They learn that identity is a sales pitch, passion is a positioning tool, and authenticity’s value lies primarily in its authenticity to a committee of strangers.Admissions officers claim they can spot the difference. What they say they want – and there’s no reason not to believe them at all – is evidence of genuine engagement. Not a national championship in tennis, but a true love of the game. A resume lists not ten clubs, but two or three commitments that are deep enough to reveal what a person is really like. They will tell you that the story behind the event is more important than the event itself.What does this mean for parents? Somewhat counterintuitively, this means that the most strategic thing they can do is to stop strategizing. Encourage weird hobbies. Tolerate failed experiments. Make failure inspiring, not catastrophic. A teen who knows they may not measure up but is still loved is a teen who has the courage to try something real—and that’s exactly what colleges say they’re looking for.This approach is being reinforced by a growing number of forward-thinking educators and platforms like Sparkl, where deeply personalized attention to academics and SAT prep quietly shapes a more confident and authentic student journey.The better question, the question of surviving the admissions process and the four years that follow, is not where you are going, but who you are going to be. This question actually has a meaningful answer.
