Dear Wharton,

Apr 10, 2024

It is hard to explain, Wharton, but I think I have gotten to know you so well that I forgot to stop and appreciate you. You have become ordinary to me—and you are far from ordinary.

December 15th, 2021. I don’t think I have ever refreshed my browser so many times in an hour. Toggling between Poets&Quants and the admissions portal, I was filled with anxiety, waiting to see what that letter said.

“…it gives me great pride to be among the first to welcome you to Wharton.”

I read it five times just to make sure.

Now, there is one week of class left, and I am looking at this letter again and having trouble imagining myself not being here.

It has happened to me before, and I think it happens to everyone— once you get what you want, it doesn’t feel so special anymore. Sometimes, the pursuit of something is more exciting than the destination itself.

When I got to you, everything was exciting and new, but of course, as time passed, papers, group projects, assignments, and class polls became chores—like taking out the trash and making the bed. It was not something I got to do, but something I had to do. My gratitude got lost.

But now that my time with you is coming to a close, I feel that sense of gratitude returning. Looking back on this two-year journey, I have a lot to acknowledge you for.

I am grateful you made me feel so ordinary. Every day, I was part of and competing with the best of the best. And I am grateful for that. The last thing you want to do is leave a place like this feeling like you are the smartest person in the room. I am not, and I hope I never am. You introduced me to some unbelievably smart people.
I am grateful for the people who helped me feel extraordinary. “I’m going to need you to start believing in yourself right about now.” Thank you to the faculty and staff who helped me see the extraordinary in me when all I could see were my weaknesses. Thank you to my classmates for acknowledgments like, “You ask really great questions.” Or, “I love reading your blog posts.” All of the small compliments went a long way.
You introduced me to my worst self. Pressure, competition, imposter syndrome, and maybe a person or two I hope to never see again. You pushed me to the edge of myself so I could grow. These tests were all in a controlled environment—the Wharton bubble—and I needed them to become a better version of myself.
You introduced me to my best self. Someone who isn’t afraid to stand up at Quantico, get yelled at by a Marine, sit back down, and move on. At my best, I am lending a helping hand, making things fun, and not overthinking things too much. I realize how much I have overcome and the strength it took to get to where I am, and I am proud of who I am becoming (whatever that is…thanks, Follies).
You gave me lifelong friends. Friends who do things like driving you to knee surgery (no, not from ski weekend) at 5 AM, friends who will sit on the couch and cry with you all Sunday, get you addicted to Love is Blind, and make you go outside for a walk, and friends you travel the world with. All of these memories make me smile.
You have so much to offer; you made it really hard to choose. I couldn’t do it all here. Nobody could. When we look back, we all wonder, " Should I have done more?” I don’t know if I could have possibly done more. There are endless resources and events. The FOMO is so real. But I guess that is life, right? Now that it is over, I feel like I chose the right things. I am happy with how this unfolded.