At First They Flirt, Then Colleges Crush

Now it's almost the luck of the draw, Nassirian said. He also said perhaps half the people denied from the top schools would, if admitted, graduate cum laude.

It's not easy to say no, said Richard Shaw, dean of admission and financial aid at Stanford. "We just want to be gentle." The key, he said, "is to tell students that they're wonderful. Because they are."

"We all probably labor more over the letters with bad news," said Jim Miller, dean of admission at Brown, "than the letters with good news." It's a hard thing to do well, he said, so they keep tweaking.

The long-standing Hopkins denial letter was deemed a bit too abrupt and unkind, Conley said. Many schools have had a fairly terse "we-regret-to-inform-you" style. But Conley said Hopkins officials had also heard from colleagues at schools that had switched "from a Jack Webb, 'Just-the-facts-ma'am' letter to a kindler, gentler approach."

So kind, in fact, that people were calling to ask: Did I get in or not?

Conley said he thinks admissions officers have gotten swept up with the self-esteem movement, too. "These kids have been nurtured. Even if their team finishes eighth in the soccer league, they still get a trophy."

So Hopkins took the middle ground, by softening the overall tone of the letter but keeping the introduction direct: "We are unable to offer you a place in the Class of 2010."

Many admissions officers said it's key -- just as with any relationship ending -- to be clear that this is a final decision. Because every year, some students just can't let go and keep calling, keep asking why it's over.

And in the end? Even after all those rejection letters, things have a way of working out. Every fall, UCLA does a national survey of freshmen.

Most of them say they're at their first choice college.

* * *

This spring, Tanvi was in agony. It felt like the final moment of her 12 years of education, she said, the ultimate test of all her hard work.

When the envelopes came from Harvard, from Brown, from Johns Hopkins, from MIT and from the University of Pennsylvania, Tanvi called her parents over to see. Each time, she took the letter to the Hindu shrine in her family's house and thought, "Please let this be a 'yes.' "

"Then," she said, "crash."

Tanvi especially disliked the letters that eased into the bad news, because as she was reading paragraphs about how many exceptionally qualified applicants had applied, blah, blah, she was thinking, " 'Oh, maybe I have a chance.' "

Also annoying, she said: the endings, which she summarized in a syrupy voice as, " 'Don't get discouraged; we know you'll have success at other places.' . . . They make it seem like, 'Oh, it's not a big deal you didn't get in.' But they know you're crushed."

Like so many other students, Tanvi went back to the letters from her safety schools. She had gotten into the University of Maryland, into its honors program. "So life isn't completely hopeless," she said.

And by now? She's so over it. Forget all those Ivies.

She visited U-Md., met students, felt like she could really stand out in the pre-med program. "It was amazing. It was so much fun," she said. "This is really where I was meant to be."