By Finley Wittkamp

Senior year is basically one long press conference about college. The second anyone finds out you’re a Senior, they ask, “So, where are you applying?” It doesn’t matter if it is your dentist, your neighbor, your mom’s friend, or the cashier at Target. Everyone suddenly becomes deeply invested in your future.

And the questions never stop at just where you are applying. It immediately turns into, “What’s your top choice?” or “Where do you really want to go?” as if I’ve been secretly carrying around a finalized life plan since the age of six. I can barely decide what I want for dinner, let alone where I want to live for the next four years.

Which is ironic. Because I have been preparing for college for a long time. I have literally been writing thank you notes since I was little, saying, “Thank you for the birthday money, I am saving it for college.” So you would think I would feel prepared by now.

I don’t.

Wake Forest campus tour. Photo credit: Wake Forest University via instagram @wfuadmissions.

I went into this search thinking that campus tours would make my decision easier. Visit enough schools, and one will click, right? That is what everyone told me. So I followed College Counselor Erin Breese’s advice and looked at everything: big or small, urban or rural, private or public. 

In the last three years, I ended up touring 34 colleges. 34 sling bags, admissions packets, stickers, and maps. 34 hour-long information sessions about interdisciplinary opportunities. 34 walking tours, with every one ending the same way. A bright-eyed student guide gathers everyone in a semicircle, smiles like they’re in a toothpaste commercial, and says something along the lines of, “And that’s when I knew this school was for me… it just felt like home.”

After visiting 34 campuses, I’ve felt many things—mildly impressed, lost, wondering if I had just walked in a circle—but never “home.”

Virginia Tech information session. Photo credit: Virginia Tech via instagram @vtadmissions.

Meanwhile, it felt like many of my friends visited one school and fell in love immediately. They stopped in the school store and bought up all the merchandise available. They dressed in the school’s colors, applied Early Decision, and by December, they were hanging their signs on the College Counseling windows and changing their instagram bios. I won’t lie, I was jealous. That level of certainty is efficient.

My process has been anything but.

At some point, all of the campuses start to blend together. Another state-of-the-art building, another bell tower, another patch of grass where students hang out, another cafeteria with more options than anyone actually needs. I started taking notes on my phone just to keep the different colleges straight, with random descriptors like “too preppy,” “too quiet,” “good energy,” or “felt like everyone knew each other.” It became less about the brochure highlights and more about the small, unpolished moments.

But something useful did come out of these tours. I began to figure out what I didn’t want. Massive schools, where you needed a bus to get around, were not for me. City campuses, where the quad was the sidewalk, were also not. Slowly, without realizing it, I was building a filter.

So I stopped waiting for that warm movie moment where the sun hits the library just right, a breeze rustles the leaves, and suddenly I whisper, “This is it.”

William and Mary admitted students day. Photo credit: William and Mary via instagram @wmadmissions.

Instead, I started asking more practical questions. Did I like the people? Did students seem collaborative or competitive? Did they wear sweatpants to class? Could I academically and mentally survive finals week here? These felt like more honest benchmarks than chasing a feeling I wasn’t sure would ever come.

And then came the part no one really prepares you for: deciding. Junior me thought the hardest part would be the SATs, crafting the perfect Common App essay that tells my story (while setting me apart from the other million applicants), or finding time for all of the supplemental essays. But now, sitting with multiple incredible options in front of me, I just kept asking, “Now what?” There is no final tour guide to step in and say “This is the one.” There is just you, your pros and cons list that keeps changing, your parents hovering nearby, offering thoughtful input that may or may not include the phrase “tuition,” and everyone else around you saying, “The decision is obvious!” and each person saying a different school.

I found myself going back and forth between schools, picturing completely different versions of my life. At one, I imagined spirited, packed games and endless energy. At another, I pictured smaller classes and closer relationships with professors. I reread acceptance letters, revisited websites, and even thought back to the tiny details from my tours.

Old Well at UNC. Photo credit: Jessica Wittkamp.

At some point the decision becomes less about finding the perfect place and more about finding the right-enough one—the one where the academics make sense, the people seem normal (or my kind of normal), and I can picture myself building a life. I asked myself where I feel the most comfortable being uncomfortable. Which place made me curious, instead of impressed? 

So, no, I didn’t have a dramatic, “This is the one!” moment. Just me comparing three great options, trusting my gut a little more than I wanted to, and realizing “home” is not always something you recognize instantly. Sometimes, it is something you choose, and sometimes it is something you build. So next year, as I step onto campus, I know that I have the opportunity to make my college experience perfect for me, and not anyone else. 

Go Heels!