The Results are in! - Transfer Admissions Decisions by Enyjé Sandoz

When I considered writing this blog, I assumed I’d be able to articulate my thoughts and opinions about my transfer admissions process. However, I am on my third draft and sixth variation of an opening.

Truthfully, I do not know what I want to convey, but at the same time, I have a lot to say. I contemplated approaching this methodically and reflectively as I have taken the time to process my emotions regarding the topic and received great insights. On the other hand, I am not sure if the methodical and reflective approach is indicative of my current mood as I write this. 

The transfer admissions process is not for the faint of heart— the emotional rollercoaster of an acceptance, waitlisted status, an appeal, and final decisions.

I received answers but was left with questions. 

My relationship with school is, for lack of better words, complicated or toxic, as some would say. I am in love with learning, but I hate school. I despise school with every fiber of my being. Despite excelling academically since the beginning of my school career, I realized that the focal point of school was based on performance, not on learning. With that realization, I no longer found school to be fun.

From accelerated curriculum in elementary and middle school to Honors and AP courses in high school, innumerable amounts of academic accolades, achievements, and honors, I hit a breaking point during my junior year of high school. Once I achieved my last goal of becoming a member of the National Honors Society, all of that shit became old, tiring, and unfulfilling. 

Throughout high school, I never understood the immense dedication required of students but the lax approach and leniency given to teachers. Being my outspoken self, I never shied away from voicing my opposition to the unfairness and injustice in expectation of students, mainly Honors and AP students. I am not diminishing or invalidating the strain of school for students who were not in those classes; I am only speaking from my personal experiences. I wholeheartedly know that the shit is unreasonable for everyone. 

In high school, I refused to digest the fact that I spent eight hours of my day in school, and when I left and returned home, I had to allot that amount of time (if not more) to homework, projects, etc. The math was not mathing; not one bit. All the while having to maintain family life, social life, extracurricular activities, and, if you were like me – serve detentions for tardiness!

Yes, I served detentions because I was habitually late despite living less than five minutes away. It was never a matter of me not allocating adequate time to wake up, get dressed, and be out the door. It was a matter of prioritizing sanity.

In other words, I needed my morning iced coffee from McDonald’s before I could even think about clocking into school and being among others. So, I would stroll into school well past homeroom, sometimes during the first period, and if I was feeling even more rebellious, during the second period. 

Serving detentions did not provide me with the motivation my school assumed it would with their policy; instead, it made me more reluctant and more inclined to test the boundaries of said policy. 

By my junior year, it was a matter of enduring the tremendous amount of stress and anxiety that came with the pressure of meeting certain expectations or my mental, emotional, and physical well-being. I chose the latter. High school was only temporary; my well-being was forever. To my surprise, my nonchalant attitude towards school during the last trimester resulted in me receiving my best grades that year. 

My senior year was a breeze. At the time, I moved to Pennsylvania and attended a cyber high school. Within an hour, I’d finished my daily assignments and the rest of the day to occupy myself with interests outside school—I chose astrology. 

I maintained all A’s the entire year and graduated with honors. 

The rest is history.

As much as I like to believe my deep vitriol towards high school led me to dismiss the idea of college, I never felt compelled to pursue a higher education. Due to my academic excellence, I knew it was the expectation. But, I never desired or foresaw myself attending college, even when I would tour schools with older sisters.

I’d even voiced my uncertainty about college as early as my 10th-grade year. I remember talking to my 10th-grade English teacher, Mrs. Adair, about my feelings toward college. Unsuspectingly, she suggested taking a gap year and utilizing that time to travel. I will remember that conversation; I appreciated her input as it was not of a typical teacher’s nature when talking to an Honors student. 

Now, if you knew me when I was in the 8th grade, you knew that I was gung-ho about UCLA. Every other word out of my mouth was about me moving to Los Angeles and going to UCLA.

I knew nothing about the school. My sole reason for deeming UCLA as my dream school was because I wanted to move to California. I did not know their mascot, school colors, or programs they offered – I could go on. All I knew was that the school was in Los Angeles, and Los Angeles was where I wanted to be.

Due to the area I grew up and lived in, I was banking on college being my vehicle out of an area I hated just as much as school. I did not consider that I could potentially move to Los An without going to college – not that I thought that I could not leave (my family and I were adamant about moving elsewhere), but I did not consider it because the culture of where I lived – college was the way to leave the area and never return. 

After graduating high school, college was the last thing I wanted to consider. However, the unsettling reality of being an adult (in legal terms – 18-year-olds are still teens, practically babies), no longer having the containment of school, and not knowing my path ahead was excruciating.

So, in August 2019, I applied to the Fashion Institute of Technology (FIT) in Manhattan, New York. But, even then, I was still apprehensive about attending and decided I was not going. 

It wasn’t until I was back in South Jersey, in November of 2019, watching That’s So Raven, that I decided I wanted to attend FIT. Within a month, I completed the pending paperwork, forwarded the appropriate documentation, got my housing assignment, and was off to New York in January. 

My time at FIT was short-lived. I was there from January to March of 2020. COVID-19 came in with a vengeance and shut everything down. Despite COVID, I would not have stayed there long. It took the first ten minutes of an 8 am Monday class for me to know that I wanted to drop out. It was something that I could not explain but knew instinctively. 

I loved New York, though. It was my first time away from home and a taste of independence. It took some adjustment – crying once my mom and nephew left from dropping me off, breaking out in hives (almost every night) due to the stress of separation anxiety, and learning my way around, but I would not change it for the world.

The city became my daily and nightly soundtrack, and I enjoyed my walks to campus or to get an iced coffee from McDonald’s. 

COVID came at a convenient time – my family was moving to California. 

Moving to California, I was out of school for a year and four months. On the Fourth of July in 2021, I sat at my kitchen counter and said: “I’m bored. I’m going back to school.”

I proceeded to apply to Glendale Community College (GCC). On July 7th, I (of course) received my acceptance. 

Glendale Community College, GCC, will always have a special place in my heart. I attended GCC during a pivotal and transformative period in my life. While my feelings remained the same about school, I fell back in love with learning.

Attending GCC granted me the freedom to explore. I not only took classes that were by my major, but I also ventured out and took classes such as Piano I, Introduction to Music Business, a few other business courses, and even French, which led to my second degree and a certificate.

Still, I experienced uncertainty and frustration about attending college. Mid-semester, I'd be adamant about dropping out, just for me to create an entire day out of crafting my schedule for the next semester. 

Pure insanity. 

Let me just reiterate: I love learning but I hate school. So, while I was enthralled with all that I was learning (Linguistics, Public Speaking, Statistics, Human Biology, the myriad of Communication courses, Sociology, Political Science, an Anthropology course on Magic, Witchcraft, and Religion -- such a dope course), I do not fancy the grade aspect.

At times, I felt as if the version of myself I detached from during my junior and senior year of high school (the grade-obsessed) reared its ugly head again. Not to mention, each semester, I enrolled in 14-18 credits.

In Fall 2023, I enrolled in 21 credits (wild, I know); my sole purpose for cramming that many courses into one semester was to graduate by Spring. I ended up dropping a course that semester (leaving me at 18 credits) because once again, I value my sanity.

With the grade-obsessed me resurfacing, so did the stress and anxiety. School did not weigh as heavy on my mind as I expected it, with me being so cerebral and all, but I felt it all in my body.

Stress knots, sinus issues, eczema, jaw pain, headaches - I'd be here all day if I were to explain all of my symptoms of stress. I'll summarize it with this: stress found its way to make its presence known. 

I knew it was unhealthy to be coping with that amount of stress for an extensive period, but since graduating, I began to grasp its severity. 

Never again.

The Transferring Process...

During Spring 2023, I decided to pursue transferring to a 4-year university. With my waning conviction about finishing my time at GCC, it seemed laughable to consider putting myself through another two years. 

But, during Spring 2023, I had somewhat of a change of heart. Partially, I believe it was because it was my first semester on campus (I was remote my first two semesters), and I enjoyed the college campus scene.

Thus, to continue getting the campus experience, a 4-year university seemed like the next best thing. The other portion of the equation was being lasered focus on my future (I say that as if that was not always the case). I had two opportunities lined up for the summer: a learning academy and an internship, both paid opportunities. 

With having an internship to look forward to, I felt like the details of my future were slowly ironing out. 

Though the internship was not aligned (directly) with my career aspirations, I am eternally grateful for my time at the Museum of Neon Art. It was my first professional experience; I showcased my abilities, learned the administrative side of an operating establishment, and pushed myself out of my social shell (I, more so, proved to myself that I was not as socially awkward or anxious as I deemed myself). I also love art, history, and museums; it was an invaluable experience. 

Feeling like a professional woman, I figured applying to obtain a bachelor's degree was the obvious thing to do; then, I'd continue to law school; I could pursue a career as a music attorney (copyright and royalty laws are enticing); accordingly, in the Fall, I reviewed my IGETC progress with my counselor and had him review my personal insight questions; on November 29th, I applied to UCLA and UC Santa Barbara. 

My reason for applying to UCLA goes without mentioning, considering the whole 8th-grade me being #BruinLife; the adult me did not experience the same sentiments, especially when I visited the campus.

I felt a disconnect.

I struggled with this for months because my reaction did not make sense. You would think (or at least, I thought) I'd be uber excited to be touring the school I wanted to attend for over ten years, but I felt the opposite. 

Uninspired. 

I was unsure if it was due to fear, a moment of actualizing my "dreams", or the nagging question: was this the school for me? Or the even bigger question: did I want to continue with school?

Applying to UC Santa Barbara was a suggestion from my counselor; in hindsight, I should not have paid the additional $80 to submit my application. I did so anyway because I had guaranteed admissions through their TAG program; to this day, I do not know anything about UC Santa Barbara, and I am okay with that. 

Fast forward to February 2024...

I toyed with the idea of applying to USC for months; during one of my many bouts of transferring considerations in 2022, I was sure I wanted to attend USC because of its communications program; as a communications major, it only made sense I would desire to study at the #1 communications school in the country; still, I remained apprehensive; no particular reason attributed to my apprehension other than the looming question: "Do I want to deal with another two years of school?"

Nonetheless, I decided to apply the day before the application was due. On the same day that I decided to apply, I spilled coffee on my laptop. My mousepad was mainly affected by the spillage, resulting in my cursor glitching every so often.

Tenacity is my middle name; perseverance is encoded in my DNA; therefore, I did not view this as a deterrence or sign to not apply, but as an invitation for a challenge. 

I scheduled an appointment for the next day (the day the application was due) at the Apple Genius Bar to have my mousepad inspected. I told myself that if I was meant to apply, everything would be situated before the 11:59 PM deadline of the application. 

The next day, more like evening, I arrived at the Genius Bar. Despite having an appointment and my slight tardiness, they did not have a specialist on duty. For reference, it was approximately 8 pm -- only 3 hours and 59 minutes until my application was due. I had an application to fill out and questions to answer yet I was as cool as a cucumber. 

I arrived back home and headed straight to my room. Miraculously, my laptop was cured of its glitching aliment. With determination, I began firing away at the application; alas, I arrived at the personal insight questions, which were an absolute breeze - I am a writer, and I get to talk about myself; was it fair to truly consider this as a challenge?

Before I knew it, I completed the application and submitted it on time.

Letter of recommendation and transcripts were the next day's problem; I slept soundly that night. 

April 2024...

It had been months since I submitted my application. So much time had passed, and my fixation on transferring was replaced by graduating.

There was something about petitioning for my degrees and certificate that made a surreal experience seem real. Along with the reality came the pressure.

For some peculiar reason, I had convinced myself I would not make it to the finish line; I would not be graduating in June. 

Back then, I knew that was the stress, anxiety, and lack of capacity I had speaking for me, but that was not how I felt. I was graduating, no matter what. 

Mental blockages aside, I realized that I also felt the pressure of being the first in my immediate family to graduate from college. 

I always valued education (and still do), but I never emphasized going to college or personally validated graduating as an accomplishment due to my qualms about it; however, the realization still hit me like a shit ton of bricks. 

Towards the end of April, I received an email from UC Santa Barbara with an expected release date of decisions (April 23 after 3 pm). After calling UCLA, I was also informed decisions were going to be released at the end of the month, also.

Tuesday, April 23, 2024 (after 3 pm)...

The clock read 3:23-ish. Though the email stated decisions would be released after 3, I did not anticipate that early. So, I logged onto my portal. Before I could process what was happening, I was met with confetti. An indicator that I was accepted. 

My reaction: oh... okay. 

Friday, April 26, 2024 (5 pm-ish)...

I was scrolling through my Explore page on Instagram. I just so happened to click on a UCLA-related post. I read the caption once. I read the caption twice. I checked the date of the post - only a few hours old. I read the caption again; I jumped up, grabbed my laptop, and ran into the living room: decisions were posted. 

Alongside my mom, I fumbled with logging onto the portal. When I finally inputted the correct information, I remained frozen as the screen loaded. Unlike April 23rd, I was not greeted by confetti. I was met with the reality of being waitlisted. 

To say it hurt would be a lie because I did not feel any emotions at that moment.

I announced I was waitlisted, shut my laptop, and retreated to my room. Suddenly, my spark for GCC returned; I was ready to dive head-first into my remaining month and a half at GCC.

But, wait... In true Enyjé fashion, I had to rant about it with my mom. So, I found her in the kitchen and let it all out.

It ended with me pulling out of a trip to UCLA (due to the protests, it was canceled for safety reasons), scheduling a tour at USC (the same day but a different year that I toured UCLA -- May 22nd), and then returning to my schoolwork. 

I pondered joining the waitlist.

I felt slighted even being placed on the waitlist because how could they? 

After much reflection, I thought about 8th-grade me. 

She'd think I was the coolest motherfucker in the world.

Also, I do not take no's lightly. Also (once again), tenacity is my middle name; perseverance is encoded in my DNA. So, I opted to join the waitlist, submitted my letter of continued interest, and moved on. 

Friday, May 24, 2024...

May 24th was quite a day. It was two days after I toured the campus (I loved how the film school was a replica of Paramount Studios) and two days before my birthday.

I knew they decided to post the decision letters earlier than expected, so it was no surprise when I saw that my portal was updated: Rejected.

After being waitlisted by UCLA, I hoped to commit to USC.

To receive a rejection from USC (for the second time - I applied in 2021 but did not care about the rejection due to other things occurring in my life) felt like defeat.

I did not understand why I worked so hard just to be waitlisted and rejected.

I am not a crier, but I boo-hoo cried.

Later that night, I dried my tears. I knew no matter what decisions I received, I'd be alright. I have been through hell and back; no school could make or break me (my mother also reminded me); I am Enyjé. 

I am resilient.

I am tenacious. 

I am ambitious. 

I knew I'd be alright. 

June 1, 2024...

I thanked UC Santa Barbara but respectfully declined their offer. 

Wednesday, June 12, 2024...

I graduated from GCC!

Degrees:

Communication Studies, AA-T

French Language, AA

Certificate:

French Language

Cords:

Honors

Communications Major

Foreign Language Major

Transfer Student (LMFAO)

Stoles:

Black Scholars 

EOPS

Graduation was an odd day. While I reached the end, the journey to get there ran me dry. Truthfully, I did not experience a sense of fulfillment or joy; I was just glad to be done. 

June 22, 2024...

I decided to appeal my USC decision.


July 8, 2024...

After inquiring about the waitlist process over the phone, I visited the admissions office on campus. 

A positive: I ended up at The Grove drinking an iced matcha latte from La La Land Café. 

July 9, 2024...

I emailed UCLA's admissions counselor and one other person to express my discontent with the elusiveness of the waitlist process. 

July 15, 2024...

Final USC Rejection.

At this point, my main concern was receiving my UCLA news before or after August 7th - the day of my Chris Brown show. I did not need my show date ruined by them, much like my birthday was by USC. 

July 27, 2024...

I logged onto the portal at around 8 am:

Rejected from UCLA.

Sheer relief and peace came over me. Pure happiness radiated from me.

"Guess who's not going to college," I said to my mom.

I was genuinely happy. After debriefing with my mom, I wrote in my journal:

Checked my UCLA portal -

Guess who is not going to college?

LMAO. I didn't get in.

Either I'm too tired to care, or I already knew what the out was going to be.

...

I never connected with the school and was basing it off of my 8th-grade desire to be in California. I am happy I still pursued the opportunity - you miss 100% of the shots you don't take, but I am equally relieved that I am not going and I have my final decision.

The process was long and drawn out. I'd prefer it had been instantaneous but oh well.

The final decision letter is dated for Friday, July 26, 2024.

I didn't check it until July 27th at around 8 am.

I am actually excited about what's to come.

I put so much emphasis and focus onto my career and beyond that it's time for me to enjoy it. Reap it.

Funny how yesterday was already chaotic, and all along this letter was waiting for me in the portal.

I made it out of Mays Landing, New Jersey. I made it out of South Jersey. I didn't take school to do so, and I'm still here.

I am in L.A. - California - my 8th grade dream. I am here. In California.

Though my dream did not manifest in the way I thought it would, I am still living my dream. 13-year-old me is still reeling off the fact that I live in Southern California; I'd done so for four years! Four years before even graduating and thinking about transferring. 

I did not envision moving to L.A. during a global pandemic; two months before moving here, living in New York and living in L.A. not being contingent upon college or a job. Who would have thought? 

Not me. 

I thought the formula required me to attend college in L.A. to move here. 

Apparently not. 

Life has a way of showing us our true desires; the reality of it all is I do not desire to be in school. I was miserable while in school. I deserve to be happy and enjoy life. All the while, I still fulfilled my dream of living in California. This situation has shown me that our dreams are still our dreams, even if they look different. 

I do not know what's next for me but I am optimistic. Most of all, I am happy; I am healthy. Those two things matter the most to me; I'll figure the rest out as I journey on.