Dear college dean: I regret to inform you ...

Byline: Erin Miller/20Below News Team/The Register-Guard

It's a rite of spring.

Rejection letters from the highest institutions throughout the United States fill the mailboxes of anxious high school seniors everywhere. One part transparent diplomacy and one part humiliation, these letters deal a crushing blow in declaring the prospective student as unworthy.

But what if the tables were turned? What if the power of selection belonged to the student?

As I look ahead to my senior year, I wonder how it would feel to turn down some of the top universities. I can dream, can't I? My rejection letter might look a little like this:

Dear Dean of Admissions,

After careful review of your many shiny leaflets and traveling campus salesmen, I sincerely regret to inform you that I am unable to accept your gift of admission for the fall quarter 2007.

Let me assure you that I understand and share your disappointment. I continue to become more passionate about life, the universe and everything while your paradigm has not expanded and your bloated reputation has only increased.

For the fall of 2007, I expect to apply at schools I deem interesting, active and compassionate, rather than 20-dozen schools who tout the world's largest number of alumni-turned-senators. Senators do not presently impress me to a huge degree, and only one school can be chosen.

Each school is unique and each dean of admissions presents wonderful reading materials. My work is extraordinarily difficult: I thoroughly review the mailing address on each novel-sized packet of information related to your newly renovated dorms and impressive monument to the religion of football. I carefully balance speaking voice and the extent to which your presentation sounded like an infomercial. I look at ZAGAT dorm food ratings, proximity to the Mall of America, number of pictures of your university president shaking hands with Tony Blair, community involvement, leadership and work experience.

I consider as well the opportunities and challenges you present your Lexus-driving students as they strive to attain degrees with the proper amount of acronyms attached. Since they attain so much in their high schools as Prom King and Captain of the Varsity Underwater Basket Weaving team, I am sure your high level of prestige will entice their parents to write you many checks with their second and third mortgages.

No single attribute guarantees my acceptance. There are simply too many qualifiers to mention. Undoubtedly, you are wondering what I want out of a college if it isn't your product. As an established institute of higher learning, you deserve an explanation.

Although I realize my logic will be disappointing for you, here is the truth: What I want out of a college is not a hooded sweatshirt proclaiming that I was worthy enough to join your club. I want an experience that is like the real world. I ask you, does that world exist in your hallowed halls? Is your level of diversity simply another percentage to tack onto the back cover of your view-book?

I enjoy developing - as many of your recruitment materials proclaim - "the whole person," body, mind and soul. Your level of preparation for this task seems inadequate. I've been to summer camp before. I know what it feels like to be in a homogenous environment that stinks of intellectual conversation. Do you offer anything like reality in your coursebook?

I've spent the past 17 years of my life preparing myself for you. I have been social-scienced and extracurriculared until my pores ooze resume material.

Now it's your turn. If having me as a student remains your goal, you should know there are a number of other opportunities for change. Try some creativity, and please stop watching the Home Shopping Network for your recruitment and sales inspiration.

Again, I wish you every success in achieving your educational goals.

Sincerely,

Erin Miller, Class of 2011

Erin Miller will be a senior this fall at Churchill High. She can be reached at 20Below@ guardnet.com.