Maya Patt ‘23

Persuasion Sensation

At exactly 5 p.m. last year, on April 1, I opened my Harvard application portal to find words that would strike despair into the hearts of any high school senior: “We regret to inform you that….” 

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Rejection? From Harvard? How preposterous. I had never been rejected from anything in my life. 

Most would break down and cry. I, unlike most, responded with the grace of a sane individual (sobbed, smashed my collection of tiny glass animal figurines, wrote sad haikus and limericks like this: Harvard you’re so mean / my eyes are fountains of tears / mom says please shut up.)

But then I collected myself, and set upon a course that none, except I, have been brave enough to chart before now. I overcame rejection, and now you can, too. 

I present to you, “Maya Patt’s Guide to Rejecting Rejection.”  It beings by sending an assertive email like this:

“Dear admissions team,

After careful consideration of your letter, I have decided I have no choice but to beg. Please please please please please let me in. Please. [Whimpering eyes emoji, crying emoji, crying cat emoji]. Por favor. My lips are eternally pouted. 

Xoxo,

Maya”

They will not respond to the first email. Do not worry. Write a few more emails.  These should do the trick, especially if you say, “I hate you. You suck, and you’re smelly, and you’re gentrifying your neighborhood.”

To which they will respond, “Our decision is final. Do not email us again.”

You should definitely follow that up with, “I didn’t mean it, I will do anything for you. Also, sorry about the typo in the 22nd email I sent. It should be spelled blackmail, not ‘black male.’ I hope this has no bearing on your final admissions decision.” 

And their return email will say, “Maya. Please stop emailing us. The gift baskets are getting excessive (though Maureen wanted me to tell you she loves the chocolates). We are up to our necks in tissue paper.  

Regarding the typo, we think you’re stupid. Obviously. To reiterate, do not email us again.”

Now it’s time to be gracious and heed their requests. Instead of email, send handwritten letters. 

You will have to purchase your body weight in postage stamps. Don’t worry if this requires you to take out a small loan; this is perfectly normal. 

Other methods that may work include carrier pigeon, a small child with the words “please let Maya into Harvard” tattooed on their arms, custom-made fortune cookies, and barbershop quartet.

At this point, they will issue a restraining order. Don’t panic. This is all part of the process. 

Ok, maybe you should panic a little. 

Panic. A lot. Hide away in your room and emerge three days later a changed (and smellier) person. 

Go to therapy. Engage in positive self-talk. Make plans for the future. These should somehow include witnessing a heinous crime. Testify as a key witness in the trial of a mobster and ask to be put in the witness protection program. 

Wake up as Paya Matt in Paris. Paris, Texas. Be real, did you actually think you were going to Paris, France? Idiot. 

Book a one-way ticket to Cambridge, MA. Purchase a comically large blonde wig. Try a new accent with everyone you meet. At TSA, use cockney; with the Uber driver, roll out Swedish chef. You are unknowable – an international woman of mystery. 

Arrive at the gates of Harvard ready to learn. No one will know it is you. Ignore the wanted posters of your face all around campus. Wow, is that really you from Senior year? You had a lot of pimples. 

Break into a dorm and move in. Enroll in a lot of pointless classes like Examining the State of 21st Century Education, or Ethics 101. Your transcript reads like the alphabet. 

Graduate. You did it! That wasn’t so bad, was it?

Of course, there is another, easier method that you may want to try, but it’s much less exciting:  have your parents donate $10 million to Harvard University.