LETTER TO MY HIGH SCHOOL SELF

Dear Ali —

The year is 1990, and you’re a senior at Livingston High School in New Jersey. Your hair is big — the result of monthly perms, endless teasing, and Aqua Net. Your lips are glossy in your go-to shade, Silver City Pink, and your feet are cozy in EG Smith scrunched socks and white Keds. You spend way too much time on the phone — the corded kind — and even more time making mix tapes for your friends on your dual cassette player.

You’re outgoing, surrounded by great friends, and always up for weekend plans. You do fine in school but definitely prefer pep rallies over physics. On your report cards, teachers write things like, “Ali is bright but talks too much in class, she is a social butterfly,” and you know they’re right — you just have too much to say.

When it comes to college, you apply to about five schools because that’s what everyone does. You type your essays on a word processor and mail them in, hoping your guidance counselor remembered to send your transcript. There was a Common App, but it was a paper form you photocopied and mailed to each school — no portals, no logins, no instant confirmations. You find out where you got in by waiting for an envelope — a big one means “accepted,” a small one means “rejected.” And no, there were no dramatic acceptance videos being shared all over the internet or schools’ Instagram pages dedicated entirely to college acceptances.

If only you knew how different it would be 35 years later…

Now, as a mom to two high schoolers — one a freshman and one starting the college planning process as a junior — you’re watching your daughters step into a world that’s so much more complicated. Online applications, test-optional policies changing by the minute, essay consultants, and spreadsheets tracking every deadline — it’s a lot. The pressure starts earlier, and the conversations feel bigger. It’s exciting, yes, but also overwhelming at times.

If I could tell my younger self one thing, it would be this: You don’t need to have it all figured out. The college you attend doesn’t define who you’ll become — but the experiences you seek and the people you meet will shape you in ways you can’t imagine.

At the University of Maryland, you’ll make lifelong friends, go on unforgettable spring breaks, dance your heart out at sorority formals, and intern on Capitol Hill. The list — and the memories — are endless. Sure, a part of you will one day wish you’d gone to a more “academic” school, but you’ll go on to law school and have an incredible career in news. And one day, you’ll try to share a little of that hard-earned wisdom with your daughters.

Times today are different. There’s more pressure, more comparison, and so much noise — from peers, from social media, from TikTok. The FOMO is real.

So to my daughters, I’d say: Enjoy the ride. Trust yourself. And remember — your mom once sat at a kitchen table surrounded by paper applications, feeling the same mix of nerves and excitement you will soon feel too.