I regret conveying this, especially in print.

I have decided having you in this program is not a good idea. Although you are a terrific applicant, I just do not see us on the same wavelength.

Welcome to the nightmare of every graduate-school applicant or employment-seeking twenty-something.

With an economic crisis at hand and unemployment soaring to 6.5 percent, rejection should not come as a shock. Furthermore, with the average graduate program’s acceptance rate — 5 to 10 percent by my unofficial count — it seems rejection may even be probable.

Even with this probability, however, most ISU graduates still believe they will get a job, or at least make it into graduate school.

College students pay extra money to get an education, which they will later compensate for by receiving higher paying, more prestigious jobs. Isn’t this what we have always been taught?

Unfortunately, with an increase of college graduates and a decrease of available jobs, these teachings do not represent reality.

Vying for positions, we have become students who hunt through wanted ads and Web sites, polish our resumes, invent cover letters and beg the highest-qualified people we know for recommendations and references. We join clubs and acquire internships that will give us the greatest possible stepping-stone to a future career.

Although these success strategies are nothing new, the competition for positions is taking on unprecedented ferocity. People with passion, a strong work ethic, impeccable social skills and clear, concise writing may be able to land an interview. Maybe.

So, how do “terrific applicants” get on the same wavelength as the professionals they wish to impress?

As an editor of multiple personal statements and resumes, the most successful applicants tailor each piece of writing to a specific audience: prospective employers and graduate school admissions boards. Recently, this “tailoring” has taken on a whole new meaning: Internet-stalking future employers and supervising professors to make ourselves the most appealing candidate.

“I’ve noticed that Target is ecologically friendly, which is great because the environment is one of my top priorities.”

“I’d love to help you research applied mechanics, especially the Dynamics of Continuous Systems Subjected to Traveling Loads.”

These statements are wonderful fodder for employment, but what if they are only based-on-a-true-story? What happens when a student would rather become an engineer than research applied mechanics?

Ethical problems arise when we cease to represent ourselves, becoming prostitutes of research interests and building facades of false interest. At a certain point, it seems the pressure to succeed is too large a load for integrity to bear.

Thus, honesty and passion are swapped for security and acceptance. If a graduate panel asks how interested an applicant is in literature, he or she is expected to answer, “Post-colonial or romantic? I love them both.”

To answer questions truthfully, with full knowledge the answer is unexpected, is to become vulnerable to defeat.

Certainly, success is satisfying. Even success in outwitting application questions can be a rush. However, as the thrill of acceptance wanes, we must face the environment we have created. If we were honestly passionate about the field, we would love the position — instead, we hate our jobs and dream of someday pursuing the interests we never dared to express.

Defeat rooted in integrity may be better than success bred of pretense. Perhaps rejection is better than being placed on a wavelength of stagnant yes-men. Eventually, an honest answer may land an applicant exactly where she belongs.

— Julie Young is a senior in journalism and mass communication from Indianola.