Molly Zussman Murphy’s Law (“Anything that can go wrong will go wrong”) is as applicable in school as it is anywhere else. Even more disheartening, some students will take advantage of the misfortunes of other students. During my final project history class last year, our group’s tape didn’t work. Before it was eventually fixed, a longtime classmate stung me with the words: “Well, if theirs isn’t going to work, can I go? I’m an opportunist!”

That was probably the most obvious example of what’s been bugging me (and others, too) since we got back to school. It’s college application season, and the Class of 2006 has finally stopped pretending that we aren’t completely obsessed with Getting In.

I don’t think that the stress part of it is very remarkable because I knew it was coming. What I didn’t expect was the discreet (and sometimes not so discreet) but fierce competition among members of the senior class.

A few weeks ago, I observed a college information session in my school’s career center. It was very small—only a counselor with two of her students and the college admissions officer. The “subtle” way the counselor was selling her gifted, excellent, amazing, deep, talented and profound (profound?) students was funny at the time but later kind of troubling.

Is that what I’m supposed to do? Is this what the colleges are looking for—ambitious, wellrounded students who are obnoxiously effective at nameand accomplishment-dropping?

I know there’s a certain amount of presentation I have to maintain in this process: they don’t know me and it’s not in my best interest to write them a Personal Statement (the ambiguous name of the application essay) about something a 17-year-old will find funny.

I can’t go to an interview, where I’m expected to give thoughtful answers and ask intelligent questions (and of course wear my glasses), and tell them that I will do whatever I can to avoid math and will probably make for a difficult roommate.

I know now why I was so shocked at all of this. For most of high school, there’s been a tacit, polite level of competition. Only under-eye bags and quietly growing lists of extracurricular activities could give us away.

But now, that veil of normalcy is gone and nobody cares that you’ve been wearing your UCLA sweatsuit every day and are practically foaming at the mouth with ambition. Any topic is likely to turn into a tense discussion of Who’s Applying Where and I’ve pretty much stopped trying to change the subject.

I can’t say with a straight face that we should relax and try to keep some perspective because you know that’s not going to happen.

I’m as guilty of this as anyone, but if I hold on tight, try to laugh at the most extreme of the “opportunists” and maybe let Mom wash the sweatsuit, things will work out. I know that I will live to see April and the inevitably thin—and possibly thick—envelopes that it will bring.

Molly Zussman is a senior at Thousand Oaks High School and will be writing a monthly column for the Thousand Oaks Acorn.