Public School Alumni in Stern College
When I started the application process to Stern, I was met with roadblocks and discouragement at every turn. I wrestled with the usual questions every student asks when applying to their dream school and encountering difficulties: Are my grades good enough? Was my essay compelling? Did my recommendation letter make me stand out? But from the beginning, it felt like Stern didn’t want me. I heard people say, “It’s Stern, don’t worry — everyone gets in.” But if that was true, why did it seem like I wasn't welcome? When I mentioned I was transferring from a community college and that I had attended public high school for a few semesters, the responses from the admissions department became cold, as if I had crossed some invisible line. “Oh, you’re from a community college and a public high school?” “Yes, is that a problem?” I should have known then.
I remember sending in my community college transcript and paperwork, only to receive comments and concerns about whether any credits from my previous college would be counted at Stern due to the “obvious academic differences.” I had never faced outright stereotyping as a community college student aside from a few offhand jokes from a close friend. When the time came for my interview, the interviewer seemed to want to stress how good the Mechina program (which offers support for newcomers to Jewish learning) would be for “someone like me.” I politely declined the offer and stated that the program, although a great opportunity for other girls, would not be the best fit for me. Nevertheless, I received an email asking me to contact the head of the program. When my acceptance letter finally arrived, it wasn’t the complete moment of joy I had hoped for. Instead of a standard offer, I was "provisionally accepted." It felt like a backhanded congratulation — an official way of saying that, in their eyes, I still didn’t belong. Then, I was told to schedule an appointment with the Office of Disability Services. Confused, I brushed it off as some paperwork formality. I was wrong.
When I arrived, the woman in the office seemed confused by my presence. “Why are you here?” she asked, flipping through my file. I explained that I had been instructed to make the appointment. After fumbling through papers, she found the reason. “Oh, you’re from public school,” she said as if she had just read that I was arriving from prison. The look on her face was enough to make me slump in my chair, embarrassed and defeated. On top of that, the Mechina program came up again. I awkwardly smiled and reassured them — again — that despite not attending Bais Yaakov or Maayanot, I was more than capable of textual study. I had been an observant Jew my entire life and studied Talmud with Drisha, Bnot Sinai and on my own as well. After what felt like endless attempts at convincing up to registration day, they finally seemed to understand and allowed me to be a part of the intermediate to advanced Jewish studies courses.
When I got to Stern, I met a friend who was in a similar situation. She had studied at a community college for one semester and didn’t have a formal Jewish education; she was also accepted as a “provisional student.” As we spoke, it became clear that Stern seemed to have an unspoken preference for what could only be described as “purebred” students — those with a pristine background of private schooling and formal Jewish education, entirely removed from the public school system or any nontraditional academic paths. I soon discovered that many students had been dealing with this. One girl I spoke to had the same experience — going to the Office of Disability because she attended public school — and described it as utterly “degrading.” It was as if her public school background was treated as a deficiency, something that needed to be flagged and monitored. She left that office feeling humiliated as if her education up until that point wasn’t valued or even respected. Another student, despite her solid academic record, had been accepted and placed on academic probation. For her, the experience was devastating. She had always excelled in her studies, yet this label made her feel like a complete failure.
Several other girls shared similar experiences, echoing stories that ranged from disapproval from admission faculty to professors assuring them that “there would not be much expected of them.” We had to navigate the additional hurdle of being viewed as “outsiders” in a space that prized students with private Jewish education. Girls who were smart, hard-working and had excelled in their previous academic environments suddenly found themselves labeled as deficient or received extra scrutiny from teachers, simply because they didn’t come from the “right” schools.
Despite everything, I love Stern. It remains my dream school, and I’m thankful for the opportunity to be here. I deeply cherish Jewish learning and the amazing opportunities for young women that Stern provides. Stern has changed my life and so many other young women's lives for the better, and for that, I’m forever grateful. It is because of my love for and belief in the message of Stern College that I write this article in hopes the university will take action to improve how it treats students who come from community colleges or public schools.
First, Stern could acknowledge that differences in educational background are not tantamount to underperformance. Second, Stern could create a department for students from diverse backgrounds that is separate from the Department of Disability in order to avoid the insinuation that such students aren’t trusted to thrive in the same academic or religious environment as those who came from prestigious Jewish schools. Third, professors could benefit from training that equips them to support and engage students from varied educational backgrounds rather than rely on misguided stereotypes about public education. Stern is a special place made for all Jewish women, not just those with the right lineage of private Jewish schooling. By creating a more welcoming atmosphere, we can help those who come from outside that mold feel that they truly belong.
Photo Caption: Stern College For Women
Photo Credit: Yeshiva University
