The college admissions process has never felt more overwhelming. Test-optional policies. Sky-high expectations. Shrinking acceptance rates. Confusing advice about GPAs, extracurriculars, and "standing out." Parents feel anxious. Students feel pressured. Everyone is drowning in mixed messages.

Written for parents of high school students navigating college admissions, Crazy for College book offers clarity, humor, and far less chaos at home. Veteran college admissions advisor Beth Heller Gelles offers an honest, behind-the-scenes look at how the modern college search and application process actually works.

Equal parts memoir, how-to guide, and straight talk, this book helps families:

• lower the temperature at home and protect their relationship with their teen
  
• understand what truly matters in high school (and what doesn't)
  
• decode the transcript vs. GPA conversation
  
• rethink extracurriculars and the myth of the "well-rounded" student
  
• build a balanced, realistic college list
  
• navigate Early Decision, the college essay process, and financial aid

Through real stories from the front lines, Gelles reminds families that they don't have to lose their minds—or their kids—along the way.

With a focus on authenticity, curiosity, mental health, and fit, Crazy for College helps families remember what matters most: raising capable, resilient young adults—and keeping your relationship with your teen intact. Crazy for College is both a lifeline and a love letter, helping you get through the admissions madness with a little humor, a lot more perspective, and family bonds stronger than ever.

The following excerpt—about how she and her partner at Acceptance Ahead, Nancy Stuzin, help counsel parents to get our of the way of their children's uniqueness—comes from Chapter 13: "Unplanned And Unforgettable: Embracing What You Didn’t See Coming." 

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Parents often ask Nancy and me, “How can we make our kid stand out?”

Our answer: “You don’t make it happen. You let it happen.” While this can be hard to hear for families who want to map out their child’s success and help facilitate their path, the truth is that sometimes the best approach is to let kids fall into something life-changing by complete accident. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that some of the most defining moments in life usually aren’t the ones we script. They’re the ones that sneak up on us.  

That was me in the spring of 1985, when I was standing on a stage as the newly elected Girls State Governor of New Jersey. I didn’t plan for it, I didn’t expect it, and I certainly didn’t think it would become my golden ticket to college admissions.  

In June of my junior year, I was selected along with one other girl from J.P. Stevens High School to join 550 promising young leaders from across the state of New Jersey at Rider College (now Rider University). Girls State, run by the American Legion, promised a week-long crash course in local and state government—elections, campaigns, debates, the whole nine yards. Politics semi-intrigued me. I’d spent a year as Student Council Vice President, though my biggest contribution was selling branded school supplies out of the Woodrow Wilson Junior High School student store. 

I often daydreamed about becoming a lawyer, not out of some noble love of justice, but because I had a solid history of winning arguments against my older brother about where our family went to dinner: Friendly’s (my choice) or Burger King (his). Model UN was interesting too, though let’s be real; giving dramatic speeches was way more fun than debating foreign policy. To be honest, I thought Girls State would look good on my college applications and maybe—just maybe—be interesting. 

At first, it wasn’t. It was the first week of summer break, and I stood in a room full of sugary sweet girls, earnestly and endlessly chatting about their hours spent volunteering for their local hospital or church. I felt ridiculously out of place. That first night, I snuck out after “lights out,” and called my mom from the dorm’s pay phone.  

“Mom! Please rescue me,” I begged. 

In her loving but no-nonsense Bronx accent, she firmly advised, “Beth! Give it twenty-four hours and call me tomorrow.”  

As usual, Mom was right.  

HOW I ACCIDENTALLY BECAME GOVERNOR  

Soon, I realized that politics wasn’t just about law-making, budgets, and delivering long speeches. The gist of it was talking to people (something I loved), understanding their needs, and figuring out ways to make things better—a lesson I wish today’s politicians could absorb. Within twenty-four hours, I was intrigued. By midweek, I was all in. I went after every minor position I could get my hands on, from dog catcher to city councilor. Soon, I set my sights on the top spot: Girls State Governor. 

To win, I’d need a platform, and that’s where Professor Purple was born. My party, the Nationalists, was red; the opposing Federalists were blue. I declared myself a symbol of compromise, blending red and blue into purple (still my favorite color). High school teachers and civic leaders volunteering as facilitators led debates and guided us through the workings of state government as we crafted policies and delivered speeches like semi-pros. My platform had three P’s (Performance, Progress, and, well…I can’t remember the third one since it’s been so many decades). Apparently, it was a hit.  

I spent nights having candid conversations with candidates from all sides, diving into debates, and researching until 4 a.m. in the Rider College library, tackling issues like Superfund sites and sanitation (this was New Jersey, after all). At the end of the week, Governor Thomas Kean arrived by helicopter to swear me in after I’d been elected as Girls State Governor. The moment was surreal. 

When Governor Kean walked down the aisle in the auditorium toward me up on the stage (me, in my long Gunne Sax dress with perfectly feathered hair), I was so overwhelmed that I did what my parents had always instructed me to do when greeting someone: I hugged him.  

You can imagine his surprise. The crowd burst into laughter, and I went on to give a speech about civic duty and finding ways to make a difference. My parents were in the audience, undoubtedly relieved and proud that I’d miraculously made it through the week. They even brought a Hebrew Bible for the swearing-in, adding an extra layer of meaning to the ceremony.  

WHAT DOES “STANDING OUT” REALLY MEAN? 

Winning the title of Governor wasn’t about the prestige; it was about the process.  

That week gave me more than a great story for my college applications. Sure, it gave me a fun title to own for a year, but more importantly, it taught me the value of channeling a little chutzpah*, and saying “yes” to the unknown. Girls State taught me that some of the best experiences come when we let go of the plan, push past doubt, and allow ourselves to be surprised. It’s a lesson that I’ve carried into my work as a college counselor.  

*Chutzpah is Yiddish for audacity, nerve, or guts with a dash of flair. Think boldness with heart—the kind that makes your grandma proud.  

SHOT OF SANITY

EVERYONE’S KID IS EXCEPTIONAL IN THEIR OWN WAY 

For most students, standing out doesn’t mean winning national awards. It’s about paying attention to those moments when something grabs their interest, even if it doesn’t fit with who they think they’re supposed to be. 

There was a boy who swore he was going to be a doctor until he spent many evenings skipping bio homework to chat with his grandfather about New York City in the 1940’s. He didn’t mean to veer off course, but listening to those stories was more fascinating than delving into mitochondria. What began as a few conversations with his grandfather turned into digitizing old photos and piecing together an oral history project about the Lower East Side of Manhattan. He’s majoring in history now, something his freshman-year self never would have predicted. 

Or the teen who, stuck at home during quarantine, offered to grocery shop for an elderly neighbor who could no longer drive. What started as a kind gesture turned into regular visits and a friendship that bridged decades. He didn’t set out to build intergenerational bonds; he just followed what felt right. That neighborly act grew into an interest in how communities work, and today he’s studying sociology. 

That’s exactly what colleges love: students who follow where their hearts lead, even if it’s not where they originally meant to go. Plus, these stories, like the students behind them, feel completely real and 100% human.  

KIND OF CRAZY  

The “STANDOUT” FACTOR (Minus the Stress) 

If your kid is gunning for one of those ultra-selective, single-digit acceptance rate schools, then yes, standing out might take something a little extra. These schools aren’t simply looking for strong students; they’re drawn to stories that are unquestionably rare. Like the teen who spoke at City Hall about clean water and ended up being invited to join the local city council, while still in high school. Or the student who volunteered at a local planetarium, created bilingual astronomy shows for neighborhood kids, then joined a summer research program where he helped track the orbit of an asteroid.  

These stories don’t happen every day, and they’re certainly not the norm. But they’re what can happen when an interest takes off and becomes something more. 

That’s the part that parents need to hear more often: those schools are the exception, not the norm. Most colleges aren’t expecting the next Malala Yousafzai or Lin-Manuel Miranda. They want students who have dug into their interests and built something real and personal. And that is truly more than enough. Dayenu.* 

*Dayenu is a Hebrew word that means “it would have been enough.” It’s the refrain of a cherished Passover song that celebrates gratitude for each step of the Israelites’ journey from slavery to freedom. 

THE TAKEAWAY 

What should parents do?  

Help your child notice what excites them even when it doesn’t match the “plan.” Standing out doesn’t require superpowers; it requires self-awareness. Sometimes, what lights them up at fourteen might look entirely different at seventeen. That’s more than okay. It’s normal. The greatest thing you can do is cheer them on as they follow the thread, whether it leads to performing in a school musical for the first time or mentoring younger students in something they love. The right college isn’t looking for perfect kids. They’re looking for real ones. The kind who are inquisitive and gutsy enough to be themselves.  

We once worked with a family whose daughter, Amy, had been laser-focused on science since middle school. She’d spent two summers in a lab pipetting and charting and doing all the things future researchers are “supposed” to do. Everyone assumed Amy would write her ticket to a top program in chemistry. Then, junior year hit, and she managed to land the lead in Mamma Mia! Suddenly, she wasn’t only measuring molecules. She was belting out “Dancing Queen” like a seasoned Broadway actress. For once, Amy was having a blast. Her application became a brilliant blend of sharp analysis and creativity: equal parts periodic table and jazz hands. Admissions officers ate it up. 

Colleges aren’t looking for superheroes. They’re looking for students who seize opportunities and dive in. As I learned at Girls State, some of the best adventures and the best versions of ourselves, emerge when we’re brave enough to go along with it. 

If you’re still wondering how to help your kid stand out, here’s the secret: you don’t. They already do. Nancy and I have worked with hundreds of students over the years, and every single one has something that makes them remarkable. Our job as adults is to give them the freedom to follow it, even when it looks nothing like the plan we imagined. Along the way, let them remind you, again and again, just how exceptional they already are. 

Excerpted from Crazy for College: The Stories, The Secrets, & The Shot of Sanity You Need to Make It Through Admissions, published by Inspired by You Books.

About the Author

Beth Heller Gelles is the co-founder of Acceptance Ahead, a college advising practice based in Westchester, New York. Over the past fourteen years, she has guided nearly 500 families through the admissions process and visited more than 160 college campuses—in all kinds of weather and footwear.

She wrote Crazy for College after watching how quickly smart, loving parents begin to panic once the word college enters the room. Her work keeps the focus where it belongs: on the kid, not the application.

Beth presents and leads conversations for schools, libraries, synagogues, and community organizations across the country. Her talks draw from real stories and focus on lowering the temperature around admissions while protecting the parent–teen relationship.

In addition to her private work, she provides pro bono college counseling for organizations including Yonkers Partners in Education (YPIE) and Grand Street Settlement, supporting students from under-resourced communities.

Beth is a graduate of Harvard College and Northwestern University’s Kellogg School of Management. She serves on the Board of Trustees of Harvard Hillel.

She is also the proud parent of three children who made it through the process with minimal tears—and who have (mostly) forgiven her for briefly turning everyday family moments into potential college essay material.

She lives in Westchester, New York, with her husband and is grateful that college conversations are now mostly optional.