Jessai Flores

Every Yale admit has a story. Maybe you were casually scrolling through your phone when the notification popped up, or perhaps you were in the middle of a crowded subway, at a family dinner or even halfway across the world when you saw the words: “Welcome to Yale!” Some of us opened our letter with shaking hands, surrounded by friends and family. Others were alone, not expecting much, only to have their world flipped upside down in an instant.

For some, the moment was quiet until Handsome Dan — our beloved singing bulldog — appeared on screen, leading to the stunned, breathless realization that years of hard work had paid off. For others, it was pure chaos: screams, tears and frantic phone calls to loved ones. And then, there were the stories that no one could have planned — the ones involving wrong passwords, accidental reveals, or surreal twists of fate that made the moment even more unforgettable.

With the regular decision day welcoming the Class of 2029 on Thursday, March 27, the WKND desk has decided to share the unique, hilarious, emotional and downright unexpected ways students found out they were in. Because getting into Yale isn’t just about an acceptance letter — it’s about the moment that changes everything.

Baala Shakya

Dec. 14, 2023, was always going to be memorable for me. 

The last thing I saw before I clicked on the Yale Admissions portal was, quite frankly, HRH Queen Elizabeth II.

For the past seven years, “The Crown” had been a constant in my life. I had watched Claire Foy’s depiction of young Elizabeth stiffen under the weight of duty and seen Olivia Colman’s weary monarch struggle to reconcile power with personhood. Now, with Imelda Staunton, I was witnessing the end. The final six episodes had premiered that morning, and so I let history swallow me whole, forgetting momentarily that it was Decision Day.

I watched Diana’s death send shockwaves through the monarchy; watched Charles finally step into the role he had spent a lifetime waiting for; watched Queen Elizabeth reckon with the one force she had never been able to command — change. The episode count ticked down, bringing both “The Crown” and my illusion of calm to their inevitable conclusions. Then came the final episode.

As the Queen walked through the halls of Buckingham Palace for the last time, she faced the ghosts of her past — her younger selves, the woman she used to be. “It is not my job to be liked. It is my job to do the things that people will not like.” She had done them. She had upheld tradition and made impossible choices, and now, in the end, she was left alone to reckon with it all.

The credits rolled. I sat motionless. Then, I checked the time. 6:06 p.m… Oh no.

Decisions had been out for six minutes. And for the first time all day, real fear settled in.

Tangled in a Yale sweatshirt I pulled on for luck, I ran to my laptop, opened the portal and gasped. My hands flew to my mouth. Welcome Yale Class of 2028.

Queen Elizabeth II had spent her final days looking back on a life already written. Now, I was standing at the threshold of mine — swapping royal corgis for singing bulldogs. 

Siena Valdivia

The sun beat down on my back as I adjusted my Blenders and wiped the sweat off my forehead with my jersey. I dug my feet into the sand, signaling to my partner where to serve. In the heat of my beach volleyball match, Yale was the last thing on my mind.

We won. But in high school, three out of five varsity teams had to win for an overall victory. As one of the top seeds, my match was over first, so I cheered from the sidelines, coaching my friends during timeouts. “Let’s go, CCA!” I shouted with my friend Kai, mimicking her iconic chant. Hours later, the results were in — four out of five wins. Victory.

As we walked to the car, my teammates checked their portals. I held off, standing on the blacktop beside the sand courts.

I saved the best for last. I opened it on my phone. I clicked.

A dark screen.

Blue confetti in the background.

I didn’t even see the dancing bulldog video harmonizing our fight song in the background until later in the car. I gasped, “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh.” My dad laughed, “I knew it!”

I couldn’t stop “oh-my-goshing” until a friend’s grandma approached and asked, “What’s the good news?”

“I got into Yale!!!”

Liam Hughes

It was the last day of school before winter break, Yale early acceptances had been out for 15 minutes and I was stuck watching eighth graders play “Jingle Bells.” 

I had recently organized an initiative at my school where student musicians could perform during lunchtimes. However, one week I hadn’t shown up to the performance, and afterwards my school’s particularly strict music director called me into his office to reprimand me for that. So, I made sure to be there this time. 

As the students reached the chorus — for what felt like the hundredth time — my mind drifted to the admissions announcement that was waiting for me. I kept eyeing the exit and sliding a seat closer to it every few seconds, but I could feel the music director side-eyeing me from the back of the theatre. 

“Jingle Bells” was starting to feel like it would never end and my phone was buzzing with messages from people hoping to hear about my fate — I couldn’t do this anymore. As soon as the band director turned to say something to his colleague, I clambered over the seats and darted out of the theatre. 

I found a quiet corner, opened my laptop and braced myself. 

“This could be the start of the rest of your life… but Yale isn’t everything.” 

I wavered between those two mantras as the portal loaded. 

When it finally opened, I was greeted with … spinning bulldogs? A “Bow wow wow” chant? 

I rewatched the video three times in total confusion before the Congratulations! flashing in the centre of the screen finally registered with me. A wave of overwhelming emotions crashed over me, but before I could fully process them, the school bell rang and snapped me back to reality. Yale could wait. Right now, I had a Christmas concert to get back to … and likely another stern talking-to from the band teacher waiting for me. 

Steffi Khine

I spent the day at my friend’s house playing Super Smash Bros, just trying to make the hours pass faster. We were all waiting anxiously for Ivy decisions, unsure of how else to kill time. When the clock hit 6:00 p.m., I took the train home, arriving around 6:45. I set up in the dining room, my laptop in front of me, heart pounding. I told my mom not to sit next to me — I couldn’t bear to see her reaction if I didn’t get in anywhere. My sister, on the other hand, plopped down beside me. I didn’t have the heart to kick her out; she was just as excited as I was. Looking back, I’m a little annoyed — she never listens to me.

Then, 7:00 p.m. Ivy Day.

I checked Cornell first — waitlisted. Okay. It’s fine. I can totally take out loans for other colleges I had already gotten into. For me, the draw of the Ivies wasn’t just their academics — it was the financial aid, too. 

I used a spin-the-wheel tool because I couldn’t decide what to open next. Spin. Yale.

The portal took forever to load. My hands were shaking.

Black screen. A glitch?

Wait — no. A video?

Suddenly, Bulldogs. They erupted across my screen.

I erupted.

Tears. Laughter. “Congratulations.”

Class of 2028.