College or bust. Forget football, forget rugby. In the town where I live, the college admissions process is more competitive than any contact sport. This blog chronicles the process.

Wednesday, February 28, 2007

When or If?

Last night at dinner A and his Dad got into an animated conversation about some physics problem. Terms like "vertex" and "momentum" and "friction" were bandied about, along with strings of equations that, of course, we all should know. I made no attempt to feign interest. Once it was determined that the rotation of the ball bearing in question is what led to its energy loss, I suggested we pass the potatoes and move on to other topics. Preferably in English. This is when Dad leans back in his chair and waxes on about MIT in general, his physics classes in particular, and reminisces about just how hard it was.

To which A responds: "Believe me, when I go to MIT I'm going with my tail between my legs." He quickly corrects himself and restates: "If I go to MIT." It was an interesting slip. We'll know soon enough if it was prescient.

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Friday, February 16, 2007

Four, Six, Eight Weeks and Counting?

 2/16/07

It’s incredible to me that not much more than one month from now we will begin to hear from schools. I deeply hope that the first response is a “yes,” from wherever. If “no’s” come in first I don’t know that I’ll be able to take the pressure. I don’t remember feeling anything like this anxiety when it came to my own college application experience. Maybe what I’m feeling is a result of too much “helicopter” parenting—trying to oversee too much of his life and forgetting that it is, in fact, his life. His life, his anxiety, not mine, right? Somehow this thought doesn’t calm me down. I guess I’ve been in hover mode so long I’ve forgotten how to land.

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Competition at Every Turn

2/16/07

A’s final interview yesterday, for Brown. They met at Peet’s Coffee in Newton Centre. On his way in he ran into another blue-blazer clad classmate en route to his Princeton interview. The competition, literally, is around every corner.
As for the interview, who knows? A is relaxed about it all now. We both have a “throw our hands up in the air” attitude. What else can he do?
The woman who interviewed him was about my age, mid forties. A liked her, though worries that he lost an opportunity to give a good answer. When she asked how he spent his last summer, he blanked. All he could think of was the MIT paradox class. Ideally, he would have told her about studying for his A+ exam. But wait, he can mention that in his thank you note to her. In fact, it will make the note that much better. I send A an email saying just this. He is such a patient kid, and I know I am over-controlling and annoying. May this be one of my last e-mail "suggestions."

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Princeton Positive

2/4

Princeton interview. Happy to have A's father drive him to the Newton Public Library, where the interview is to be held. Things seem to go better when I’m not there supercharging the air particles around the poor boy. He left in his button down shirt and blue Brooks Brothers blazer and I must say he cleans up rather well. They returned home later than I expected, and I assumed he and dad had gone for a coffee afterward. No such thing. Turns out the interview was a full hour. Was that good? A came back in high spirits. “It’s the best interview I’ve had,” he said. And I could tell by his gait and the tone of his voice that he meant it. He might even have had fun, which is always a sign of a good interview. If nothing else, all of these interviews are great experience for him, if not for me.

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Two terms down, none to go.

 1/31

End of term two. Phwew. Done. The last set of grades sent to colleges. A’s grades even better than last term: all As with one A-minus in Honors English. I’ll take it. Let's hope the schools will.

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To Be Interview or Not to be Interviewed--is that the question?

2/12

On the phone with T today we review the latest news. Her son hasn’t been invited for a Brown interview, A has. Does this mean anything? She makes the leap (as I would) that this means that her son is already in the “denied” pile. More realistically, I suspect, it means that the interviewer assigned to him simply dropped the ball. Or does it? On the one hand, I want to believe this. On the other, these schools can’t possibly interview all 20,000-whatever candidates that apply. Can they? Again, another big unknown. It might mean something, it might not.

 

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Magic in Minutia?

2/11

I am hoping for magic in the minutia. Today A received a large envelope from Carnegie Mellon. A good sign, yes? We like large envelopes. Inside was a glossy, multi-page sales pitch for the college. Odd, I thought, because clearly they are aware that their application deadline has passed. Then, it hits me. Could this be the beginning of the courting ritual? Is this their way of saying that A has been admitted, even though they can’t officially let him know? I don’t say a word of this to A, but ask my husband—rational and sensible man that he is—what he thinks. He thinks it’s marketing, nothing more. Nothing more? I press. He gives me the stern “don’t go there” look. Nothing more. Sigh.

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