SOOOOOOOOOOOOo me!
from: http://www.nhregister.com/site/news.cfm?newsid=14228966&BRD=1281&PAG=461&dept_id=517515&rfi=8&xb=topip
College search includes visit to the fair
Jow Amarante
03/27/2005
Email to a friend Printer-friendly
Junior year in high school is when boys realize that the future is fast approaching. That and they shouldn’t make a habit of spitting in social situations.
Many juniors get their driver’s license and - unless their parents are trying to shield them from all of life’s unpleasantness - find that car and insurance costs are painfully high.
Advertisement
Click to learn more...
They have the freedom to drive somewhere in a car but - if they abide by the new state law - can’t drive any friends around for six months. That doesn’t help their social lives, but it might save their lives.
Juniors get increasingly familiar with nasty-sick words and acronyms, such as "GPA," "PSAT," "SAT," "college," "future," "admissions," "major," and "tuition." Ouch on that one.
Some juniors have already visited colleges across the country and met with coaches and officials there.
Yeah. I was not that organized. I never even visited a college back then. I don’t recall any college fairs; there were no Internet searches.
I was pretty clueless, although I do recall thinking that I might be screwed if President Nixon’s quest for "peace with honor" in Vietnam took another few years.
I chose to study journalism because my J-teacher in high school, Pat Whalen, was a no-nonsense guy who made the mistake of encouraging me. I heard the University of New Haven had an associate’s degree in journalism, so I wouldn’t be committing to four years or leaving my girlfriend behind. End of deliberations.
Today’s young achievers spend their formative years studying SAT manuals and courses, building resumes and strategizing with parents and counselors on how to get into a top school. They even have a master’s degree and Ph.D. planned.
Last week, I went to a college fair in Hartford with my son, who (thanks to his mother and oldest sister) is further along the road to post-high school than I was in 1972. I don’t mean he’s well-organized, but at least he has begun to think about it.
We pulled up to the Connecticut Expo Center and couldn’t find a parking space. "Well, there goes your college career; we’re goin’ home," I said as I exited the main lot. But we spotted an adjacent lot.
"I think this is the Meadows lot where Tina got her car stereo stolen," I said, pulling next to a pile of roadside debris.
My son, who had just come from a running-filled baseball practice, was struggling to compose himself and look presentable to the college reps - or to the females in attendance.
After recently putting two older children through college, I was looking in my wallet for stray bills in case there was an admission charge. ("We may have to sneak in," I said. "Mom sent us here; failure is not an option.")
My wife went to the college fairs with my first two kids, since I had spent hours kvetching to her about the arbitrary nature of the search:
"You go nuts trying to find a college based on a set of parameters that can completely change in a year! The kid chooses business now but switches to liberal arts later. And then where are you? Stuck at Bentley with Red Sox fans and a huge bill...
"The kid could be attacked at school," I would say in a Woody Allen voice. "People meet their future spouses at college..."
So I’m typically only called in for the college-visit portion of the saga because I like to travel.
But last week, I’m at the exhibition hall with booths from colleges across the nation and world (University of Aberdeen?) It’s a little overwhelming. We began to wander up to colleges with interesting names - Marist, Merrimack, LeMoyne - and drop the colorful brochures into a plastic bag.
I try to focus and search a booth’s poster for majors involving science, while making small talk with the reps. ("So I said to him, ‘To make money, you have to major in money. You’ll never get rich like Peyton Patterson by majoring in English...’")
Dan finds his dream school in the Florida Institute of Technology, which offers majors in astronomy, aeronautical science, aviation, meteorology and space science. The rep says we’ll need pre-calc, a 1,200 on the SATs and a 3.5 GPA. I pretend that’s no problem. "So what division is your baseball team?" I ask. We walk out exhausted. "Let’s get our stories straight," I say. "This was a wonderful evening for you..."
Look at the bold and big and red part. It perfectly describes me. How did this happen?
P.S. Happy Easter!
College search includes visit to the fair
Jow Amarante
03/27/2005
Email to a friend Printer-friendly
Junior year in high school is when boys realize that the future is fast approaching. That and they shouldn’t make a habit of spitting in social situations.
Many juniors get their driver’s license and - unless their parents are trying to shield them from all of life’s unpleasantness - find that car and insurance costs are painfully high.
Advertisement
Click to learn more...
They have the freedom to drive somewhere in a car but - if they abide by the new state law - can’t drive any friends around for six months. That doesn’t help their social lives, but it might save their lives.
Juniors get increasingly familiar with nasty-sick words and acronyms, such as "GPA," "PSAT," "SAT," "college," "future," "admissions," "major," and "tuition." Ouch on that one.
Some juniors have already visited colleges across the country and met with coaches and officials there.
Yeah. I was not that organized. I never even visited a college back then. I don’t recall any college fairs; there were no Internet searches.
I was pretty clueless, although I do recall thinking that I might be screwed if President Nixon’s quest for "peace with honor" in Vietnam took another few years.
I chose to study journalism because my J-teacher in high school, Pat Whalen, was a no-nonsense guy who made the mistake of encouraging me. I heard the University of New Haven had an associate’s degree in journalism, so I wouldn’t be committing to four years or leaving my girlfriend behind. End of deliberations.
Today’s young achievers spend their formative years studying SAT manuals and courses, building resumes and strategizing with parents and counselors on how to get into a top school. They even have a master’s degree and Ph.D. planned.
Last week, I went to a college fair in Hartford with my son, who (thanks to his mother and oldest sister) is further along the road to post-high school than I was in 1972. I don’t mean he’s well-organized, but at least he has begun to think about it.
We pulled up to the Connecticut Expo Center and couldn’t find a parking space. "Well, there goes your college career; we’re goin’ home," I said as I exited the main lot. But we spotted an adjacent lot.
"I think this is the Meadows lot where Tina got her car stereo stolen," I said, pulling next to a pile of roadside debris.
My son, who had just come from a running-filled baseball practice, was struggling to compose himself and look presentable to the college reps - or to the females in attendance.
After recently putting two older children through college, I was looking in my wallet for stray bills in case there was an admission charge. ("We may have to sneak in," I said. "Mom sent us here; failure is not an option.")
My wife went to the college fairs with my first two kids, since I had spent hours kvetching to her about the arbitrary nature of the search:
"You go nuts trying to find a college based on a set of parameters that can completely change in a year! The kid chooses business now but switches to liberal arts later. And then where are you? Stuck at Bentley with Red Sox fans and a huge bill...
"The kid could be attacked at school," I would say in a Woody Allen voice. "People meet their future spouses at college..."
So I’m typically only called in for the college-visit portion of the saga because I like to travel.
But last week, I’m at the exhibition hall with booths from colleges across the nation and world (University of Aberdeen?) It’s a little overwhelming. We began to wander up to colleges with interesting names - Marist, Merrimack, LeMoyne - and drop the colorful brochures into a plastic bag.
I try to focus and search a booth’s poster for majors involving science, while making small talk with the reps. ("So I said to him, ‘To make money, you have to major in money. You’ll never get rich like Peyton Patterson by majoring in English...’")
Dan finds his dream school in the Florida Institute of Technology, which offers majors in astronomy, aeronautical science, aviation, meteorology and space science. The rep says we’ll need pre-calc, a 1,200 on the SATs and a 3.5 GPA. I pretend that’s no problem. "So what division is your baseball team?" I ask. We walk out exhausted. "Let’s get our stories straight," I say. "This was a wonderful evening for you..."
Look at the bold and big and red part. It perfectly describes me. How did this happen?
P.S. Happy Easter!