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Better Late Than Never
From the first moment I was in school, my parents talked about me going to college. It was, you might say, an unwritten assumption. After all, they had both attended college (my father was an engineer, while my mother was a teacher.)
So I did not worry about college while I was in high school. It would happen, I knew, when the time came. People (my parents, the guidance counselor, etc.) were looking out for me, as they always had.
My parents each had the notable distinction of being the first in their families' lineage to graduate from college. My father's father worked as a machinist, while my mother's parents were farmers.
We did not know that things had changed since my parents went to college. My father had graduated from Newark Technical School, a forerunner of the Newark College of Engineering (no doubt it has changed its name yet again since my day and age), in 1921: he had attended at night while he was working. So he had probably walked in off the street, registered, and began attending classes on the spot.
Likewise my mother, who attended the state 'Normal School' (Teachers' College -- now SUNY-Cortland) in the next town and graduated in 1928. No doubt she walked in the day before classes were to start and registered.
My parents were also naïve. They had almost no friends socially, and those they had were strange people connected to my father's workplace. So they were not in touch with the parents of my classmates who knew what was what. Those kinds of parents were the sort who would call the guidance counselor and even the principal every other day to find out what the status of their kid was on the College front. They were a pain in the butt, but they didn't care because they knew that the squeaky wheel gets the grease.
All of that is intended to form a backdrop to my little tale. It was December of my senior year in high school. I was sitting in homeroom one morning, half listening to the announcements while I did some last-minute cramming for a test that day. I heard one which said:
"Congratulations to Mark Strauss on his early admission to Dartmouth!"
I had heard those sorts of announcements for the last few days and hadn't thought much about it. But now I was curious. I nudged my friend sitting next to me and asked, "What is that? What does it mean?"
"Oh it means that he got into college early."
"How does one get into college?"
And then my friend said those immortal words that I will never forget:
"You have to do something called 'apply'."
"And how does one apply?"
"You have to have them send you an application."
"How will I know which colleges to apply to?"
"You should go and see Miss Howell -- she'll tell you."
Miss Howell was the Guidance Counselor. Naïve and ignorant though I was, I was able to surmise that my parents weren't the only ones to drop the ball here -- as far as Miss Howell was concerned, I wasn't even on the radar screen.
She gave me the names of three men's colleges to apply to, all of which were in Pennsylvania and not terribly far from our town in New Jersey. They were: Lafayette, Lehigh, and Franklin & Marshall. By comparing notes, I later found out that she recommended those same three colleges to all the boys that she didn't know what else to do with. Likewise for the girls. Miss Howell only knew the names of about eleven colleges or something.
So I wrote away to those three schools and got their applications and then went through the onerous task of filling them out -- with help from my mother. (I remember that she was mystified over how to answer the question "Father's Profession:" I recall being more mystified over the fact that she was mystified!)
We had the applications in the mail by mid-January. By early April I had heard from two of the three schools. Lafayette had put me on their Waiting List, while Franklin & Marshall was making my acceptance contingent upon a personal interview. I did not hear from Lehigh at all that month.
So during April vacation, my mother and I embarked upon a trip down to Pennsylvania to look at those schools -- the sort of odyssey that the Responsible Students had taken a full year before.
Before we left for our college tour, I was able to get a hold of a valuable pamphlet called "Helpful Hints for the College Interview." For once in my life I was going to go into something prepared beforehand!
Unfortunately, this pamphlet was written for the Admissions Person doing the interview. So all it said was: "Browbeat the candidate! Make him realize that you hold his future in your hands, that you have an enormous amount of power over him!"
Luckily, I had the intelligence and the good sense to see this for what it was. And with that bit of insight, I assumed that I had passed the first step of the interview process -- namely, to know that I was the one to be interviewed.
I did get a hold of a pamphlet I wanted and needed. Forty-eight-years later I still recall a part of the first point, and I provide it below; the rest is a logical extrapolation from that.
Helpful Tips for the Student Undergoing a College Interview
1. At the start of the interview, the admissions person might offer you a cigarette. This is not a trap. If the act of smoking puts you at your ease, helping you relax and think better, by all means take one.
a. Things you should say: a modest "Thank you" or "No Thank You" is enough;
b. Things you should avoid saying; Things such as "Thanks -- I would've had a nicotine fit if I had gone much longer without a weed!"; or "What are you trying to do -- kill me off before I even start coming to this dump?"
2. During the course of the interview, the Admissions Person might offer you a stick of chewing gum. This is an inverted trap. They are well aware that [in 1961] the chewing of gum is forbidden in virtually every high school in the country. At the same time, most colleges want enterprising students who are willing to push back against silly petty little rules (as long as they are not their silly petty little rules.) So you must accept the gum! On the other hand, it is the kiss of death if at any point you take the gum from your mouth and stick it under an article of furniture in the room.
3. At the start of the interview, the admissions person may offer you a plug of chewing tobacco. This in itself is not a trap; but you are expected to accept it; and how you deal with the sputum will be a test (there will be no spittoons in the room) to see how enterprising you can be.
a. What not to do: swallow the sputum in the mistaken belief that it makes you look self-effacing, as if you are "taking a hit for a larger good." What it actually does is make you look stupid and without imagination.
b. The sort of thing you can do: shoot a gob of tobacco juice at the beautiful antique Oriental rug of the Admissions Person, and then toss off these words: "The cronies of Andrew Jackson were allowed to do that when he was in the White House; and as he is considered to be one of our best presidents..." This shows, first, that you know your History; and second, that you do not fear to choose the most audacious of solutions -- the kind that is comparable to Cutting the Gordian Knot.
4. At some point the Admissions Person will refer to your "tepid" grades or your "lackluster" recommendations and ask you what "might" account for them. (They will avoid at all costs the word "weak", since they could wind up recommending you for admission, and no college wants to accept what they themselves call a "weak student.") This is a trap: you are not expected to give a purely truthful answer (notice their careful use of the word "might", which gives the candidate license to improvise.)
a. Possible response 1: "I'll level with you because I know that you value honesty. I slacked off for no really good reason, other than that I was busy reading action comics while I was sniffing glue." See how horrible the truth is? The candidate's basic assumption would be wrong here: the college does not cherish honesty so much as it values the illusion of reasonable extra-ordinary circumstances. The answer you gave here would be enough to single-handedly sink your candidacy. If you need to confess, go to Confession.
b. Possible response 2: "I think that I can plead extenuating circumstances if anyone can! When both my parents were killed in an auto accident just before last Christmas, I was left with my seven younger siblings to care for. Needless to say, I had to take on two jobs to support us all and buy the kids' presents, and these ate up all my time and energy." This is what is known as "The Laying It on With a Trowel" excuse. It is so melodramatic and over-the-top that it is easily detected (Christmas always seems to make an appearance in these sorts of excuses; and the number of helpless siblings is invariably seven) and as easily debunked. (If you put your parents' phone numbers down on your application form, your goose is cooked -- unless, that is, your little tale is true! But in that case the Admissions Person will ask a follow-up question: "What do you plan to do with the seven kids while you are away at college?")
c. Possible response 3: "Right after school started last Fall, my parents started having awful fights. My mother would scream at my father all the time, and he would either scream back at her or clam up and stay out late. I couldn't do my work in that house, but every time I asked to go to a friend's house, my mother would accuse me of wanting to desert her too. Actually, I'd rather not talk about it if you don't mind." There you have it -- the perfect excuse in all its crushing banality, an apt description of at least half the families in America! The Admissions Person has not heard it before -- it's too embarrassing a thing to admit (which is why it will work every time.) And there is no way that he would ever call your home to check your tale. ("Pardon me Madam, but could you tell me whether your family is as dysfunctional as your son says it is?") You can then add the knockout punch: "I can't wait to get away from that house and into your college library where I hope I will be able to study in peace and quiet!" At this point the Admissions Person is practically checking the "Recommendation to Admit" box on his form!
5. At some point every interviewer, whether for college or for a job, will ask the following basic question: "What do you think is your greatest weakness?" This is a trap: the Interviewer does not want a direct answer to this question. Do you think that he is sitting there and asking questions in order to find out how weak someone is? That would be a distinct waste of his time: he sees as his job the admission of strong students, not weak ones. Therefore the Candidate must turn the question inside out and give an answer which expresses a strength.
a. Examples of unacceptable responses:
"I tend to gossip instead of studying."
"I have two felony convictions because of my temper."
"I masturbate a lot and I'm not ashamed of it!" (Etc.)
b. Examples of acceptable responses:
The granddaddy of them all: "I tend to work too hard."
"I tend to take notes that are too detailed."
"I tend to place too much trust in authority." (Etc.)
6. There will come a time when the Admissions Person will ask you, "Why did you apply to our school? What was it about us that you found attractive?" This is not a simple question, and it has no one right answer. However, common sense will tell you what sorts of responses the Interviewer is looking for: he wants you to flatter his college! He wants you to tell him how beautiful and verdant his campus is! He wants you to tell him what splendid facilities he has there! He wants you to praise his distinguished and educated faculty! Yes, all these things seem obvious. But is it possible that they are maybe a little bit too obvious, and therefore boring? The Admissions Person has heard all that stuff a million times before. Is it possible to answer this question in a more creative way? We offer the following as a modest proposal in that genre:
Creative Response: "How can I put this as delicately as possible? Let's face it, my grades and recommendations are terrible!" [The student would have used the word "suck", but the word did not exist with that usage in 1961.] "But my guidance counselor gave me a sage piece of advice: 'You Want to Go to College? Fear Not! No matter how bad you are as a student, there is always a college somewhere which is worse (meaning: which will accept you.') He talked about everyone else's Safety Schools being my first choices. And then he said something particularly interesting: 'So that means that your so-called Safety School is going to be pretty much the bottom of the proverbial barrel -- the kind of school which asks you for only two things: your father's checkbook, and proof that you have a pulse -- in that order!'
"Well, I thought long and hard about what he had said: it seemed as though my college future was secure; and I felt good about it for a few days. But something gnawed at me which I could not get rid of, and that was the unabashed and unbridled cynicism of his proposal. It got so I couldn't sleep at night, because I kept asking myself whether this was the future I wanted for myself, of always taking the easy way out. I finally decided that it wasn't. So the next day I marched into that guidance counselor's office and demanded the name of another college. No, not one of those garbage colleges and not even another safety school. What I asked for, and received, and irregardless of my chances of getting in (which I knew were probably nil) was the name of (as I put it) 'One Noble Institution of Higher Learning which can hold its head high in calling itself a True College.' And that school is the one in which we sit at this very moment."
[Note: the candidate was admitted on the basis of that one response (which showed that he had a pulse) -- and his father's checkbook.)
7. When the interview is concluded, the Admissions Person will rise, smile, and shake your hand. (Caution: do not wipe off your hand after you've shaken his.) Once in a great while, that person will ask whether he can kiss you. This is not a test. The candidate should view this the same way as with the offer of a cigarette at the beginning: if it seems like the natural culmination of the interview, a nice way to wind things up, then by all means accept the kiss. On the other hand, if you think that it is not an appropriate gesture at that time and place, you should politely decline. (Caution: you should resist any temptation to kiss the Admissions Person back: it is considered too aggressive. On the other hand, responses like "gross!" or "yuck!" are needlessly hurtful and should be avoided.)
* *
And so, armed with the above information, my mother and I drove first to Easton, Pennsylvania, the site of Lafayette College. It seemed like a decent enough school, although I had nothing to compare it to. I did not have an interview there; and it may well be wondered why I did not request one. The reason should be obvious: I was both shy and ignorant, and as long as the one could mask the other, I was fine. But put me in a position where I was expected to speak in a semi-coherent fashion and all bets were off. So I did not go out of my way to get interviews.
So we left Easton and drove to Lancaster, the site of Franklin & Marshall College. (Why we skipped Bethlehem and Lehigh is a mystery to me even now. Perhaps we assumed that, since we hadn't heard, that it was a hopeless case.) I do not recall anything from the interview at F & M other than that I seemed to acquit myself well enough (I would have remembered any disasters), and I was not offered a cigarette.
And that was it -- my one interview. The final tally was: rejected by Lafayette, and accepted by Lehigh and Franklin & Marshall. Which of those two schools did I wind up accepting and attending -- the one which cared enough to meet me in person and then accepted me on that basis? Or the one that was as silent as the Sphinx right up to the bitter end when they had to make a decision?
Postscript: it was nearly the end of Freshman Week at Lehigh when I asked someone there: "How does someone get into the Glee Club?" He replied: "You have to go through what is called an 'audition'." There was a pause and then he added: "As a matter of fact, today is the last day of auditions!" Some things never change.
(1 February 2009)
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