My Applications
Yes, I went to Harvard. No, I didn't have to hack my way in. (Although I'll admit, sometimes I was tempted to hack my way out . . .)
I've now been out of college longer that I was ever in it (scary!), but I still remember the applications process with fondness.
Um, make that fondness mixed with horror.
Most evidence of that era went straight into the trash, but I did manage to scavenge a few artifacts from the archives (aka my parent's basement). (Click on the images to make them big enough to read.)
The book I read about a hundred times. (And sadly, this is not an exaggeration.) |
An email from my mother suggesting
"appropriate" questions to ask at my
first college interview. Note her 'creative' spelling. |
The Essay. Submitted to every school (against the advice of all those books suggesting you tailor your essay to the application). My mother was forbidden from reading it...she read it anyway. (And, as I recall, was vaguely displeased by what she found.)
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Obsessive hieroglyphics in an
attempt to figure out what
classes I would take freshman
year. |
More obsessing. |
The first ever visit to Harvard. If the shot were closer, you'd see the frown on my face. Maybe because it was April...and snowing. |
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My first map of Harvard. I used it for all four years. Because I have no sense of direction. |
My first official acceptance letter. |
I'm the first to defend Harvard against accusations of pretentiousness. But I have to admit, there's nothing more pretentious than the admissions packet, which comes complete with "a certificate suitable for framing."
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