When a friend recently asked me to write a college recommendation for her daughter, I reflected on how the times have changed. The entire college entry process has evolved as more students go to college. When I was preparing to enter college, parents did not take their children on extended weeklong college preview tours. A prospective student might visit a campus or so and meet with admissions officials, but it was not a must do part of college application and entry. There were no websites with lovely pictures and descriptions of campus life, no online catalogues.
All the information was in a paper catalogue. Many high schools, including mine, had a library of recent catalogues that students could peruse. My school did not have a guidance counselor to help students with the process of identifying and selecting the college that would fit their needs. Parents, students and the vice-principal, a nun, worked together to make the college decisions. In all fairness, there were only eighteen students in my graduating class, most knew exactly where they wanted to go to college. The intellectual talent level in my class was quite varied, from those who qualified as National Merit Scholars to girls for whom junior college or finishing school was in their future. I fell into the top part of my class, took the hardest classes and a heavy academic load. Advanced Placement classes were also not yet widespread or offered by my school. I would have taken them, if they had been available.
My parents made my college choice. My future college was preordained. At first, I did not quite realize how preordained it was. In my junior year, like my classmates, I sent away catalogues and reviewed the school’s stash of information. I dreamed of going away to college, having a little agency over my life and being able to be a typical college student. It wasn’t in the cards. My parents had grown wiser than when my older sister was applying to college.
My sister is nine years older than me. She was sent to a prestigious boarding school on the Main Line outside Philadelphia. How this came about is her story not mine, but it impacted me. She took an extra year of high school, so that she could spend more time learning studio art. She was not a strong student, so her college admission was an anxious concern for my parents. It was not where she would go, but rather where she could go. She was finally accepted to the same state university where I would later go. She was a commuter student, a far cry from her boarding school experience. For a long time, she carried an air of resentment about being forced to go to the state college.
Because I skipped a grade and my sister took five years for high school, our nine-year gap shrank. I entered college in 1963 just five years after she graduated in 1959. My parents reasoned that I had done well in high school, did not have special talents (read musical) that would need nurturing in a specialty school, so I could or should just follow my sister’s lead. Mind you, she had spent most of her college years degrading the school, her fellow students and the campus.
The decision was made. I was to go to college where my sister went. An ugly scene ensued – tears and disappointment, but I made a peace with it. I was urged by my parents to apply to two other campuses of the state university; both were in dangerous urban settings. They were to be my backup schools, just in case I did not get into my “first choice.” I dutifully mailed my applications by the deadlines. There was no early admission/acceptance schedule. Most colleges would send out acceptance letters in late winter. By March 15, the college acceptance rodeo was over. College acceptances were sent to my high school, and the nun would proudly read them at our daily assembly – mail call. The letters were also posted on a bulletin board. My first acceptance arrived before the Christmas holidays. It was a matter of just a few weeks before I received notices from all three schools that they would welcome me into their freshman class. I was the first member of my class to receive a college acceptance letter. At the time it felt like a participation or consolation prize. I vowed to make the most of my college career.
Over My Shoulder 