It has been 3 years since I last set foot on my undergrad campus. And that was because I had to stop at the office of disciplinary action to get a record of the disciplinary action taken against me. Had it not been for that, we would be around seven years. Of course, I blame law school for that shit. But regardless, I got to thinking, through an alcohol induced haze (which reminded me of undergrad), what stories I had, and which I did not remember. This series will be about the stories I remember, and hopefully, in the order in which they occurred.
Today, Acceptance
I grew up in the suburbs of Chicago. When you do that, one thing is clear, You are going to the University of Illinois. Or at least, that is what your parents want you to do. In-State tuition is fucking cheap! As it were, I had two older sisters, neither of whom went to U of I. They certainly were smart enough, one went to DePaul and the other decided that Jesus reigned supreme and went to some crazy God school in the middle of nowhere. So through my trail-blazing sisters, I knew that UofI was not the only option. In fact, one could venture in the scary urbaneness of the Chicago, or even into the middle of farm country! (ok, so technically, my house was across the street from a farm growing up, until suburbia exploded in the mid-90s, but still, Possibilities!)
As my graduation date loomed near, I looked over my right shoulder and saw the Oldest Twin off at DePaul, a private school, and over my left shoulder I saw my youngest older sister at North Central College, a private school (having since given up the dream of "Crazy Religious Schools are the Place to Be!). It was time for me to make a decision.
I understand the benefits of the in-state school. Surely when I have kids, that is where I want them to go. But I am not them. I wanted to get as far away as possible. Well, as far as possible without going to a crazy Jesus school.
Sadly, I know what exactly drew me to Miami University. They sent me a big huge package of shit. And, they were in Ohio. I figured, if they are gonna send me all this shit (postage must have been at least $0.72!) they would not reject me. And they were in Ohio.
I do not think it is necessary to justify why I wanted to be 5 hours away, other than that my mom was on the fence about me being that far away. I was 18. I wanted to be out in the world. I thought I could be somebody who was cool. I was proven wrong in with respect to the latter, but essentially, it came down to a choice of where I would be uncool at, UofI or Miami.
In classic self-loathing, repressed teenage, get off my back dad, form, I threw my Uof I essay. Threw it like one would throw a basketball game for the benefit of gamblers. My essay was good, don't get me wrong, I am pretty sure I used the same one for my Miami application. But there was one key difference.
Ok, two key differences.
First, I hand wrote my UofI exam. On the back of the application, there was and a third of a page blank space for an essay, which I guess they assumed people still had typewriters back in 1999 (they may have been right), but I crammed my essay into that space with handwriting a third grader would not be jealous of.
And I applied to the School of Engineering. Which you have to be smart to get into. Sure I had an ACT of 29 and a weighted GPA of 5.05/5 but I knew that would not be good enough. I did not even want to be engineer.
But that did not stop me from applying to the Paper Science Engineering program at Miami. That shit was begging for students. (long aside: I did the whole, sleep in a dorm room and your mom sleeps in another dorm room Fun Crazy-type weekend at Miami. This was after we stopped at the campus on the way back from New Jersey and when I fell in love with the campus. On the way to this sleepover, driving into Oxford from the Chicago area, was the first and last time I have ever actually nodded off behind the wheel. That will scare the shit out of you. Driving along, close your eyes . . . . . open them and you are a quarter of a mile down the road. Those rumble strips are effective. Nonetheless, I still feel bad about that. And hence, no sleeping behind the wheel since then. Anyway, that whole sleepover thing, I heard stories about people going out and getting smashed, and whatever, while I was back in my room at 11 pm. My quasi roommate came back around 3, but he was Black, so I just assumed that he was cool and people wanted to hang out with him. Nobody liked my white ass, and I sure as shit did not know anyone in bumfuck Ohio, so you might think that whole experience soured me on Miami. For some reason, it didn't. Probably because my mind was already made up).
So yeah, applied in a major I was sure to be rejected in at UofI and applied to a major I was sure to be accepted in at Miami. That is the recipe for success. Assuming you eventually change your major, don't graduate during an Accounting recession and go to law school, graduating at the top of your class just before the bottom falls out of the legal market.
Coming soon, Part 2, Orientation and Swing Dancing
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