<p>For the second installment in my series of Things Not to do Books, I will soon start on my Things Not to Do When You Help Your Child Apply to College.(Things Not to Do When You Buy a Ranch is still a hot seller, 'round these parts.) </p>
<p>The pratfalls, the Keystone cops and Three Stooges routines D and I have been pulling are beyond comprehension. She will be lucky if she gets into DeVry when we get through. I will not bore you with details but we have sent the wrong packages to coaches, used the wrong address for EA courier mailings to admissions offices, and those are only the ones we'll admit to. </p>
<p>Of seven items sent last week -so far 1 correct item has been delivered to the correct party. One. Numero uno. The schools and coaches are all seemingly sympathetic to her plight and we have had some help screwing this up (hint:don't use the addresses on common app.org) but still, this is a remarkable record of achievement and deserves to be fully chronicled.</p>
<p>I'm increasingly more confident we will turn RD into our version of Lucy and Ethel on the candy line.</p>
<p>So as long as you don't send the one for University X with the cover letter saying, "The only place I will even think of attending is University X", to University Y, and vice versa, it's OK. You have to figure they are all sitting on the other end of our flood of papers thinking OMG please don't let me lose anything critical. Your snafus probably get retold at the admissions staff's dinner tables to loud guffaws....but loud guffaws aren't so bad:).</p>
<p>Hey, I just figured it out! You are positioning D for the sympathy vote!</p>
<p>When you do the candy line remake will you post the iMovie on cc? And will it be you or Mudgette who does the famous Lucy cry?</p>
<p>Cur, I wouldn't worry. After what the adcoms have read about you and mudgerella on this site, I'm sure they all stood by the door on November 1 asking, "Is it here yet?" I'm imagining the scrum as the package, return address "small goat-raising ranch in rural Texas", comes through the mail slot.</p>
<p>Probably the most eagerly awaited application of the century.</p>
<p>Gosh Curmudge, I used to think of you as a model parent; involved, supportive, informative... now I'm not so sure!! Have you considered recusing yourself from the process and hiring a consultant? :)</p>
<p>Wow -- I'm feeling better all the time! Thanks, Cur! I don't think we've sent anything to the wrong place yet! </p>
<p>As of last night, D has one completed application/audition. Hooray! Other apps are in various stages of completion and all other auditions will be in Jan-March. Gotta love this music thing -- as if one set of paperwork and recs was not enough...</p>
<p>I have to say, my very favorite part of this process is trying to predict which D I'm working with -- the one who will violently snap, "Who is supposed to be doing this?!" when I offer a suggestion or the one who wails, "Well, do you think you might give me some help or a suggestion for what to say here?!" I've started smiling more which is annoying D to no end!</p>
<p>Can't wait for the next installment of the L & E show... I need all the humor and stress reduction I can get these days!</p>
<p>I'm going to go out on a limb here and recommend the Nuclear Option: that little online "Submit" button, for the RD round. I'll come over and press the dang thing myself. </p>
<p>Step away from the stapler. Step away from the large manila envelopes. Step away from the address labels. Slowly, now, with your hands where I can see 'em.</p>
<p>We are all just struggling to survive the process. I am probably worse of than some, better off than others. </p>
<p>She has applied to some schools that fit the her that she is now, and hopefully some that will still match her in April. She is changing so quickly. </p>
<p>What is left for her are RD applications to her reachiest schools, both in dollars and in admission chances. I hope she becomes re-invigorated so so she can give them a little special kick right here at the last. She will take a week off except for mop-up duty.</p>
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I'm going to go out on a limb here and recommend the Nuclear Option: that little online "Submit" button, for the RD round. I'll come over and press the dang thing myself.
<p>The secret's revealed. When people say "it's hard to get into college these days" we all thought they were referring to the grueling 18 years of classroom work, athletic competition and volunteerism that kids engage in to become the best possible candidate and gain admittance to the top schools in the land. Now you're telling us it's addressing the envelope that's the hard part. </p>
<p>I love the way you identify the problem and break it down into manageable parts. </p>
<p>Please write a "tell all" book when it's over - and include the picture of Lucy and Ethel.</p>
<p>"I have to say, my very favorite part of this process is trying to predict which D I'm working with -- the one who will violently snap, "Who is supposed to be doing this?!" when I offer a suggestion or the one who wails, "Well, do you think you might give me some help or a suggestion for what to say here?!" I've started smiling more which is annoying D to no end!"</p>
<p>Musicmomic -- Thanks for the smile. I have those twins too! My favorite was when she said, "Why didn't you get on my back about this last week? You can't wait until the last minute to harass me about this stuff."</p>
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Now you're telling us it's addressing the envelope that's the hard part.
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<p>Of course it is! I have an aversion to addressing envelopes and have been known to carry long letters for days without putting them in envelopes. Then there is the actual putting of the letter (in envelope, of course) into the mailbox. What angst! :( I don't think I have sent letters to the wrong people of admission offices, though. The good thing about letters is that they don't come with SEND buttons. I think computers should also come equipped with a REMORSE button that stop the email in its track before reaching the intended recipient.</p>
<p>We found this to be the case with our kids, too, when the application process entered its reality phase. You can read all the websites and books you want, make all the early visits you can schedule, but the real learning process for most 17-year-olds doesn't actually begin to accelerate until it comes down to actual applications, and actual choices. The change you describe, Cur, is good, it indicates a capacity to learn and grow. Furthermore, though many take practice SATs, few do practice applications, and learning how to do a good app is a learning process, too.</p>
<p>This is my main beef with binding early decision. It is set up to provide a real admissions advantage to the early applicant, and in my experience for every one who knows, or thinks he or she knows, exactly where they want to go, there are several scrambling to pick a school prematurely to sieze the early advantage. Marry in haste, repent at leisure (though of course the saving grace is that it's hard to go wrong with so many wonderful choices). To hold 17-year-olds to a psuedo-legal "binding" contract to further your institutional goals is shabby, IMHO.</p>
<p>One thing that surprised me was that when our son was accepted at some really great schools (Harvey Mudd, UChicago, Rice etc) he didn't seem as enthusiastic as we expected. I think he was quite happy with the acceptances, but the reality of actually moving far away to attend one of these was different than reading about them in guide books. We were unable to visit every school to which he applied (although we did see HMC) so maybe that was part of the problem. It was really solved, though, when he got into schools on the east coast -- although some were still airplane distance, at least they were in the same timezone.</p>
<p>Has anyone else found themselves unexpectedly weepy at various points in this whole application process? And, I'm not talking about my D. here, but myself.</p>
<p>It seems like I can't stop looking at her these days, thinking about how much she's changing and how soon she's leaving. It's almost surreal at times.</p>
<p>Last evening she had a local interview with an admissions rep from one of her top choice schools. It was in a hotel conference room and she asked me to wait in the lobby for her. From the lobby, I could see into the room where she was interviewing (glass door) and I couldn't help watching. She looked so animated, so beautiful, so alive. </p>
<p>I could see the person she is turning into the person she will become right before my very eyes. I tell you, it was better than any reality TV show climax. Although, I'm sure all of the folks passing by wondered just what was up with the crazy lady in the lobby who had both a huge smile and tears rolling down her face simulaneously. :)</p>
<p>Oh yeah, Carolyn, but it only gets better. This is what we bred them to do...to go out and become fine adults. It's a definite life passage moment when they leave the nest, just as profound as marriage, childbirth, and the others. Can't believe we're already starting to think about grad schools for my oldest, and planning a spring college tour for my baby. The seasons, they go round and round.</p>
<p>If it makes you feel any better, I almost screwed up D's ED app last year b/c I hadn't read the fine print, i.e., application must be IN the office by the deadline. I thanked my lucky stars that the FedEx facility near the house was open on Saturday!!!</p>
<p>Also, with S's app, I messed up royally shooting the first roll of photos for his visual arts portfolio. Talk about rush printing--twice!</p>