The Alumni Interview

Svalbard, one of the only places Norway colonized. Note the closeness to the North Pole.

 

Once I entered the Friends Seminary, every muscle relaxed. The space was warm and cozy, with canary yellow walls dotted with children's art. Big signs that said OBERLIN! led the way to a lounge, filled with anxious students, parents, and a few admissions folks.

Even after a few minutes to thaw, I still couldn't feel my feet. Gingerly, I asked one of the admissions folks, "How cold is it in Ohio?"

"Well," she said, "it's not worse than this."

"Oh," I sighed. "Svalbard," my toes whispered.

"Would you like some coffee?" she asked.

"Yes," I replied. Cream. Splenda. Stir.

When the official alum talked to someone else, I scoped out the waiting room. As I'd dressed for the cold, I hadn't really thought to dress shmancy. I was wearing a nice tee-shirt, but also my normal goth pants. And green military boots. Happily, most of the other applicants didn't look too fancy: nice and casual, without being very preppy.

Generally, the college waiting rooms unnerved me. Like an actor at a casting call, I would look around, wondering how good my competition was, continuously aware that said competition might become castmates. Must be friendly, but not too friendly.

But this time, I felt more relaxed. The boy next to me was reading Zadie Smith. The girl across from me was studying for AP Chem--I recognized the textbook.

"What unit are you on?" I asked.

She grinned ruefully, "Everything, technically. We're doing a practice AP on Tuesday."

"Shit," the boy said, looking up from his book. "That's awful."

We all started talking and didn't stop until we each got called for our respective interviews.

 

My interviewer was Peter, an alum who worked in the restaurant business. He smiled easily.

For the first time, after about 12 interviews, this was actually a conversation. For the first twenty minutes, we talked about cooking. And dining. And music. And why people do foolish things. He was a fascinating guy--completely self-effacing, funny, and snarky. Strangely enough, he actually seemed to think that I was interesting too.

We joked about building a time machine... to create time. Just more and more of it. In little sugar packets you could drop into tea or coffee, so your day would stretch out more and more, until all the time-sugar was gone. Also, a music-language scrambler, so that all pop music would sound like Cirque du Soleil soundtracks.

Though I still minded my p's and q's, I didn't feel like he was judging me. He didn't take notes. He didn't ask for my GPA. We were just chatting. Even though we sat in tiny plastic desk-chairs, made for 7 year olds, I felt incredibly at ease. When Peter described Oberlin, it sounded like a painter talking about his favorite work. While it wasn't the most precise photo, the spirit was there exactly.

He even pronounced my last name correctly.

"Was that everything you wanted it to be?" he said, mostly seriously.

"Yeah," I said. "I didn't realize I had a say."

When I got back to the waiting room, I high-fived my mom, who was talking to Chemistry Girl's father. When we left, it felt a lot warmer out.

---

Notes:

* As mushy as this is, my parents were huge forces in my college search. If my Mom loathed a school, I probably didn't want to go. If my Dad was hopeful, then I was hopeful. As Mom's an immigrant, the whole process was literally foreign to her. Dad never finished college, so picking a good school seemed even more important. We all learned about the crazy process together.

Also, I'm an only child. If I didn't succeed, who would?

* Illustrious College is a liberal arts college located in Genosha. Its graduates win Watson, Fulbright, and Rhodes Scholarships, they have an excellent politics department and a history of winning armed conflicts. Sadly, I was waitlisted at Genosha.