I am happy to report that I did successfully finish my online classes, so my graduation from high school is no longer under direct threat (refer to previous post if that sentence made no sense to you). I imagine it will be liberating to no longer have to worry about such things, since I have been doing online classes for the last four years. What will I do with the extra time? Frankly, I have no idea. But I'll come up with something pretty quickly, I'm sure. Just you wait.
In the meantime, the gap left by online classes will be filled with studying for AP tests. There's always something else, isn't there? Another three weeks and things should let up; then we'll be into movie-watching season (last year in calculus we watched all of the extended editions of the Lord of the Rings trilogy after the AP test was over).
But enough of that; on to something that relates to the title of the post!
Now that I know I won't be moving off to Hogwarts--um, I mean, Harvard in the fall, I need to secure housing arrangements at my mid-range school. It all started with finding a room, a process described in several emails I had received from the university. I knew how this was going to work. I logged on to the housing portal at the time and on the day that I was instructed (this was with priority status, mind you) only to find that there were a whopping zero beds available in on-campus housing. None.
Well, that isn't entirely true. There were a few beds available in the sardine-can dormitories where students are required to purchase a meal plan, but zero in the apartments with kitchens (that's where I wanted to live). My reasoning for not wanting a meal plan is simple enough: it costs about twice as much as actual groceries cost, and I don't want to put my hard-earned scholarship money into cafeteria food. So essentially I had the makings of a very serious problem on my hands.
Fortunately for me, the university in question told me when cancellations in the desired facility would be posted so that I could switch into one.
The chase was on.
So there I sat, staring at the computer screen moments before the clocks struck four. As soon as the counter reached 3:59.59, I refreshed the page and saw that the number zero had changed to six. Not a lot of real estate for the hundreds of students who wanted a slot (and likely dozens who were sitting there hoping to catch one), but at least it wasn't zero. I frantically clicked through the first one I could find--only to receive an error that the bed was taken. That was within the first three seconds.
I backed up and clicked on another, and this time it worked. I had a room. The other four were gone within another ten seconds. I count myself lucky to have gotten one, but I want to make it known that I owe my victory entirely to my years of "sniping" classic Lego sets on eBay in the final five seconds of the auction. Fear my nerd powers.
This is far from the end of the road. I may have escaped the overly expensive meal plan, but my new room was on the first floor of the building, and I would much rather have a higher floor to reduce the amount of noise coming from above. I have a chance now, though, and before this I had none. Now that I have a space in the proper building, I can hopefully trade with someone on a higher floor, which should be a much less stressful process than the adrenaline-pumping escapade of getting a room in the first place. Until then, I have more high school to attend to. Those AP exams aren't getting any farther away.
Hic Manebimus Optime!
...It goes on.
Thursday, April 14, 2016
Thursday, April 7, 2016
One Week Later
It has been seven days since I received my rejection letters. I seem to be holding up okay, or at least as well as I expected. The fact is, I haven't been able to worry too much about college-related things recently because I am faced with a serious threat to my graduation from high school, and in my mind closer deadline = more important.
So what is this threat to my graduation? It's not grades, citizenship, attendance, unpaid fees or anything else that would normally put someone in this position.
It's online classes.
I know, not very interesting. But unfortunately in order to take the electives I wanted (and which would bolster an application to, say, an Ivy League school, but you know how that turned out), I have had to take multiple classes online throughout high school. Most of them I finished with no problems, but those aforesaid applications consumed enough time that I neglected them this year, and now I must have them finished by April 15 in order to graduate. I at least feel that I have company in this because incidentally, millions of people fear this day, albeit for entirely different reasons.
So here I am, slogging through the last two quarters of Health and Fitness For Life, both of which seem to be unapologetic reruns of classes I had to take in junior high. For something so boring, they sure seem to be able to pack in a disproportionate amount of busywork. Honestly, an entire unit on fat? Really?
Next week I will be able to say whether or not I actually finished (I will finish, it just won't be fun), but to distract myself momentarily I prepared a list of the top ten most interesting things I did in the week following my rejection. This is what I did:
Hic Manebimus Optime!
So what is this threat to my graduation? It's not grades, citizenship, attendance, unpaid fees or anything else that would normally put someone in this position.
It's online classes.
I know, not very interesting. But unfortunately in order to take the electives I wanted (and which would bolster an application to, say, an Ivy League school, but you know how that turned out), I have had to take multiple classes online throughout high school. Most of them I finished with no problems, but those aforesaid applications consumed enough time that I neglected them this year, and now I must have them finished by April 15 in order to graduate. I at least feel that I have company in this because incidentally, millions of people fear this day, albeit for entirely different reasons.
So here I am, slogging through the last two quarters of Health and Fitness For Life, both of which seem to be unapologetic reruns of classes I had to take in junior high. For something so boring, they sure seem to be able to pack in a disproportionate amount of busywork. Honestly, an entire unit on fat? Really?
Next week I will be able to say whether or not I actually finished (I will finish, it just won't be fun), but to distract myself momentarily I prepared a list of the top ten most interesting things I did in the week following my rejection. This is what I did:
- Started writing my second book (I'm taking a temporary break from editing the first)
- Got the class high score on a test in AP Stats (I'm proud of this one because I'm in a class with That One Guy who wrecks the curve)
- Visited my grandparents for my granddad's birthday (always nice)
- Built an awesome blanket fort (no really, this entails lashing PVC frames together with rope. I'll do a post on it later to prove it.)
- Got an extra hour of sleep on Saturday because I no longer have to get up early for swim practice
- Lost that hour when I had to stay up late doing AP Government homework on Monday
- Found myself tangled in a huge housing mess with my mid-range school (things are looking better, I'll probably also talk about this later)
- Wore my Harvard t-shirt on April Fool's day (the day after admissions decisions--people fell for it, too)
- Successfully got a 16-bit computer game from 1999 running in Windows 8.1 on the new computer (you do not understand how much work it took to save Lego Rock Raiders.)
- Watched the Rogue One trailer at least eleven times within two hours of it coming out.
Hic Manebimus Optime!
Thursday, March 31, 2016
Introduction: The Beginning, or the End?
On March 31st, 2016, my dreams were crushed by a simple sentence:
"The Committee on Admissions has completed its Regular Decision meetings, and I am very sorry to inform you that we cannot offer you admission to the Class of 2020."
I received three messages containing this sentence, with minor variations. So I could be calling this "My Life as a Harvard, Yale and Columbia Reject," but why rub it in more than I need to? The point is, I didn't quite make it. It's hard when there are upwards of 30,000 perfectly qualified applicants and 1,600 spots, so I knew the odds weren't great to begin with. In fact, I applied Early Action and was deferred, making the process an arduous six-month wait before finally getting the bad news.
If you were one of the 464 students who were flat-out rejected during the Early Action phase, you have my sympathies. That hurts. But, in a way, I envy you; the Band-Aid got torn off back in December, and you got to move on to other things, unlike the 4,673 of us who were deferred. Out of those, a lucky few got in during the Regular Decision phase. To those who didn't, I have something to say: Welcome to the Insult to Injury club. We are an elite 10% of the total applicants, and we each endured the longest possible wait before finally being put out of our misery--or into misery, I suppose, since we now need to find somewhere else to go to school.
Yale's letter even said "I hope the replies you receive from other colleges this spring will soon erase any disappointment regarding Yale's decision." Ouch. Normally that'd be a nice thing to hear, but not when the only other responses you got were also rejections.
I'm not bitter in any way toward the institutions that denied my admission. Statistically, the vast majority of applicants wind up like me. Was I sad? Definitely. Did I cry a little?
Maybe.
I'll never experience the 'round-the-clock availability of unlimited pancakes and Jamba Juice at Columbia, Yale's unlimited free 3D printing or, well... Harvard. But it's time to dust myself off and get on with it. The fact is, with all three of my reach schools out of the question, I'm down to my mid-range school and my safety school, and I still have some important choices to make.
I don't want these disappointments to define who I will become. Regardless of whether I believe it right now, (or if you do, dear reader), there is life after rejection from your dream school. I've got a whole lot of life ahead of me, and so do you. One of my rejection letters said "I hope you will go on to great success in your pursuits." And you know what?
Challenge Accepted.
"The Committee on Admissions has completed its Regular Decision meetings, and I am very sorry to inform you that we cannot offer you admission to the Class of 2020."
I received three messages containing this sentence, with minor variations. So I could be calling this "My Life as a Harvard, Yale and Columbia Reject," but why rub it in more than I need to? The point is, I didn't quite make it. It's hard when there are upwards of 30,000 perfectly qualified applicants and 1,600 spots, so I knew the odds weren't great to begin with. In fact, I applied Early Action and was deferred, making the process an arduous six-month wait before finally getting the bad news.
If you were one of the 464 students who were flat-out rejected during the Early Action phase, you have my sympathies. That hurts. But, in a way, I envy you; the Band-Aid got torn off back in December, and you got to move on to other things, unlike the 4,673 of us who were deferred. Out of those, a lucky few got in during the Regular Decision phase. To those who didn't, I have something to say: Welcome to the Insult to Injury club. We are an elite 10% of the total applicants, and we each endured the longest possible wait before finally being put out of our misery--or into misery, I suppose, since we now need to find somewhere else to go to school.
Yale's letter even said "I hope the replies you receive from other colleges this spring will soon erase any disappointment regarding Yale's decision." Ouch. Normally that'd be a nice thing to hear, but not when the only other responses you got were also rejections.
I'm not bitter in any way toward the institutions that denied my admission. Statistically, the vast majority of applicants wind up like me. Was I sad? Definitely. Did I cry a little?
Maybe.
I'll never experience the 'round-the-clock availability of unlimited pancakes and Jamba Juice at Columbia, Yale's unlimited free 3D printing or, well... Harvard. But it's time to dust myself off and get on with it. The fact is, with all three of my reach schools out of the question, I'm down to my mid-range school and my safety school, and I still have some important choices to make.
I don't want these disappointments to define who I will become. Regardless of whether I believe it right now, (or if you do, dear reader), there is life after rejection from your dream school. I've got a whole lot of life ahead of me, and so do you. One of my rejection letters said "I hope you will go on to great success in your pursuits." And you know what?
Challenge Accepted.
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