When I look back to the beginning of my senior year of high school, I
had
no clue what I was doing in terms of figuring out where I wanted to go
to college and how I was going to get myself there. I felt
somewhat
lost. My wonderful sister, who was in academia herself at that
time,
was a great help, however. In the midst of my angst-ridden
search,
she mentioned Mount Holyoke. "I think you would like it there,
Tracy.
You should take a look." she said. Well, I had one of those "365
best colleges" books, you know, those books that almost all high school
seniors wanting to go to college have? Well, I took my sister's
advice
and looked up Mount Holyoke. I liked what I read. I looked
at the MHC website. I
liked
what I saw there, too. Although I was far from being ready to
commit,
I put MHC on my list.
I was lucky. As it turned out, I was scheduled to visit my
sister,
who went to school in Boston, on the same weekend of Mount Holyoke's
Preview
weekend. I got the chance to visit campus, go to a class, stay
overnight
in a dorm. It was great. For as long as I could remember, I
had always believed that I would never, ever, apply early decision to
college.
I had issues making decisions, and thought that I just *knew* I
wouldn't
be able to be *that* decisive.
Well, I proved myself wrong. I had such a great time at Preview
that
I left MHC that weekend knowing that that was where I wanted to end
up.
I knew that I belonged there. After leaving MHC that weekend, my
parents and I went to Smith College for a tour and an interview.
I have to laugh at myself when I remember how I stood outside the Smith
admissions office, horrified, freaking out to my mom about the
possibility
of me not getting into Mount Holyoke.
By this time, it's the end of October, I'm a senior in high
school.
My early decision application was due on December 1st of that year,
1998.
I carefully filled out my application, wrote my essays, and put all
necessary
information together. The week before it was due, I gave the
application
to my (wonderful!) high school dean, who was going to send it off for
me.
But there was something else to be done. Before I went to MHC for
preview, I had been under the impression that I was going to have an
interview
while I was there. It turned out that this wasn't going to
happen.
So I got the name and number of an alumna in Chicago, where I live, who
could interview me. When I got home, I called her. I
received
no response. Hmm...This was odd. My dean called her.
Once again, no response. Even more odd. My dean called the
MHC admissions office and got two more phone numbers of people who
could
interview me. I called them both, but neither of their phones
seemed
to be working. By this point, I was running out of time. I
told my dean about the two faulty numbers, and she had me call the
admissions
office at MHC to set up a phone interview, which I did for that Friday
at 4pm.
That Friday morning, I was plagued by a horrifying thought:
Chicago
isn't in the same time zone as Massachusetts! What if the woman I
had spoken too called at 4pm her time? I would just be getting
out
of school. Needless to say, I rushed home that day. When I
got home, I realized that the hurry was unnecessary. I sat down
and
wrung my hands nervously until 4, waiting for my phone call.
However,
4 o'clock came around and the phone didn't ring. 4:05.
4:10.
4:15. 4:30. By the time 5 o'clock had passed without a
phone
call, I realized that the phone interview wasn't going to happen that
day.
By this point, the application deadline had passed. It was the
4th
of December. Time had run out, and I wasn't sure what to
do.
So I called and left a message with the woman in the admissions office,
saying that I still hoped we could do an interview.
That Monday, I called home from school and was told by my mom that the
admissions woman had called, and was expecting me at home that night,
and
would call. I remember my mom being miffed. The woman from
the admissions office had made a comment about us "having time".
As it was past the early decision deadline, my mom was confused.
As it turns out, the admissions woman was under the impression that I
had
applied regular admission. My mom set her straight and explained
that we did not, indeed, have time.
I remember sitting on my bed that night. December 7, 1998, doing
physics homework. It was just over half an hour after my mom had
told the woman that I would be home. The phone rang, and I
remember
getting up to answer it. The conversation went something like
this:
Hello?
Hi,
is Tracy there?
Yes,
this is she.
Hi,
this is ***** from the Mount Holyoke admissions office. How are
you
tonight?
Oh,
I'm doing well. How are you?
Oh,
I'm doing great. Actually, I have some good news for you.
Oh really?
Yes.
I had the Dean of Admissions look over your application, and you've
been
accepted. Congratulations.
.......What?
After
a few minutes of chit chat, during which I tried to pinch myself in
order
to believe in the truth of what had just happened, the admissions
office
angel asked if I wanted to tell my parents. Excited, I of course
said yes. I covered the phone and let out a shriek.
I GOT IN!!
