The Winey Hubby and I were talking with a friend the other day, and as conversation usually goes, talk turned to what the kids were up to. He has a high school senior, so his update centered on college applications, college interviews, college visits, college decisions…you get the idea. We could totally sympathize, having gone through all that college horror one year ago. The difference with us is that one year ago was the LAST time we were on the “find a college merry-go-round”, and our friend was just starting out.
I couldn’t help but reminisce though, about the two Winey Children and their college searches, because they were so very different.
The Winey Son, at a very young age, decided that he was going to attend The United States Military Academy at West Point. For the record, we were not a military family. His desire to attend West Point came from his goal of serving his country. We couldn’t have been prouder of him. And by the time it was all over, we couldn’t have been more exhausted. You normally don’t decide to attend West Point and start the process during spring of your junior year (disclaimer: some do, and make it work, but for us, this was a four year family project). Nope, we started his freshman year, attending service academy information sessions, visiting West point unofficially (you have to be a junior to visit officially) and talking to current Cadets and grads.
Right after his junior year in high school, he was accepted into the West Point Summer Leadership Experience program, or SLE. He got to spend a week at West Point, living like a Cadet.
That week settled it for him: West Point was the place to be. And then came the application to West Point. Essays and essays and more essays. Like every good parent with a communications degree, I became the official proofreader. To this day, I can still quote some of those essays from memory, given the number of times we all proofed and re-proofed and then re-re-proofed. There was the physical fitness test, which had to be administered by a PE Teacher, a background check, to be signed off on by the local chief of police and a series of physical exams to make sure his eyes, ears, lungs and limbs were all in tip top working order.
Did I mention that in addition to applying to West Point, the candidate must also secure a nomination from a member of Congress? That means both senators and your congressman. Three more sets of applications and even more letters of recommendation. One of the senators wanted a letter of rec from a peer. The Winey Son asked his best buddy to write it. I swear to you that boy still has nightmares about that letter, because once his mom found out he’d been asked to write it, she was on him like any self-respecting AP English teacher. And she’s an automotive engineer. In the end, the easiest way for us to keep track of who require what and the various deadlines was a spreadsheet. It worked though, because he was granted interviews with all three of our Congressmen, one of which required a visit to Columbus. This in addition to the other schools we made him apply to just in case.
In October, a letter arrived from West Point telling him that as long as he received a nomination from a congressperson, he was in. He had already had his nomination interviews, so all that was left to do was to wait.
Two months later, one December Saturday, our son opened a letter from our congressman, looked up at us and said, “I’m in.” There are moments in your children’s lives that you’ll never forget, and this was one of those moments. Two boxes of tissues later, we called the grandparents and the friends and family and bought a “Go Army, Beat Navy” banner for the front door. Four years later, we gathered again to watch The Winey Son become The Winey Second Lieutenant as he graduated from West Point. It was quite a ride.
The Winey Daughter had only one request when it came time for her college search: SOUTH. I truly believe the polar vortex Cleveland winters had scarred her for life, and that a campus below the Mason Dixon line was the only option she saw possible. Unfortunately for the Hubby and I, our alma mater was very much above that line, so there was no chance that our youngest would be walking in the same steps we did. We dealt with it. Eventually.
Instead of the focus being on one school, The Winey Daughter had a number of wonderful schools in mind. Ten, to be exact. Only one of which we had ever been to, meaning visits to the other nine of them. One epic weekend, she and the Winey Hubby visited 7 yes 7, of those campuses. (I stayed home to avoid a massive dog-boarding bill.) I have no idea how they kept them all straight, but I do know that after that initial visit, some schools were knocked out of contention. I also know that each visit required a stop at the school bookstore, in order to purchase a t-shirt or sweatshirt in order to prove she had set foot on the campus. (Hey, shopping is shopping, right?)
The application process was all done on line, and more schools had entered into the Common Application process since The Winey Son had applied, which made it a bit easier on her. There was still the proofreading and letters of recommendation, though. And since The Winey Daughter did not set the bar low, all this went on while she was captaining the soccer team, working towards her Honors Diploma and on her way to being named a two time AP Scholar. Stressful? Don’t get me started.
Once the acceptances began rolling in, we told her she had to actually choose a school. But that required re-visiting her four top choices, which of course, were in four different states. This is about the time that we became Hilton rewards members. It also coincides with the time we bought new tires for the SUV.
Finally, it came down to two schools. And she wouldn’t tell us which one. It wasn’t that she wanted to torture us (although it turned out to be a good way to do so), it’s that she is a planner and a thinker and she had to take her own time to decide. Do you know how hard it is to NOT give your opinion on something like this, even though you know for absolute certainty which school she should go to? (Ahem) Again, don’t get me started. This had to be her choice.
She chose Elon University in North Carolina (yes, it was the one I had hoped for). She moved in this past August and has been having the time of her life ever since. She loves the school, the classes, her friends and the fact that she can call us and announce that it is 70 sunny degrees in North Carolina when she totally knows we are ducking snowflakes here in Northeast Ohio. I’m not sure if I’m proud or bitter about that evil little part of her personality. Probably a little of both.
So yes, they were very different college searches, but in the end, they were still college searches. And for each child, The Winey Hubby and I had to come to accept that a college search meant that said child would soon be leaving. That’s what we raised them to do right? To grow and learn and explore and take on the world each in their own way, on their own terms. So I can tell you all with absolute certainty that there was one part of these searches that was exactly the same, both times: that bittersweet moment when you say goodbye to your freshman (or Plebe, in the case of The Winey Son), cry a little (ok, fine, a lot) and wish them all the love and luck and happiness that life has to offer.
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