A Highschool Senior

It is February 2nd of 2002, and I have an interview with an admissions counselor from Pepperdine University. My dad picks me up from school just before lunch for our trip downtown, and as soon as I close the car door, he asks me,

“Are you ready for this? This is what you’ve been working for. The last 4 years… the last 8 years… You’ve been working for this. The tutors, the late nights, everything.”

“I know dad.”

Silence.

“You know, your Pappy didn’t graduate high school.”

“I know, you got your G.E.D. though.”

“When I was in the 10th grade, I went to work for my dad doing drywall. School was always pretty easy for me, so I just made a deal with the teachers that allowed me to take the tests and pass the classes without actually showing up. Well one day the principal grabbed me walking down the hall and pulled me into his office and accused my of smoking pot at school, which I hadn’t done. He told me to confess, or take suspension. I went home and talked to your grandpa, and I told him that I hadn’t done it, and that I wasn’t going to confess. Further, I wasn’t going to take suspension, because I was dropping out. At that point son, I was making twenty bucks an hour; that’s double what any of those teachers were making. So I said forget it, what do I need school for? Your Grandpa told me that I was a man, and that I could make that decision for myself, so I never went back. Your Grandpa never made it to the 9th grade. He’s a brilliant engineer, a gift that God has granted him, but he has had no formal education.”

I’ve heard this story before, but for some reason, this is the first time that I really understand what my success means to my dad. That’s why he pushes, and that’s why I never feel like I’ve done enough, but I can’t fault him for that.

When we arrive at the hotel where the interviews are taking place, we’re escorted into the lobby by a young, attractive woman with a big smile,

“Shannon will be right out to meet with you.”

“Thanks.” I said smiling back. The fact that I would be meeting with a woman was music to my ears. Over the past 3 years, I had become very adept to charming the opposite sex.

In the next few minutes, the last 4 years flashed before my eyes. Am I here already? Has it really been 4 years? And it had… I was just too busy to notice. Somewhere between school, work, and baseball, high school had passed me by.

Before too long, I’m greeted by another attractive young women,

“Hi Gideon, my name is Shannon.”

“Pleased to meet you ma’am, thank you for taking the time to chat with me.”

“Well the pleasure is all mine,” she says with a smile. “Now, some of the interviewers here have a very… structured approach to interviewing, but I feel that those methods defeat the purpose of these interviews.” Placing her hand on mine, she says “I want to know you. I’ve seen your transcripts, and I’ve seen your test scores… I want to know you.”

On one hand, I understand that her job is to be personable and friendly, but is it just the 18 year old in me hoping that she’s not just asking about my extracurriculars? For a brief moment, my mind wanders and I imagine Shannon leading me to the elevator to finish the interview in her room.

We talked for what seemed like only minutes, but by the time we left the hotel, we had been there for over 3 hours.

“So how did it go?” My dad asks.

“Uh. Really well I guess. She said that they have a great Sports Medicine program.”

“Did she mention how people afford it?”

I knew this was coming.

“Well, she mentioned that my grades and sports and everything would qualify me for a bunch of scholarships… and she said that even though she is still paying on loans from her education, that it is the easiest check she writes each month.” Stupid.

“It costs $40K per year after room and board. The University of _________ is only a quarter of that.”

I don’t know where it came from, but it came quick, “well I don’t want a dollar from you. This is my education.”

More silence. All the way home.