New Nest, Part 3: the Calm Before the Storm

Clark Hall, my ominous-looking freshman dorm
(with the library directly behind it; SCORE!)

I had a big decision to make. It kept me up late at night, grasping dozens of blankets, and still gives me the chills when I think about it today (which comes in handy during the humid dog days of August).

Although I had been wowed by Wesleyan and utterly disappointed by Yale, I wasn't ready to give up on my dream of attending an Ivy League just yet.

I was to apply Yale ED1, hope for the best, and send my application to Wesleyan a few weeks later, ED2. This way, I would be able to sure up my chances at both schools. Those conniving admissions officers thought they could pull a fast one on me, eh? Well, not this this time!

In the weeks before my decision was due, I began to change my mind. I was coming to see chaste Middletown, not dirty New Haven, as my new home; my New Nest, if you will-- and since you're still reading this, you already have.

For a few days, I kept my head down; I fastidiously edited my perfect college application (I would write another post just on the methods and processes I used, but damnit, after all that packing I'm toast), attended several college interviews, and figured out how to study for a dozen APs,

The epiphany that changed my life occurred in the confines of my AP Psychology class one afternoon. I had finished the project we were supposed to be working on and began to mill over the biggest decision of my young life. Yale or Wesleyan? Undeniable glory or the chance to discover myself? Bulldogs or Cardinals?

I leaned over to speak with Jason, who was still working diligently, to get his take on the issue at hand.

Jason, although slightly peeved, asked me a straightforward question, "Well, why do you want to go to Yale?"

I hesitated. Not a good sign. "Well, it's Yale,"

"No shit, Sherlock."

"Everyone knows it and, uh, their academic programs are great."

"But do you see yourself as a student there?" he countered, hoping to quiet me so he could finally get back to work.

Another pause. Damnit, I hadn't thought about that either.

During our tour, I'd seen plenty of students pass me by and, even though it was summer and they had a lighter course load, they looked like they were having no fun at all. What's the point of going to a prestigious university if you're not going to enjoy it?

"No. No, I can't."

"What?" whispered Jason, who had returned to working in the fifteen minutes I took ruminating my first world problem.

All I truly wanted from Yale was its name atop the degree. I wanted to impress friends, family, employers, and passers-by on the street. Amidst the thousands of other students, I would be just a nameless number. There was no overarching sense of freedom or independence as there was at Wesleyan (there are no general education requirements). I would begin to fill the mold of the preppy Ivy League college boy, wearing brightly-colored polos with sweaters tied 'round the neck. (Full disclosure: I actually like the preppy look, but that's beside the point.)

"I guess, maybe--"

"Christ, Fred. You do realize I'm trying to work, right?"

Caileigh, yet another diligent Psych Wizard, leaned over to relieve Jason of his duties as makeshift college counselor.

"And what about Wesleyan?" she asked. "What makes you want to go there?"

My pulse also plunges to 20 beats per minute.

I should probably now mention that after each of these questions, I went into a weird half-dead state and stared off into the distance. Coincidentally, this is when I do all of my best thinking.

At the mention of the name, I couldn't help but smile for a split second before returning my mouth to its original agape condition. I could go on for hours about all that Wes offered me: the PPE program (which I eventually lost interest in, but again, beside the point), a vibrant student life, a quaint, small town atmosphere, and great academic programs.

"It's where I belong!" I said to a dark, empty classroom.

Somehow, I managed to not hear the bell, the final announcements, or Sheck-Dog, the grandest Psych Wizard, leave to go home.

I sped past the puny freshmen, waiting for their voices to get deeper and/or their mothers to pick them up, straight to the main office. Kolbster, my counselor, had to know immediately. Miraculously, he was still in his office, burning the midnight oil. After a long talk about the implications of applying Early Decision, which cut an additional twenty minutes off of cross country practice (Danloes would not be pleased), he agreed that I should follow my heart.

By now, it should be obvious that I give nicknames to all adults in my life.

Yale was always going to be a long shot, but Wes was definitely within my grasp. If I'd applied ED2 to Wesleyan, I would be taking too much of a chance-- not only would I be denied from Yale in ED1; my odds of getting into Wes were considerably lower.

Forgetting I drove to school that morning, I ran home from practice to tell my mom the great news. I was ready to do it, then and there.

She was still upset I hadn't chosen the University of Michigan, but I had to fly to my... New Nest. And yes, I will try to insert the title of my blog into my posts as often as possible.

Ignoring her pleas to stay within a hundred-mile radius, I turned to her and said, "With the click of this button, I'll be spending the next four years in Connecticut."

She entered that same half-dead state I know and love to think things over. Then, after holding a stare for nearly twenty minutes (I was about to call the Guinness Book of World Records), she gasped, shivered, looked at me, and nodded.

I clicked 'submit' on the Common App website and then spun around in my chair. I did it. I was done. The college admissions process for me was over. Now, all I had to do was wait...

I can't remember if this is before or after I received the decision.

December 14th, 2012 will live on as the best day of my life. At 4:55 PM EST, I found out that I would be attending Wesleyan University the coming fall. After all the studying, the testing, the editing and writing, the volunteering, and the accolades, I had done it.

Souring the day, however, was the Newtown massacre, which occurred some 45 minutes west of Middletown. Because of this vicious act of senseless violence, I wasn't truly able to enjoy the prospect of the next four years of my life, knowing that the lives of twenty children were cut short.

...

And so I start a new chapter in my life. I was once a small sparrow, eating chewed-up mush from the mouth of his loving mother, still too weak to fly. But now, I am a strong cardinal, going to his... New Nest.