esrosedotblog

CYCLING IN

I got my first MIT prospects today.

25 young people from all over Riverside County CA and beyond.

There are the usual mix of Mexican kids. Particularly from a top school just on this side of the border.

The last admit that I had was from that school.

What happens now?

They are to get in touch with me and arrange an interview.

It could be very soon. There are always a few early birds.

I have a routine now that works pretty well for me and, I think, for them. I will meet with them any day of the week at 1PM in the center of Palm Springs and we will have coffee for an hour. And talk.

There is no structure. There is no assignment of what I am supposed to give or get.

I have a small agenda. But it varies.

The main thing is that after the hour, whatever happens, I will go home and write an essay and make some recommendations. Mostly ratings to certain questions.

Pretty straight forward.

I will get to say if I think that this is the one out of a thousand. Since I have only interviewed about a hundred and something kids I am not near a thousand but I try to have one outstanding kid every year. Maybe one "never saw such a good one" before.

We have some influence. Not a lot. We live in a backwater. There is a cultural and intellectual gap with other places. The school ratings are not that high. Even if the kids are at the top they are often at the top of a school that isn't at the bottom but perhaps is in a middle somewhere.

Then there are the SATs and what they are looking for at the Institute.

It has taken awhile to get used to the fact that I am farting in the air but it is good farting and I do the best I can. I try to take out of it what I get in the hour itself. With the kid.

I still remember the kid who did card tricks to finish off the interview. The girl, poor girl, who had a fantasy about the rest of her life which was almost crazy. I talked her down and she wrote me an email thanking me for getting her headed in the right direction.

I remember the big blond boy whose Dad brought him and told me about the boy's older brother who was doing so well at MIT. Two years ahead. The big blond boy was stoned and had no interest at all.

I remember well, the smart alec who came late, talked up a storm, took control of the interview and we laughed a lot. He got in.

I remember last year, the first candidate who came out to me and felt safe in doing so. What a nice moment. He didn't get in but he stays in my heart. He was very good and could have been admitted. Big frog, small puddle.

This was me. I came from a town that had all twelve grades in one building. 21 in my graduation class. I got in.

This year I have a home schooled kid and two from the worst school in the county. Gangs. These kids are often the best kids. Adversity has sanded off the edges and made them hungry.

I love doing this. It is so good for me.

I never did a fucking thing for the school until I started this five years ago. It has brought everything back to me.

I am somewhere in the crowd here. Class of 1958.

Labels: MIT