My Story of Being Accepted into Harvard

HenryHazlitt

So it's June during my junior year, and I'm kinda bored with school, and I'm looking for some exciting ways to spend my weekend, and like most people, I was using my email as a source for some exhilarating leads. One of them that popped up was an opportunity to volunteer at a local animal shelter and the other way to register for the SAT. I didn't know what the SAT was but it sounded like a good way to goof off, get some service hours, and chill for the weekend so I signed up, I looked through the locations and just picked one that sounded scenic except they all ending in testing location. I got my testing ticket in one hand and a pencil in the other, and I'm wondering what kind of volunteering involves taking exams - I saw this massive crowd of cars in front of the school, and I assumed that I would be proctoring these precocious kids. This morning I was feeling especially virile and witty and as I showed my ticket and got seated, I realized that I was going to be taking the test today, no problem I told myself I slept through most of my classes in high school and got mostly A's, a test called the SAT I thought would mostly involving testing me on different sitting positions and It would quite a relaxing way to spend a slow morning. I open the test and finish the entire thing in like about an hour and thirty minutes, I look and see a timer with about two hours left for the exam, I'm a little confused I wonder if I got the right exam booklet because what I just took was a breeze, most of the kids sitting alongside me were sweating profusely and looking quite studious, I always liked to laugh at the grinds and shy boys that would bury themselves in books and school work. If only they got to see the world like I did growing up. I decided to take a short nap but woke up and saw some time still left, so I decided to look through my answers, I ended up checking them four or five times before the time was up. I thought the entire experience was quite boring, and I would most likely give it two stars if given the opportunity, not to mention the fact that the people organizing the volunteering were quite stern and not very friendly to me. As a member of a reasonably esteemed and well-bred family, I expected better service and entertainment from the event organizers. I went home and debated between beating my younger brother and taking a nap. My instinctive and compassionate nature won over, unfortunately, and I evaded a circumstance to teach my fool of a brother a lesson. I fell asleep soundly, pretty much forgetting the test I took the entire morning. It's a Friday, and I'm bored again, so I check my email and see that I've been contacted again by this College Board for the SAT; I faintly remembered such an activity, so I was intrigued to find what awaited me, and I clicked on the link and waited. The next four numbers: 1600; I stared at it, looked away, then looked back, and realized that those were pretty nice and even numbers. But I was also a bit displeased and disgusted with the six which I saw as the devil's number and inconsistent with my faithful upbringing. I remembered that the SAT was out of 2400, so I was a little disappointed; I failed my fair share of tests, but not this badly. Onto Senior year and I heard everyone frantically talking about college, I didn't know what college was, but I did a quick Google search and found out that it seemed like from the photos a pretty nice country club, and I decided against my better judgment that it wouldn't be the worst place to spend my next four years idling by so I decided to apply to this school my family and friends were practically screeching about: Harvard. To me, it just sounded like a poor inner-city neighborhood trying too hard to be middle class; I mean Harvard - tacky, clunky, and unappealing; I mostly applied out of peer pressure and respect for the marketing, but I hoped that it would live up to its grand expectations. I also sent out applications to a couple of in-state schools because I saw the tuition was cheap and the education seemed to be similar quality, I mean when I go to the grocery store I'm the type of guy to buy store brand - costs less and tastes the same for me especially if the difference in cost is like 300K, not the mention the thrill I feel when saving money and compounding my earnings from my father's business. Even though my parents were doing alright for themselves, I saw it as my duty to follow their ways of temperance and modesty and save them some money. I'm chilling in March when I see an email from this Harvard; I faintly recall applying to said school, and a smile creeps on my face as I slyly remember the essay I wrote and the interview I gave. I knew I was supposed to be nervous, but it brought me great joy to make the interviewer uncomfortable with my crass jokes and impolitic comments. I couldn't wait to see what devilish things they had to say about me in the decision - it seemed to be like judgment day rewarding me for all of my accomplishments or punishing me for my sins, but I was excited to open this 85$ fortune cookie. I opened the email and clicked on the link; I entered the wrong password about 5 or 6 times before I got the right one - I need to stop using my past lovers' names as passwords. There are too many to keep track of, and they bring back unpleasant memories for me, but I lack the creativity and desire to come up with and remember a password for a mediocre school. I see a banner of people jumping up and down like rabid bunnies and congratulations, I'm a bit confused because I don't think there was anything I submitted to be excited about, my grades were mediocre, I didn't do many extracurriculars, and I purposely bungled my interviews and essays to see the reaction I would get, but I guessed it would be ok for me to go to Harvard. I went downstairs and saw my mother making dinner. She was holding a pan filled with food, and she was getting old, so I didn't want to excite her too much; I knew she had been waiting in anticipation for my college decisions from the start of senior year, even though I didn't see what she was so excited about. I waited until she set the pan down and told her in the quietest voice I could muster: Mother, I got into Harvard. She was humming this pleasant tune, but she suddenly got quiet and looked at me, reading the seriousness of my expression. I thought my mother quite smart for a woman; I remembered she graduated from this nice-sounding school starting with a Y. Like an animal that escapes with a wounded leg, she learned from the cruel tricks and pranks I played on her in years past, so she always carefully evaluated the words I said. Then I saw a tear slowly come down her eyelids as a smile broke in her hard-set expression. She passionately embraced me and screamed for joy, my boy, my boy. I just stood there a little confused, I didn't know what had gotten into my mother. When she stopped crying, I told her in a hushed tone, Mother, it's only Harvard. I'm still waiting for those in-state schools to come out. 

Harvard let you in without you knowing what paragraphs are?