So your students are getting into college… Now what?

by ALISTAIR BOMPHRAY

A few months back, I wrote about the challenge of getting students into college—specifically the challenge of coaching them through the college application process. Now by the grace of Athena (not to mention those poor souls whose job it is to review so many thousands of mind-numbing applications) it’s payoff time. For the last month, I’ve received weekly text messages that read something like “Mr. B!!! Got n 2 sf state!!” No doubt the rejections will be soon to follow, but at present the news is overwhelmingly good. And, yeah, I’m reveling in it a little. To share in my students’ post-acceptance high has been one of the most sublimely validating experiences of my young career, even more so since I’ve had a lot of these kids for three years.

If this were a Hollywood movie, my work would be finished. Oh, Jacqueline, you did it! I’m so proud of you! Teacher and student exchange a platonic hug. Student pulls a tattered copy of I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings from her backpack. Remember when you gave me this? Well, it really spoke to me. Student exits to the Future, which, as indicated by the swelling pop song in the background, is going to be pretty kick ass. Teacher passes off the Angelou book to this year’s token Smart But Uninspired Student (‘cause it’s a cycle, get it?) Fade to black.

But as all of us flesh and blood teachers know, this ain’t Hollywood.

Just because a kid gets into a four-year university doesn’t mean they’re going to enroll. It takes courage to sign on that dotted line—especially for a kid who will be the first in their family to attend college. Which is why so many, in the end, don’t. One of my students last year was so overwhelmed by the immensity of this decision she stopped checking her email. She literally froze. By the time I found out and forced her to log in to her account, it was too late.

The decision—or lack thereof—to turn down a four-year university is rooted in some deep and legitimate concerns, things like a) money, b) parents, c) fear, d) a boyfriend/girlfriend, or e) some combination of the above. These pressures proved to be so potent with last year’s seniors that my academy has thrown around the idea of paying a teacher this summer to serve as a kind of on-call counselor for university-accepted graduates.

Not that community college is a bad thing or anything—it’s just that getting into a four-year college represents such a victory for some of these kids, it’s painful to watch them turn it down. You hope they’ll transfer after two years… but who knows, really? According to a study done by the UCLA Chicano Studies Research Center, only “10 percent of [Latino] students enrolled at a California community college campus successfully transferred to a four-year institution” in 2002-03.

Therefore, when one my university-accepted seniors tells me they are considering community college, I try to at least present a case for going to a four-year school. Which brings me to my inspiration for writing this post in the first place. Recently, one of my hardest working students from the last three years—a student who was accepted to UC Riverside two weeks ago—broke it to me that she was seriously leaning towards Pasadena City College. My first reaction was, “Patricia, no! You got into a UC! Are you out of your mind?” Then she told me her reasons.

And the thing is, I’m really torn. My hope is that you, the reader, will pipe in with your own suggestions/questions/relevant personal experiences/general brilliance. Here’s the full story:

Patricia is a basketball player. She doesn’t particularly want to play basketball in college, but she sees it as a free (or at least discounted) ticket to college. Right now she’s not polished enough to play for a Division I team, but apparently her coach—and the coach at Pasadena CC—believe that two years of community college ball will put her in a good position to get a scholarship to a four-year school.

Last weekend, I traveled to Orange County with four fellow teachers and ten students, including Patricia, for a conference. While we were down there, Patricia visited the Pasadena campus. She met the basketball coach, the team (“I didn’t really want to play basketball either,” one of the girls told her), the dean (really pulling out all the stops here), and was given a red carpet tour of the facilities. “Their computer lab is UC-caliber,” Patricia reported back to me. Apparently, the officials at Pasadena know who they’re competing with.

The other piece of the puzzle is that Patricia’s family doesn’t have a lot of money. Her parents are raising her two younger nephews, and they’re still paying back her brother’s student loan for a degree he never finished. Understandably, they’re hesitant to co-sign on another one. Patricia is still waiting to hear back from FAFSA herself.

Money is obviously the main issue here. And although there are people who will argue until they’re red in the face that money should never keep a person out of college, it’s hard to advise someone to go into debt. I find it significant that on the same day I discussed all of this with Patricia, I stumbled across this recent and terrifying feature in The Huffington Post titled “Majoring in Debt.”

I don’t doubt that Patricia will transfer, basketball scholarship or no. The girl is going to get her bachelor’s—I know it. But it’s still hard for me stand pat while she passes up the opportunity to go to a UC.

So what do you all think?

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Unrelated tragicomic school anecdote: Today at my school there was an anti-tobacco rally sponsored by that other most tempting post-high school option, the Marines. Basically the kids stood outside and watched skateboarders and BMX bikers trick out on a half-pipe while some local DJ listed the various chemicals in cigarettes. To the side was a large truck emblazoned with the Marines logo, in front of which was a group (or should I say platoon?) of uniformed Marines impressing students with their feats of strength on a portable pull-up bar.

Here’s a snippet of a surreal conversation that one of my journalism students had with one of the Marines.

Darlyn: Why are you guys here?
Marine: ‘Cause your school’s fucked.
Darlyn: Don’t say that.

An awkward moment passes. The Marine considers doing a pull-up. (Okay, I added that part.)

Darlyn: So what do you have to do with the anti-tobacco rally?
Marine: You got me. I had a cigarette twenty minutes ago and I can’t wait to have another after this thing is over.

Go ahead. Laugh. Then think about it. And cry.

Alistair teaches English and Journalism in Hayward, CA.