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I have written and rewritten this tiny paragraph several times consulting Antz, my Mom and Aimee and then replacing adjectives, finally reminded that I am fine just being my imperfect self. I still panic when I think of what could these other parents be writing? I wonder if we didn't elaborate enough on our 16 year relationship. I don't want to come off as this fake Ozzie & Harriet version of perfection but I also don't want them to think we are cray cray. I wonder if I should impress upon the fact that I have accomplished so many rad things in the past 15 years *Price Is Right Showcase Showdown winner here* but I don't dare to come off as a braggart. Talking to my friend Story, she mentioned how much easier it would be to make it first come, first serve or by lottery but I wouldn't want to be the unlucky one. This way I feel like I am *in some small way* in control of our destiny. WHICH SUCKS!!! I have no plan B. No other school is even in consideration. Her educational future rests on my ability to write a simple essay. I'm sitting in the library at my high school anxiously *and sweating* waiting for the start of my SATs all over again. I'm guilty of over analyzing and freaking out too much, but I can't help myself. Public schools in LA are ridiculous *unless you live in the right zip codes which we don't* I have no clue of how I will compose myself during the interview process. This is what I want to submit...
**names have been changed for privacy
Renee Mease
Director of Admissions
All Souls School
1157 Lexington Avenue
New York, NY 10021
Dear Ms. Mease,
As All Souls School is one of Manhattan’s premier preschools and you are certain to be terribly busy, it seemed to me a good idea to write you a letter briefly summarizing my application for admission to the Class of 2013.
First, let me say that I can appreciate the difficulty of your position. Picking from a group of applicants so qualified as the one with which you are faced is no easy feat. At Gymboree just yesterday, I saw two of my classmates build a tower of blocks a full six blocks high. It stood proudly for almost 30 seconds, falling only when the two young engineers decided to destroy it so as to gnaw on the blocks.
As for myself, I humbly present a dispassionate list of my diversions. To begin with what may be your most pressing concern, I have been training over the past several months to use a toilet. I currently spend about ten hours a day diaperless, and I gain at my current pace roughly two hours a month, with only a handful of public accidents to my name.
Furthermore, I am learning to speak, and at the moment my vocabulary stands at roughly 150 words. I am often able to express my feelings in speech, this week having said three times to my father, “Me hungee”, whereupon he fed me — I am discovering that I can use vocalizations to elicit reactions from other people. Turning the pages of the picture books from which my parents read to me has also become a treasured pastime.
The development of my physical faculties is, if I may say so, ahead of schedule. On more than one occasion, I have caught a ball that was thrown to me softly, and I can throw a ball myself several feet. Chairs are by now easy for me to use, although to be frank, tall steps and some doorknobs still give me trouble. Also, my parents discovered with apparent dismay that I’ve developed the ability to help myself to the contents of the pantry. (They stumbled on that discovery last week, when my mother entered our kitchen to find me dancing naked on a pile of powdered sugar.)
You are also wondering, I’m sure, about the development of my social skills. They are above average. I am rarely combative while on play dates, and without being submissive, I am able to deal with ungenerous peers with a simple “No! Mine! Miiiine!” My mother and I are quite close, though, and some have remarked that I am a bit “clingy”. I can assure you that this would not be a problem for me at All Souls; if my mother is allowed to come into the classroom with me on my first day, she will be able to leave not long afterwards, when I am distracted from my crying by a crayon or a picture of a dog.
Finally, my father, a leading economist at the World Bank, sits on the board of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and my dear mother is a philanthropist who busies herself with the sisyphean task of spending her vast inherited wealth.
I look anxiously forward to meeting you at the play date you have been kind enough to organize for All Souls applicants. If I may elucidate anything about my application for you, please do not hesitate to call me at home and speak to my parents. I would have liked very much to speak with you personally, but I will be unable to communicate with more than simple, two-word phrases until I am at least a year older.
Sincerely,
Lillybell Colvin
Sarcasm FTW!!! I stole that genius excerpt from this blog. Anyone else pulling their hair out over school admissions? I'm sure I'm the only nutball out there. This makes potty training a piece of cake *which it isn't* having Liv walk around the house diaper-less is extremely weird and comical.
Director of Admissions
All Souls School
1157 Lexington Avenue
New York, NY 10021
Dear Ms. Mease,
As All Souls School is one of Manhattan’s premier preschools and you are certain to be terribly busy, it seemed to me a good idea to write you a letter briefly summarizing my application for admission to the Class of 2013.
First, let me say that I can appreciate the difficulty of your position. Picking from a group of applicants so qualified as the one with which you are faced is no easy feat. At Gymboree just yesterday, I saw two of my classmates build a tower of blocks a full six blocks high. It stood proudly for almost 30 seconds, falling only when the two young engineers decided to destroy it so as to gnaw on the blocks.
As for myself, I humbly present a dispassionate list of my diversions. To begin with what may be your most pressing concern, I have been training over the past several months to use a toilet. I currently spend about ten hours a day diaperless, and I gain at my current pace roughly two hours a month, with only a handful of public accidents to my name.
Furthermore, I am learning to speak, and at the moment my vocabulary stands at roughly 150 words. I am often able to express my feelings in speech, this week having said three times to my father, “Me hungee”, whereupon he fed me — I am discovering that I can use vocalizations to elicit reactions from other people. Turning the pages of the picture books from which my parents read to me has also become a treasured pastime.
The development of my physical faculties is, if I may say so, ahead of schedule. On more than one occasion, I have caught a ball that was thrown to me softly, and I can throw a ball myself several feet. Chairs are by now easy for me to use, although to be frank, tall steps and some doorknobs still give me trouble. Also, my parents discovered with apparent dismay that I’ve developed the ability to help myself to the contents of the pantry. (They stumbled on that discovery last week, when my mother entered our kitchen to find me dancing naked on a pile of powdered sugar.)
You are also wondering, I’m sure, about the development of my social skills. They are above average. I am rarely combative while on play dates, and without being submissive, I am able to deal with ungenerous peers with a simple “No! Mine! Miiiine!” My mother and I are quite close, though, and some have remarked that I am a bit “clingy”. I can assure you that this would not be a problem for me at All Souls; if my mother is allowed to come into the classroom with me on my first day, she will be able to leave not long afterwards, when I am distracted from my crying by a crayon or a picture of a dog.
Finally, my father, a leading economist at the World Bank, sits on the board of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and my dear mother is a philanthropist who busies herself with the sisyphean task of spending her vast inherited wealth.
I look anxiously forward to meeting you at the play date you have been kind enough to organize for All Souls applicants. If I may elucidate anything about my application for you, please do not hesitate to call me at home and speak to my parents. I would have liked very much to speak with you personally, but I will be unable to communicate with more than simple, two-word phrases until I am at least a year older.
Sincerely,
Lillybell Colvin
Sarcasm FTW!!! I stole that genius excerpt from this blog. Anyone else pulling their hair out over school admissions? I'm sure I'm the only nutball out there. This makes potty training a piece of cake *which it isn't* having Liv walk around the house diaper-less is extremely weird and comical.
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