We are applying to high schools, private and public, for our son.
It is an elaborate process. Essays (from both him AND us), interviews (again, both him and us), transcripts, report cards, utility bills. The poor kid is scheduled to take no less than four standardized tests in the month of January.
And also those recommendation forms that his teachers fill out and we supposedly never see.
Those forms have charts of desirable and undesirable traits that the teacher checks off.
On the form for Catholic high schools, at least here in Houston, there’s a question at the end, “Is there anything about the applicant’s family you think we should know?”
Didn’t think about that when you fired off that hot email to the teacher, did you?
One school, though, instructed us to turn in the whole application packet at once. So, I gave the recommendation form to the teacher and she gave it back to me, per instructions, in a sealed envelope signed along the seal.
When I turned it in at the high school, the lady taking them ripped open the envelope before my eyes to staple it to the rest.
And I could see the chart with all the checkmarks. All of the checks, except one, down at one end.
When I got out to the car, I looked up the form on the school’s website on my phone.
Had most of them been at the “good” end? Yes. Whew.
The outlier? “Is student organized?” Looked like the teacher had checked, “Sometimes.”
She was being generous.
Wish this wasn’t necessary. Wish there was a seat at an excellent school for every kid in the country, no matter what his test scores or her parents are like.