David Altshuler, M.S.
(305) 978-8917 | david@davidaltshuler.com

Category: College Admissions

Bad Text

Remember those horrific, “Mommy, mommy” jokes? Unbearably offensive a generation ago, they are almost unpublishable by the more enlightened standards of today:  “Mommy, mommy, I don’t want to go to Europe.” “Shut up and keep swimming.” “Mommy, mommy, I don’t want to run in circles.” “Shut up or I’ll nail

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Supermodel

One of my running buddies is–how can I put this politely?–“exacting.” Steve’s house is immaculate; his business runs like an atomic clock; even his hair is perfect. In the 50-something years we’ve been friends, I have never known him to fail to fulfill a commitment. Even his employees at his

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Not Beowulf! Heathcliff!

Everyone in our running group is infinitely supportive. Of running. “When is your next event?” “How can I help you train?” But beyond athletics, we tend to be snarky by nature and brutal in practice. The phrase “junior high” springs to mind. Also, “mean girls” and “off our meds.” One

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Clothes the File

Once upon a time there lived a vain parent whose only worry in life was to convince her neighbors how clever her son was. Every hour she would regale anyone who would listen regarding her son’s accomplishments in the classroom and on the athletic field. Word of this parent’s vanity

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Stray Dog

So much of parenting has to do with compliance that it can be hard to keep our eyes on the prize: the relationship between you and your child. “Brush your teeth; clean your room; do your homework” is just the beginning. There are more essential imperatives. “Learn to swim; don’t

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Stealing Home

I don’t mean to creep you out but someone is stalking you. This particular someone is watching your every move, listening to every word you say, studying your facial expressions, thinking about how you respond to every situation. There is no place you can hide, nothing you can do to

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“No” surprise

Forty-something years ago I was attracted to a college classmate. After our literature seminar, we chatted about the novels we wanted to write as adults. “We liked the same music, we liked the same bands, we liked the same clothes.” It seemed like we had a lot in common. But

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Hope

There’s always hope. Nah. Not really. Not always. At a recent meeting of pre-meds at a university whose name you would recognize, the panel of actual medical students and genuine doctors gave advice to the aspiring (“slathering” has such unfortunate connotations) physicians. Phrases were bandied about like Frisbees at a

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Help Wanted

Not that it matters to most students, or most universities for that matter, but several hundred test-takers score a 1600 on the SAT each year. Some of these kiddos with “perfect” scores are admitted to highly competitive colleges (HSCs), some not. As one HSC admissions counselor pointed out, “we could

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Copyright © David Altshuler 2019    |    Miami, FL • Charlotte, NC     |    (305) 978-8917    |    david@davidaltshuler.com