David Altshuler, M.S.
(305) 978-8917 | [email protected]

The “Ifs,” the “If Onlies” and the Firing Squad

The “Ifs”

“Daddy, if we had a bigger back yard, could we have a pony?”

“Yes, dear, in the sense that if your father had wheels, he could be a trolley car.”



“If I put down on my college application that I am an under-represented minority, would it improve my chances of being admitted?”

“Yes, in the sense that if I robbed a bank, I would have money.”

***

The “If Onlies”

If I had an A in physics instead of a B; if I had taken AP English rather than Honors; if I apply early decision; if my mom had attended my first choice college; if I were president of the “Nuke a Homeless Whale” Club; if I hadn’t told my counselor that he looked like his face was on fire and somebody put it out with a golf shoe.

My same kids who chat endlessly about how many angels can dance on the head of a pin, incessantly debating the above imponderables make mistakes in real time when it comes to deciding where to apply. “I probably won’t get in to my first choice school, so I won’t apply.” Bad choice. The cost is modest: $50 for an application; $10 to send SATs; a few hours to write essays, fill in forms and bake cookies for hard working recommendation writing teachers and counselors. And who knows? You might get a lucky roll of the dice.

If I can’t predict with perfect accuracy whether or not a given child will be admitted to a given school in a given year, neither can you. And I had over 20 years of making these silly guesses before giving up. (Interestingly enough, in retrospect my pronouncements are invariably perfect: I knew Sally would be admitted to Wesleyan; she plays the tuba. I knew Lee would be rejected from Williams; he isn’t first generation college.) And what if I could say with spurious precision: “Your chances at HCC are 27.1%.” How would that change the behavior of an applicant? If you were captain of the Javelin Catching Club, your odds would be 32.6%. But instead you were the recording secretary of the Steel-Shoed Electricians Club. So your odds are actually 24.5%. Whatever the alleged odds, you still apply.

The Firing Squad

Jack and Mo are handcuffed to a stake in front of a firing squad. The lieutenant tells his men to lower their rifles for a moment, punches Mo in the mouth and addresses him: “Do you want a blindfold, you pig?”

Mo spits blood and teeth at the lieutenant and says, “The heck with your blind fold.” The lieutenant turns away, signaling for his men to pick up their riffles and prepare to fire. “And the heck with your mother,” Mo adds.

Jack turns to Mo and says, “Shush. Don’t make trouble.”

***

OK, so maybe this joke doesn’t translate so well to the printed blog, but the point is: Mo and Jake are already in trouble! They are about to be shot and killed. What difference does it make if Mo insults the lieutenant’s mother? In 60 seconds, he’s going to be dead anyway.

But my odds of getting admitted to my first choice school–the school where I truly match, where I belong–are 50 to 1 against. Fair enough. But if you don’t apply, your odds of getting in are zero. By filling in an application, your odds just went from 0% up to 2%.

But what about my child’s self esteem? Won’t a rejection harm his delicate person-hood? No. We need to prepare our child for the path, not prepare the path for our child. Every child should be rejected from a college or three. “A man’s reach should exceed his grasp or what’s a heaven for?” A student needs a rejection to show him that rejection does exist but does not destroy. Not to be insensitive, but get over it. Winston Churchill lost three elections before becoming prime minister, yet I would be surprised to learn that the words “Winston Churchill” and “low self esteem” have been spoken in the same sentence.

In short, take your shot. Five years from now, you don’t want to look back on the transition process as “If only” I had applied where I truly wanted to go. Five billion years from now, the earth will be a frozen snowball drifting lifelessly through the infinite void. This ending is as unpleasant as it is inevitable. In the meantime, shouldn’t we do the best we can? Ask that person to have dinner with you. Read that book that might be too difficult. Take a chance. And for goodness sake, go ahead and apply to that reach school. You just don’t want to look back on “if” and “if only.”

David

David

Copyright © David Altshuler 1980 – 2022    |    Miami, FL • Charlotte, NC     |    (305) 978-8917    |    [email protected]