Chapter 11 — Pressure
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he clatter of 250 spoons scraping the last traces of chocolate pudding from 250 saucers died away as Mr. Hanshaw arose to make the usual post prandial announcements. So familiar was the procedure that he needed no bell nor tap on a glass. Most of the announcements were formal and routine. Certain malefactors were to report to the woodpile. The first act of the play would rehearse at 4:30. The inhabitants of Brackett House would meet with Coach Johnson at his table. “Finally, it is a pleasure to announce that Mr. Robert A. Estabrook, whom some of you will remember as having graduated five years ago, is with us at lunch today. He is on the admissions staff at Darthherst College and will talk at 2 o’clock in the Common Room with any juniors and seniors interested in that distinguished institution of higher learning … That’s all for today, gentlemen.” Chairs scraped and confusion became general. In the Common Room rather complicated mental and emotional processes began which bore only a distant relationship to words being said. Each of the seniors and most of the juniors present were asking anxiously inside themselves, “Can I get in?” Bob Estabrook, a neat young man wearing above his red and yellow Kennebec Academy tie, a smile not quite artificial, was asking himself, “Will I get any kids out of this lot which I can get by the Admissions Committee? Or will they all go to BBC?” But neither of these questions was asked aloud. Bob passed out cards asking for name, address, and class, “just so my boss will know I saw somebody,” and started the meeting with a reminiscence of his days at Kennebec and an unfortunate question about the recent football season. He then slipped into a well-rehearsed description of the excellent facilities at Dartherst, the eminence of the faculty and the flexibility of the program. It is well that he had rehearsed the talk because while his mouth was saying —“We have one of the best college libraries in the state. Furthermore, we have open stacks so you can go in any time and look over the actual books available on a certain subject. You can’t do that in a University library,”— his mind was thinking, ‘What is the use of talking to these children about college? They really have no idea what college really is and what a library is for. It’s like talking to third graders about marriage’—“and we have 20 squash courts, two hockey rinks, and an Olympic-size pool. If you don’t make a varsity team, there are JV and club teams so you can play almost any sport at your own level. Any questions?” A profound and embarrassed silence. Finally Jock Peterson, unable to bear the silence and willing to ask almost any question but the persistent one on everyone’s mind, asked, “Can you have a car at Dartherst?” “Yes,” answered Bob, “if you can find a place to park it. A bicycle is more practical, and walking is easier.” He thought, ‘the question is antediluvian and irrelevant. All colleges now recognize that some students need cars, and to choose a college on the basis of cars must be the height of stupidity.’ “Any other questions?” Again, a long and uneasy pause. “What is your average college board score?” That came closer to The Question. “About mid-600’s,” answered Bob. “But that doesn’t say much except that many bright kids come to Dartherst. We don’t accept candidates entirely on the basis of scores. We have some in the high 400’s and quite a few in the 700’s. We are interested much more in how well you do your academic work and in your abilities and interests in other fields. A good musician or hockey player or mountain climber with a 480 score and an honor list record may be admitted, while a greasy grind with a 700+ score who does 55
