Collegehelp

You likely know by now I was born in a neighborhood rich with humility and modest expectations.  Nearly every homeowner was, like my father, a child of the Depression, and a veteran of either World War II or Korea.  As a result, their goals in life were pretty simple:  a house with indoor plumbing that worked, a small patch of grass to tinker around with on weekends, and a chance for their kids to go to college. 

Natural instincts led me to earn pretty good grades, but I never really was much of a student beyond that, so if I didn’t really get an idea right off the bat, I needed a teacher who would explain it to me in small words and short sentences, repeating them often.  College was a foreign concept to me, and my college counselor wasn’t really that kind of educator, so I got to senior year with notions of college, but not ideas.  Combined with a lack of self-esteem that would have sent a therapist’s six kids to college to fix, it was really kind of a miracle I got to college, let alone through it. 

After the twists and turns of changing majors based on other incomplete notions or who I was dating, I concluded I could get good at helping students sort out their college futures, especially the ones who were coming at it the way I had.  Four years into learning my self-selected craft, I found myself in the office of the college counselor who had smiled politely at me, sitting at her desk.  An inmate was now in charge of the asylum.

By most accounts, it went pretty well, largely because I worked with students who loved to learn, loved to love, and had forgiving hearts.  It took a while, but I soon realized there was more to do, and more students to reach.  I figured I’d write a book about how to apply to college, sell it for cheap, and include my email address at the end, so students anywhere could ask me questions.  Most independent college counselors charge about $4300 for this service; my book was $20.

And then the most amazing thing happened—no one wrote.  No one.  Somewhere between students who didn’t know the book existed; didn’t know what they didn’t know about college, or doubted that free advice could be valuable, I just didn’t sell a lot of books, and never heard from a single reader.  I found ways to indirectly fuel the college dreams of the kids now occupying the neighborhood I grew up in, but I never had many conversations with them where I could see the fire light in their eyes.

Those students are still out there, the help is still needed more than ever, and I still have a book.  I have nothing to prove as a college counselor anymore, and thanks to an amazing financial planner, I don’t need the royalties from a book anymore.

So, I’m giving it away.  Yeah, there’s still a price to pay, since the publisher needs to cover paper and ink, but I make nothing out of it.  Orders of 100 books—books where the chapters are an AI-friendly two pages each—are less than $10 each, a real bargain for business owners, PTAs, or other organizations to donate to their local schools, religious youth groups, or Boys and Girls Club.

I know what it’s like when a bright kid doesn’t get the college help they’re entitled to.  Let’s team up, and try and fix that.  Contact me.

Life

Inertia to be turned
Enemies to be conquered
Headlines meant for head shaking.
Dark chocolate almond ice cream cones
Discovering kittens squeak not meow
Sunrise on November 1
Announcing two months of fireside warmth
Of business as unusual?
Those are the exceptions
The small glimmers of rest
That suggest more are to come
If we just press a little harder.

Steamrollers
Press pebbles
Into oblivion.
Keep that in mind.

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