The fat envelope

When I was applying for college, admissions counselors, fellow applicants, parents, and teachers often made jokes about "the fat envelope." I'm not sure if this is already an obsolete reference. I imagine that rising postal costs, the strain the recession has put on even wealthy schools, and the ever growing access to the Internet in this country may have already transformed those huge orientation packets into one "Congratulations! Please click on the following hyperlink to accept your offer of admission," e-mail. In any case, I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to expect as a potential graduate student. Do you get giant admissions packets? Do you get e-mails? Do you get anything???

Two weeks ago I received an e-mail that I ignored for two days. The e-mail was from the department at the school that I hope to study at in Toronto. The sender was one of the admissions counselors, a name that was completely unrecognizable and completely ordinary to me, like "Sally Jones" or something similar. The "subject" field looked something like this- "RARU* would like to invite you to..." and then because I was reading it on my Device,** the rest of the subject disappeared. I've been receiving periodic e-mails that start like this, usually just announcements about fun and interesting events on a campus eight hours away from my home. Two days after receiving this e-mail I decided to finally open it, as depressed as it might make me about not living in Canada yet.

"Congratulations!" The e-mail said, "RARU is excited to offer you admission into the XYZ M.ed. Program for Fall of 2012. THIS IS NOT AN OFFICIAL OFFER OF ADMISSION. This means that you have been recommended for admission by..."

And it went on, describing how I've been recommended by the admissions committee of the institute within the university that I applied to, that the graduate school admissions committee of the entire university still has to approve my admission, but that this almost always happens and I should go to Toronto in a week to check out the program. There was going to be an open house, wine and cheese in the library, and a chance to meet with fellow applicants. Also it was on a Tuesday in the middle of a workweek, directed at applicants who already work in education, which makes no sense to me whatsoever. But I decided to go anyway- this took place last week.

I called in sick for work for two days, which was both easier and more difficult than I had anticipated. Every night before I go to bed I threaten to call in sick to work the next day. The next day, no matter what, I always go to work. I'm just afraid of my principal. I'm afraid she's going to show up at my house later and judge me not sick enough and punish me somehow. I was covered in open poison ivy sores on more than 70% of my body this fall, wrapped up almost completely in gauze, and I still tried to go to work, just because I was afraid of my principal punishing me for not being sick enough. So calling in sick to work when I clearly was not only not sick, but IN ANOTHER FUCKING COUNTRY, was incredibly bold of me.

"I can't come to work," I said, "I'm throwing up a lot."
"OK," said the principal. It was 6:30 in the morning.
"I mean I'm really sick," I said, "Also I have a fever."
"OK," she said and hung up. We repeated the same ritual the next day. I am so afraid of that woman.

Anyway, after going to this orientation, which clearly convinced me that I'd like to do this program, and also that it has serious organization failures and I will never ever get a job ever for the rest of my life, I went back home. I can't begin the process of moving to Canada until I have an official offer of admission. So every day I've been scanning the mailbox as I walk to my front porch. Does it look like it's bulging a lot today? Is there a giant envelope refusing to allow the top of the box to close? Today I pulled the mail out and found a tiny little envelope from the institute housing the program that I applied for.

I ran to the kitchen table, dropped the rest of the mail into a pile, and ripped into the envelope. It contained two rejection letters.

Not one. Two.

"I didn't get into Canada!" I said to my roommate, who was watching a musical episode of Xena: Warrior Princess.

"Weird," he said, "Wait, didn't you get into that program already?"

This is when I began to anticipate every single conversation I would have for the rest of my life.

"I thought you went to Canada"
"Well I thought I got into this program and then I didn't."
"Weird. They can do that?"
"Well..." And so it would continue.

But then I looked again. It turns out I was rejected from two programs. Two programs I had not even really applied for. On the application, I was asked which program I was applying for. Then I was asked to choose two other programs I might be interested in. I took the ones with the longest titles. I literally put no thought into my other two choices. And, accordingly, I had been denied admission to both.

But not to the third program. Meaning the first program. Meaning the program I actually applied for. That was not in that envelope. So that must mean that I did get in, and that information will be enclosed in a forthcoming envelope.

THAT IS TO SAY, BE SURE YOU READ THE ENTIRE LETTER BEFORE READJUSTING YOUR LIFE PLANS.

So far, the whole process strikes me as a bit sadistic.




*OBVIOUSLY FAKE INITIALS HERE

*"Device" refers to my Galaxy Android tablet computer. I call it my Device because I can never remember what the damn thing is called or even what kind of technology it is. It's not a computer. It's not an iPad. It's not an mp3 player. It's not a freaking CD player. WHAT THE HELL IS IT????