and the spring of 2003 was no different. The lawns were thawing, green shoots pushing through soft, muddy earth. The daffodils had already come and gone, but the tulips were beginning to erupt in every Pantone shade. While many couldn’t wait for the hot, long days of summer, swimming in neighbor’s pools and listening to so many humming lawn mowers, Holly didn’t care much about this summer. Instead, she had her sights on October.
Holly had spent the past 18 months revising, perfecting, and curating the most compelling works for work for her portfolio. She was a passionate and talented artist, and had always dreamed of moving out of her small 2,000-person town, nestled in the heart of the state. No one in her family had ever gone to college, but as she approached the end of high school, she knew she wanted to pursue a college degree. She wanted to become an animator and work for a renown firm – maybe even Disney or Pixar.
Holly’s guidance counsellors were supportive, but they didn’t have much information on how to get into art school. They were mostly concerned with making sure graduates had a plan for after high school – whether to go off to college or to go work on their family’s farm. She and her family did as much research as they could, looking at art schools in nearby cities. She also thought about Penn State University, as the campus was close enough that she could stay living with her parents.
After submitting her application, Holly’s family drove her the several hours to Pittsburgh so she could tour the campus and speak with her admissions counselor. Nervously sitting in the Admissions Office waiting room, her large portfolio neatly leaning against her chair’s legs, she felt extremely out of place. I don’t belong here, she thought.
Finally, a woman walked up and called her name. It was a familiar voice – they had spoken on the phone before, but this was the first time they were meeting in person. The recognizeable, friendly tone made her slightly less anxious as they walked back toward her office.
The counselor looked at each of her pieces, which included paintings, charcoal drawings, and sculptures. Holly felt her heart skipping painfully as she waited for counselor to say something. But she only hummed indecipherably as she looked carefully at each sample. After several word-free moments, Holly felt herself deflate slightly. This counselor is too quiet. I’m not getting in.
Wringing her hands to try to warm them from a cold sweat, she waited for the blow.
“Well,” began the counselor, “Your portfolio is extremely impressive.” Holly just stared back, paralyzed in utter confusion. The counselor smiled wide, sparkling teeth reflecting flourescent light. “You are an exceptional candidate. I’m a bit in awe, to be honest.”
The counselor then stood up and peeked into the neighboring cubicle, holding one of Holly’s very favorite pieces. She showed it to her colleague, and they each glowed about her obvious talent.
Once the fawning subsided, the counselor sat back down and looked Holly in the eye. “Your application is still in review, but I feel confident when I say that we can’t wait to have you join us next fall.”