Admissions Office Records by Andy Reuss

The following story was found among the many records of the Hillsdale Admissions Office. Dated Wednesday, 17 October 2012, it is an account of an exchange between a soon-after fired student ambassador and a prospective student and his parents. Reader discretion advised.

I knew to pay attention the moment I heard his voice echo through the 2nd floor hallway of Strosacker. One part soothing or irritating, three parts obnoxious or sensuous, the first thing it announced to my ears was the proclamation “Hey! You look like you could cook some meth!”
The uncomfortable chuckle that followed gave me the confirmation I needed: he was giving a tour.
Two ruddy-faced adults and one wide-eyed young man rounded the corner, appearing next to the straight-laced and well-intentioned tour guide.
“So you mean to say that these classes are only taught in order to train classical and charter school science teachers?” asked the woman, as she happily nudged her son and nodded his way.
“Oh yes! Hillsdale’s charter school initiative is taking off across the nation, and the demand for liberally educated teachers is quickly growing! A foundation in our western heritage and American exceptionalism is essential to a well-rounded teacher, and a rudimentary grasp of science or something like it is very helpful to that goal.”
Concerned, the young man glanced skeptically towards the open lab door, and pointed at the students working at the station: “You mean to tell me that they aren’t actually doing research, but are simply preparing for teaching careers as elementary school science teachers?”
“Exactly! Now you’re getting it. Part of the stated purpose of the founders of the college was ‘to furnish all persons who wish, irrespective of nation, color, or sex, a literary and scientific education.’ Why do you think original scientific research would be a component of the mission of the college?”
Dumbstruck, the prospective could do nothing but stare at the ambassador, who continued to blunder along when he said, “A little bit of history for you all: Strosacker, this building, was actually built in the 1960’s. Now, you’ve probably made the connection: it’s no coincidence that it was built near the period of the sexual revolution. It seems our college was not immune to the cultural indecency that swept across the nation.”
The walrus-stached father piped in, “So why is it still standing? I mean, it seems that if it were to be removed, the opportunity for such meaningless studies would be removed too. More students might be turned from frivolous sciences and choose the humanities instead.”
“That’s a great question. Personally, I still hold out hope that the building will be razed and the Liberty Walk extended, perhaps with a statue of William Jennings Bryan or the like. And, if you promise not to tell anyone I told you so, rumor has it that the greenhouse might be sold to Saga and used to grow coffee beans to fuel the English and Philosophy departments!”
“Now young man, I recall that you said you are a sophomore here. What did you say your major is?”
“Politics, ma’am. I’m a Politics major, I plan to go to law school, and with my liberal arts education and legal expertise, I will bring down the debaucherous Progressive regime that has a stranglehold on the noble American people.”
The mother could hardly contain herself as a small cheer escaped her lips, and the father teared up as he tried not to clap.
The son began to laugh.
Appearing slightly confused, the ambassador took the laugh to indicate support and proceeded to join in, before he began to lead the family out the doors.

“Anyway, we’ll head over to where true academics take place, Kendall.” F
Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s