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Allison O'Brien
Whitney Gilchrist
11 February 2017
Literacy Narrative

Choosing Florida State University as my home for the next 4 years of my life was the
simplest decision I have ever made. Unlike choosing between pancakes and waffles on a Sunday
morning, this was easy. For once, my mind was completely made up. As a young 11th grader who
knew nothing of what I wanted to do with my life, I went on college tour with my high school. As
a stubborn person, I was pretty much closed-minded towards all other colleges except the
University of Central Florida.
We boarded the bus before the sun was up and started our 3-hour ride from Ft.
Lauderdale to Orlando. I had thought I only dozed off as my Drake playlist was on shuffle but I
had awakened to an abrupt stop and the bright Florida sun in my eyes. We had made it to
Orlando. Our group of about 75 young and eager high schoolers got off of the bus after about 20
minutes and once the excitement of our arrival died down we began our tour of this ginormous
campus. UCF has the second largest student body in the country, with a campus size to match.
UCF stretched for miles, it took our group at least an hour to get halfway across the campus. In
all honesty I didnt actually like UCF that much, it was too big and non-personal. When we
visited that campus I felt like I was just a number. 1 in 68,000. I didnt see how a single person
like me could ever matter in a school with so many people who are all just alike. I just thought
since my boyfriend at the time liked that school, that I would like it too; thank goodness I
knocked myself out of that phase and didnt bank everything in that school or relationship.
After what felt like an eternity trekking through UCF, we did eventually say our
goodbyes to Orlando and make the 4-hour bus ride from Orlando to Tallahassee. The bus was
loud and bumpy, making for a very fun and comfortable trip! I had obnoxious boys to the right of
me, yelling and talking over one another about sports and ESPN while to the left of me I had the
ever so pleasurable repetitive smacking of my head into the bus window as I tried to lean against
it to sleep. It was a long ride. An eternity and a half later, we were in the states capital. The
moment I stepped off of that bus was the moment that my life changed forever.
The air was different here. It felt like that gasp you take after youve been under the water
in the pool for too long. Refreshing. Essential. Pure. The mid- November chill was such a
pleasant change from the constant heat of South Florida, where it was summer year-round. It was
a change that I would be eager to embrace; I longed for actual seasons and the ability to dress and
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layer in cute clothing for the cold weather. I fell more and more in love with the campus the
deeper we walked into it. It is truly inexplicable how the brick on the buildings here made me feel
like I belonged. Like I was home.
College tour was that push of motivation that I needed to get serious about school again
and redeem my GPA. I didnt live up to my full academic potential during my freshman year of
high school; I was going through the denial phase of my parents separation and I didnt take
school as seriously as I really should have because I honestly didnt give a shit about it. After my
parents split, my mom emailed all of my teachers to let them know what was going on at home (I
know, I know I shouldve been a big girl and contacted my teachers myself but I was still
relatively young so I just let my mommy do it for me). For the most part all of my teachers cut
me slack, except for one: Mr. Pillinger. Mr. Pillinger was the most self-important ass-hat I have
ever had the displeasure of spending 60 minutes with on a daily basis. He very well knew the
emotionally fragile state that I was in and he still continued to pick on me in class, calling on me
when I clearly didnt know the answer and threatening to call my mom because I didnt finish all
of my homework. Please, call my mother. Tell her I say hello. When he wasnt spending his time
in class preying on those much younger than him, he was telling pointless and never-ending
stories about his days of flying airplanes. I vividly remember staring at the clock and watching
each pain staking tick go by as I longed for the bell. How these story times pertained to 1 st
level algebra, Ill never know, but what I do know is Mr. Pillingers extensive adult career as a
member of the air force and his undying love for aviation. I mean thanks for your service dude,
but I despise you so I could not care less.
In order to even have a shot of being admitted to FSU, I knew that I would have to retake
this algebra class. In high school you get one forgiveness class as a free pass in case you really
mess up. If you dont know then now you know (that was a Drake Star67 reference). My
guidance office was not very forth coming with the details of our entitlement. We had the right to
this one free pass, but my schools guidance was too lazy to set it up for you, you had to bother
them and work the information out of them. I can remember the numerous amounts of emails sent
back and forth between my guidance counselor, Ms. Pepe, and I, trying to set this online class up.
Eventually, the vice principal had to get involved just to finalize this disaster. I retook my math
class online, spending my whole summer after my junior year and the 1 st quarter into senior year
working all of these extra hours to get my grade, and I got the A that I deserved, proving to my
less than qualified freshman year teacher that yes, I do know how to do algebra and no, I never
actually cared about your class-time stories about how you used to fly airplanes. This was only
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the beginning to all of the fun schoolwork that I was about to submerse myself in for most of my
waking hours of my senior year!
I had taken the SAT junior year, pretty much winging it just to see what I knew versus
what I didnt. I knew the score range that FSU accepted was above what I had earned. My cousin,
who was a couple of years older than me, had recommended her old tutor, Monica. A tall and
blonde woman in her 40s, she was way over-priced, but she did certainly teach me tips and tricks
to maximize my score, without her, I wouldnt have raised my score well over 200 points.
Although this achievement was great, it wasnt enough.
After weeks of tutoring sessions and 2 additional attempts at the SAT, the first round of
decisions in December rolled around. There was so much angst surrounding this day that I found
it hard to breathe, as did thousands of other kids who were all vying for one of only a couple
thousand spots. There are between 8 and 9 thousands applicants for the freshman class each year,
while there are only 2 thousand spots. Anyone can look at those numbers and feel intimidated. It
was a Wednesday, so of course all of the hopeful Seminoles were in school counting down the
seconds on the clock until late afternoon, when decisions were supposed to come out. It was
senior year, so teachers didnt expect much out of us as the class of 2016 all suffered from
senioritis. (Senioritis, snyrds: the loss of motivation by 12 th graders to do any schoolwork
during their last year of high school. Yes, senioritis is extremely real.) But on decision day, they
were lucky that we even showed up to their class at all. The hours rolled by, 4 oclock, 5 oclock,
6 oclock all came as painstakingly slow as they went. By 8 oclock one could definitely assume
it was past late afternoon. The amount of times that I refreshed the FSU admissions page could
have crashed the site on its own. The schools admissions twitter page finally sent out a tweet that
there were technical difficulties, but the decisions would be out as soon as possible. Like that
wasnt already obvious you guys are having technical difficulties, I figured, now tell me
something I dont already know, like AM I ADMITTED OR NOT?
It was unfair because access to the page was available to some people, but not all. I kept
seeing people announcing their acceptances on twitter and it made me even more anxious. I tried
accessing from my computer, my phone, my moms computer, my moms phone. Nothing. By 11
oclock I was on the verge of insanity until I had a friend tell me that I could call the admissions
office, since they had stayed open due to their mistake, and have them tell me my decision over
the phone. Instantly I shakily dialed the number and my call was answered right away. I gave the
woman my information, said a silent prayer and awaited her response. I didnt get in.
The woman on the phones exact response was something along the lines of Your
admissions page is saying you were actually deferred, meaning we just dont know yet and you
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are going to have to wait until final decisions in March. I was so upset because this was
definitely not how I wanted things to work out, I didnt even say goodbye because my throat was
too filled with tears to even be able to choke out a single word.
A full week passed before I came to terms with my deferral. But once I found myself
again, I realized that I am Allison OBrien, and it takes a lot more than a silly deferral to get me
down. I wasnt denied, they just wanted to see more from me. Id just have to do better. I was
more motivated than ever to get a higher score and finally receive my acceptance. I went back to
my tutor, practicing as much as humanly possible. Im not even slightly exaggerating when I say
this. You could place bets on where I was every Wednesday at 5:30Panera Bread, 3rd booth on
the right, you were certain to find my tutor and I going over the riddles of questions that were
called the SAT. If I wasnt with my tutor, doing my homework for school or working, I was most
likely studying for the SAT, trying to retain as many tips as possible to be able to decode the
deceiving questions that these College Board executives have the nerve to put on this exam, and
moreover, have the audacity to call it a measurement of our knowledge.
All of the pressure that I was putting on myself to excel in school and in the way of
standardized testing was really getting to me. I would be up until 2 or 3 in the morning practicing
for this exam because I was too worried and stressed out to rest. My mom used to yell at me for
not doing my homework or studying, but now she was telling me to turn it down a notch and take
a break. In all honesty, from January to March I barely slept. Sleep is for the weak anyway, right?
After I had taken my last standardized test, I felt so at peace. I was so over the SAT that I
almost didnt even care what my score was. Almost. All I could do was wait. Waiting for
decisions to come out again was so much worse than putting in all of the hard work and studying
because everything was completely out of my control; the next four years of my life was in the
hands of a complete stranger in the admissions office.
March 16th was the day that was always in the somewhat near future but felt like it would
never actually arrive- but it finally came around. I was too nervous to sleep the night before,
making the day of waiting ahead that much longer. Much like the first time way back in
December, I had to go to school and sit through class, anxiously refreshing the schools webpage
as often as possible. All of my friends knew that today was the day, adding that much more
pressure on me. What if I didnt get in? What if all of my hard work was for nothing?
It was about 3:30 in the afternoon, I had just gotten home from school and my anxiety
was through the roof. I looked on Twitter, as I usually do after school, and I saw that other
students were posting about their acceptances. I was almost expecting another fiasco with the
decisions. But not this time, they were here. This was the moment I have been waiting for, the
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moment that all of my hard work was dedicated to, but more than anything I wanted it all to go
away. I wanted to scream, or runaway or take a nap, or all of the above. But I couldnt, it was
time to face the music and accept what was meant to be, whether I liked it or not. My hands were
instantly clammy and shaky as I immediately refreshed the schools admissions webpage. A
strong feeling of Dj vu came over me as it took what seemed like an eternity to reload. I was
met with my decision. The past 4 months of my life all came down to this sentence: After
reviewing your file, Florida State University would like to offer you admission for the Spring
2017 semester.
What was that supposed to mean? I was so confused. I read the sentence again. And then
again. I mean I wasnt denied, I did in fact get accepted into FSU- but it wasnt conventional.
This should have been a happy moment but instead all that I felt was intense sadness. Why?
was the only word that escaped my lips. Being admitted for spring would mean that I wasnt
technically a student until after the summer and fall semesters. I hated this because I was going to
miss so much, meeting other people in their first semester of college, football games, everything.
This was a bittersweet moment, part of me wanted to jump for joy at my acceptance while
another part of me wanted to crawl into a hole and cry my weight in tears.
I called the admissions office searching for answers to the hundreds of questions that I
had. All I got out of the phone call was spring admissions are based upon demographics and
scores and there is nothing we can do for you. I almost screamed. I couldnt believe that this
man on the phone in the admissions office had the audacity to sit there and talk to me like I was
an idiot, as if their motives werent transparent. Essentially what they were telling me was, since
my mother makes a certain amount of money, I was being lumped together with the spring admits
so that they could fit their quota (this is what I inferred from the conversation, this was obviously
not admitted in this many words), genius. It was completely unfair. I had higher test scores than
people, who were accepted into FSU for the summer semester, that I personally know with a
lower income than my family; not to mention I had the SAME EXACT score as students who
were getting accepted into UF (a Florida university that has a lower acceptance rate).
It was heartbreaking because my accomplishments felt devalued based upon
demographics; what the admissions office failed to factor into my scenario was the cost of living
for a single parent, but of course they are never wrong and decisions are final! All of the hard
work that I had put in up to this moment felt invalidated. Who gave some administrator in the
admissions office the right to judge me and the effort I had put forth based upon income?
Nevertheless, I accepted my offer without a second thought because I knew, regardless of anyone
elses doubts in me, that this was where I was meant to be.
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It was definitely a long journey for me- one that I wasnt sad to see come to an end. Even
through the messiness of the whole situation, I felt a weight fall off of my shoulders. I could
finally breathe easily, and the air tasted like relief. I know that it was less than perfect, and I
busted my ass to make it happen, but all of that aside, I can look back and say it wasnt easy, but
I did it and know in my heart that I earned my acceptance and I deserved it in every way
possible. And nobody will ever be able to take that away from me.