[pefloresjr]

I grew up in the southern part of this fine state in a working class family so I didn’t know much about Stanford.  I knew it had a great academic reputation and that it was the best school on the West Coast.  I only applied to four schools:  Stanford, UCB, San Diego State, and West Point.  SDSU was my safety because it was cheap and would be fun.  West Point was my other safety because it would be even cheaper, but would not be fun. 

Stanford was my early first choice simply because it was the best school by reputation.  It became my dream school when I sent away for the application packet.  Stanford’s materials were all just so beautiful and interesting and cool.  Even the application made it very clear that they were looking for interesting people and stories, not just scores on an admissions grid.  I wanted to be part of whatever it was that Stanford had. 

My high school only had one AP class, so a few of us were allowed to take some classes at UC Riverside during senior year.  As a result, I was a transfer applicant to UCB.  I got admitted early and even got a Regent’s scholarship guaranteeing me on-campus housing.  I was a lock at SDSU and got accepted at West Point.  I chose West Point because I wasn’t sure my family with nine kids could afford to send me to any college.  Two of my brothers were in the service (Army and Marines) and poor Mexican kids from Riverside don’t know if anything else will be a legitimate option.  The recruiter from West Point was giving me all kinds of love/pressure to accept “the appointment to the academy.”  But I was holding out for Stanford.

One day in early April 1982, the two other kids from my class who had applied to Stanford told me they got their rejection letters the day before.  I had not.  Was it a good sign or just the vagaries of the US Postal Service?  I didn’t have any expectation of getting in because unlike most California public high schools, nobody from my school had ever gone to Stanford.  I had to find out, so I walked home for lunch.  You can see the front of my house across an open field so I could see from a long way off that there was mail in the box.  I didn’t run and I didn’t slow down.  I just kept walking steady, trying to keep my heart from beating out of my chest, and not taking my eye off our mailbox.  When I pulled the mail out of the box, there was a fat envelope from Stanford.  I had to sit down to open it.  I read the acceptance and honestly thought that Dean Fred wrote “Great!” on it because he was particularly excited to welcome me to the Stanford family.  I know now that was not true, but going to Stanford included me in a family of people I never really believed I could join. 

Stanford gave me an even better financial aid offer than that silly Regent’s scholarship and I told the West Point recruiter that I could not accept the appointment because I was going to my first choice.  I haven’t regretted it for a single day. 

Cheers,
Pete F.

[pefloresjr]

I grew up in the southern part of this fine state in a working class family so I didn’t know much about Stanford.  I knew it had a great academic reputation and that it was the best school on the West Coast.  I only applied to four schools:  Stanford, UCB, San Diego State, and West Point.  SDSU was my safety because it was cheap and would be fun.  West Point was my other safety because it would be even cheaper, but would not be fun. 

Stanford was my early first choice simply because it was the best school by reputation.  It became my dream school when I sent away for the application packet.  Stanford’s materials were all just so beautiful and interesting and cool.  Even the application made it very clear that they were looking for interesting people and stories, not just scores on an admissions grid.  I wanted to be part of whatever it was that Stanford had. 

My high school only had one AP class, so a few of us were allowed to take some classes at UC Riverside during senior year.  As a result, I was a transfer applicant to UCB.  I got admitted early and even got a Regent’s scholarship guaranteeing me on-campus housing.  I was a lock at SDSU and got accepted at West Point.  I chose West Point because I wasn’t sure my family with nine kids could afford to send me to any college.  Two of my brothers were in the service (Army and Marines) and poor Mexican kids from Riverside don’t know if anything else will be a legitimate option.  The recruiter from West Point was giving me all kinds of love/pressure to accept “the appointment to the academy.”  But I was holding out for Stanford.

One day in early April 1982, the two other kids from my class who had applied to Stanford told me they got their rejection letters the day before.  I had not.  Was it a good sign or just the vagaries of the US Postal Service?  I didn’t have any expectation of getting in because unlike most California public high schools, nobody from my school had ever gone to Stanford.  I had to find out, so I walked home for lunch.  You can see the front of my house across an open field so I could see from a long way off that there was mail in the box.  I didn’t run and I didn’t slow down.  I just kept walking steady, trying to keep my heart from beating out of my chest, and not taking my eye off our mailbox.  When I pulled the mail out of the box, there was a fat envelope from Stanford.  I had to sit down to open it.  I read the acceptance and honestly thought that Dean Fred wrote “Great!” on it because he was particularly excited to welcome me to the Stanford family.  I know now that was not true, but going to Stanford included me in a family of people I never really believed I could join. 

Stanford gave me an even better financial aid offer than that silly Regent’s scholarship and I told the West Point recruiter that I could not accept the appointment because I was going to my first choice.  I haven’t regretted it for a single day. 

Cheers,
Pete F.