The REAL college process
By Rachel Levin, Copy Editor
Every year from November to January, Samo suffers the loss of strong, beautiful seniors to the wretched college process. The mysterious “universities” that perpetuate the process have been a scourge for years, sucking up students in their glorious jaws and keeping them hostage for four years, only to spit them back out into the equally mysterious “workforce.” They have always seemed godlike, but this application season, one brave reporter—yours truly—will put herself through this grueling process to investigate, and report to you, faithful readers, what I find.
You may have heard of a place called the College Center on the Samo campus—it is a room hidden deep in the dark mazes of the Business Building, waiting patiently for unsuspecting students to enter. If there are any freshmen reading this, I envy your virgin eyes. On the other side of the seemingly innocent double doors lies a cesspool of paperwork, high walls that prevent escape and dark rooms containing archivists of nefarious wisdom. That last part is actually quite nice, the counselors really have some interesting things to say. The rest of it though—evil. Absolutely, unequivocally, no exaggerations, evil.
This next bit is not an exaggeration, though. The rooms accessible to the public are not the end of the College Center! To the right of the front desk there lies a mysterious otherworldly portal. Well, I say portal, it’s really more of a door. To get inside you must perform a series of humiliating tests, like talking to adults and admitting that you failed the practice SAT. I, of course, passed with flying colors. Also, a janitor handed me a key while I was there attempting to break in. Thank you Mr. Jones.
Now, this room is my most concrete evidence for the evil of the college process. It is filled with burning fires, nonsensical scribbles and vials of liquid, no doubt meant for nefarious purposes. Some sources tell me these are scented candles, motivational posters and Gatorade, and that this secret room is actually a break room for the staff in the College Center. I refuse to believe this. It looks like some sort of satanic ritual to me.
Now, I must admit, I am still a junior and therefore cannot truly experience the horrors of the college process. My simulation is practically perfect, though, so don’t worry. I’ve heard stories from seniors, told around the campfire, passed on from ear-to-ear on the blacktop. Some have said the so-called “CommonApp” has terrible hypnotic powers. I have obtained a quote from a survivor, who preferred to remain anonymous.
“No, it was fine actually. The CommonApp actually made it a lot easier,” my source said.
Just as I suspected. “A lot easier” must actually mean “scrambled my brain like eggs” because, from what I’ve heard, the college process is anything but simple. It is an insidious virus that crawls in through your ears and makes its way to your brain, convincing you that higher education is “valuable” or “actually enjoyable once you get to choose what you study” or “really not that challenging, Rachel, I think you’re being a bit dramatic.” Balderdash, I say, balderdash! Luckily, I have gotten my hands on a bona fide copy of this “CommonApp” and will be taking it myself, under strict supervision, of course. I live to serve, readers, and this will be your first entree. Wish me luck.
I have come to apologize. I just completed the CommonApp and it did not scramble my brain like eggs, nor did it hypnotize me in any way. It was pretty freaking boring, but that was the worst of it. I may have slightly overestimated the supernatural abilities of this form. Also, I had to get it signed in the College Center, and Ms. Honda gave me a vial of that strange liquid. It was Gatorade, and it was actually quite refreshing.