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    Growing Ivy: From small town public school to Harvard University, two times in a row. One family’s story of how to bat a thousand in the Ivy League.
    Growing Ivy: From small town public school to Harvard University, two times in a row. One family’s story of how to bat a thousand in the Ivy League.
    Growing Ivy: From small town public school to Harvard University, two times in a row. One family’s story of how to bat a thousand in the Ivy League.
    Ebook155 pages2 hours

    Growing Ivy: From small town public school to Harvard University, two times in a row. One family’s story of how to bat a thousand in the Ivy League.

    By Theodore Arndt

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Theodore Arndt's book Growing IVY shares the secrets parents need to know to prepare their children for a chance at the IVY League. This book is a parent's road-map for the journey from early parenthood, through the public school system and into the gates of the greatest and most competitive educational institutions in the world.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHillcrest Media Group
    Release dateMay 29, 2015
    ISBN9781634135696
    Growing Ivy: From small town public school to Harvard University, two times in a row. One family’s story of how to bat a thousand in the Ivy League.

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      Book preview

      Growing Ivy - Theodore Arndt

      family.

      Forward

      Growing Ivy is a roadmap for admission to Harvard. Composed of cradle to gate vignettes themed for significant milestones in the lives of two Harvard siblings, the book is a chronology of the makings of the kinds of students an Ivy League school is looking for. What makes the book a compelling read however, isn’t that it describes how both of these kids were accepted to the most highly regarded university in the world, it is that it provides the developmental perspective of how they did it as the kids of a solidly middle class family from a small town public school system. In this regard it is a modern Horatio Alger story: one where the good guys won; twice in a row. There were no fancy prep schools, no donation of a new wing to the science center. Growing Ivy is a story that is fun and believable, and readers, especially young parents, will want to find the parallels between their experiences and the milestones described within.

      There are other readers with whom this book will resonate as well: the parents of strong academic students in grades seven through twelve. Many of these folks are looking for the edge that will increase the odds one of these prestigious institutions will give their child the nod. The parents of high performing students both in America and abroad will be interested in the tips provided in Growing Ivy because they will see them collectively as an attainable, common sense approach to helping their child stand out in a crowd of stand-outs. In simplest terms, Growing Ivy summarizes a path to that competitive edge that parents of the strongest students need to achieve, and unlike the typical college admissions book, it provides that edge through a short and entertaining story, far more like a beach read than a dry how-to manual.

      Finally, the stories and anecdotes described within the pages of Growing Ivy may inspire people to consider thinking outside the box as they raise their children. In fact, it was these kids’ conventional limitations that compelled their family to seek opportunities where they might actually have a real chance to excel, and because of this, their confidence grew and grew.

      Prologue

      So why am I writing this book? It really started about twenty years ago, though at the time I really didn’t know it HAD started. In fact, at the time, it felt far more like an ending. In 1995, after Libby and I had our first kid, I remember thinking, Why did I ever agree to do this to myself? I looked at our new little cherub Jocelyn as the cause of a serious cramp in what I thought was a pretty refined style. I was working as an offshore sailor for British Petroleum. I would drive tankers out of Valdez, Alaska to all corners of the world, and then, after I’d made enough money, I’d come home for a break of three or four months. Libby and I would spend and play and then play some more. Then, when the company called, I’d repeat the ship-home cycle. This was the perfect life for the self-absorbed person I was; I had a wonderful wife, a house on the water (complete with a dock out back) and enough money to buy all the things I needed (mainly beer and fishing gear) to make any male narcissist more than proud.

      You know, now that I think of it, this mess actually started even earlier than 1995. It must have really begun way back in 1990 when I was lucky enough to persuade Libby to agree to marry me. I’m pretty sure it was the setting (a beautiful spring weekend in San Francisco) and the alcohol (Anchor Steam Brewing Company is just inside the Golden Gate) that did the trick. But whatever: once Libby committed, I knew it was for keeps. I also knew, though I didn’t really register at the time, that at the core of my new wife’s existence were, at the very least, two smiling kids. Sure they were a dream in the fog at the time, but as a sailor I should have known the fog held dangerous elements that could change fortunes of faster than one can scream, REEF AHEAD! As I said, I SHOULD have known, but I’m a lot less intelligent than many believe me to be. After all, I have two kids at Harvard, right? Wait... what? Two kids at HARVARD?! As in the most competitive and most recognized institute of higher learning in the entire WORLD? Yup. That’s me. The one with the ivy covered family. I am a self-absorbed, bull-headed man who achieved a 3.0 at a state school. But even so, through a set of repeatable circumstances described herein, my wife and I managed to use the public school system and the benefits of a small rural community as springboards to propel both of our kids through the Harvard gates (and Yale’s too, if you want to get technical). I should qualify this: my wife did most of the heavy lifting here. But between the two of us we defeated some pretty ridiculous odds in the higher-ed department. Even though I was at the start a begrudging participant, we structured our lives around our two kids and built a long-term plan that ended in success. There were no prep-schools, no great athletic pedigrees, no gimmicks and no tricks. But there was always a PLAN: at first a simple one, more a dream or a thought, but it built upon itself and gave Libby and me direction. Our master plan allowed us to envision the structure that helped our kids to flourish, even in a rural town in the depths of economic recession. And the best part is, they didn’t do it by being cut-throat or egocentric. In fact, they did it simply because they always believed anything is possible with hard work and respect. So, yes, my kids made it to Harvard and yes, I intend to tell you how it can happen for other families. But if I thought, by doing so I’d be helping to create a batch of uber-competitive future-turds, I’d never even try to put these words on paper. What follows is a detailed description of a Harvard admissions plan that worked... two times in a row.

      The book is laid out in a roughly chronological order, and each vignette has a Harvard Investment Tip (HIT) number to make it easier to go back and review anything of interest. Though each HIT includes personal elements and anecdotes which are obviously singular and un-repeatable, the overall theme and worth of our efforts is, for the right family, very replicable. So if you want to invest early in your kid’s play for an Ivy League school, you may want to work your way through the following pages. Libby and I hope that as the dust settles, we will hear of other kids, from all walks of life, who have achieved their academic dreams after our writing has in some way touched their family. And I sincerely hope you enjoy the read!

      Harvard Investment Tip# 1: Believe in yourself, not in the selection process.

      So why was it so important for our family to place the kids in an Ivy school? The truth is, it was important, but more as a dream than a goal. I guess the difference for us was that, unlike a goal you set for yourself, where you get frustrated along the way, we were always compelled to keep the doors open with regard to everything the kids took on, and as long as they didn’t slam shut, we could still dream and dream and dream. So there wasn’t any down-side to our Ivy gambit because, like all dreams, we knew it was a long-shot. There were no family expectations of astronomic academic achievement, no pressure to impress the grandparents and no occupational requirements for our kids. It was going to be fairly easy for either of my kids to top my college career, a killer 3.0 at a state college, so no pressure there either. With mom it was pretty much the same. It’s easy to feel good about a lottery ticket when you haven’t scratched it off yet, and that’s how we saw the kids.

      Over the years, even as their academic achievements were piling up, we never really thought an Ivy would take them seriously. We always wanted success for Jocelyn and Chris, but we dared not mention the H word until very late in the process. And we also didn’t know until Jocelyn’s junior year of the huge financial benefit of a successful campaign for one of these elite schools. If I had known, I may have stewed on things a bit more.

      I remember one evening at our home when Jocelyn was an eighth grader. We had just had a big blow-out with two members of the kid’s band (yes, both kids were in a rock band... more on that later). It was over money. I remember the mom of one of the other kids saying to me her son wanted to get paying gigs and that the free stuff wasn’t cutting it. I, on the other hand, wanted exposure shows, and a lot of them (I’m all about live music). I managed the band and the kinds of shows I’d been booking were all crowd, no money. Seriously, having a bunch of newly-minted teenagers playing in a smoky bar on a school night didn’t seem like an ideal option at the time. At some point, I guess I suggested this mom was delusional if she thought the kids could make lots of money with their just-barely-post-pubescent band. Well, she may have been a bit offended by that and things just got worse from there. At one point this power mom yelled at me, Are you kidding? My kid’s going to Harvard! I can still clearly recall my comment after she dropped the H bomb: Sue, my kids are at the top of their class, and they’re NOT going to Harvard! Yes, it was pretentious, and no, I’m not proud of my half of the dialogue, but

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