<p>D applied ED to her dream school. E-mails went out Friday night but as we are Orthodox Jews, computer was down for the Sabbath. Saturday, D waited for the mailman to see if he had an envelope for her. No envelope came in the mail.She was so disappointed she went to her room and cried. Sabbath ended about 5:30 pm, spouse was still at synagogue, and D asked in a small voice if she could check her e-mail. I was doing dishes and from a floor away (computer in “library”/office) she yelled for me to come quickly. She couldn’t speak but I read aloud the Congratulations e-mail. Then we both hugged, screamed, cried simultaneously. Only to reenact the scene when spouse returned from synagogue.</p>
<p>Her dream school is my alma mater; I think I was happier for her than for me! </p>
<p>Received a phone call on the way home from work from a friend, so I was chatting with her while I went into the house, sat down at the computer and checked email. The kid used the general household email address for notifications, so an email was there. I opened it and exclaimed: “OMG!” (The friend thought the house was on fire.)</p>
<p>The kid was at track practice and I had a meeting that evening, so I printed out the email and drove to the school. He was running laps, so as he went past, I handed him the sheet of paper. He did not break stride reading it. I heard a “Wow!” just before he went around the corner.</p>
<p>S had already received a couple of acceptances, which he was happy about, but hadn’t heard from his first choice. He’d been at school every night late in rehearsals, I asked him when something from them came in the mail if he wanted me to open it and let him know, he said “NO!”, he would open it when came when he got home. One day a small evelope from said school arrived , his dad and I also held it up to every available light source, couldn’t tell a thing. We laid it on the kitchen table. I notice both my husband and I would reguarly ■■■■■ through the kitchen and look at the letter on the kitchen table, as the evening wore on that small evelope took on super powers of attraction, by the time he got home from school, around 8:00 we were just sitting at the kitchen table staring at this magnetic envelope. He took one look at us then at the envelope, grabbed it, went into the living room, it was quiet, my husband reached for my hands across the table. Not only were we hoping for an acceptance, he also needed a good scholarship to make attendance possible. In what seemed like hours there was only silence from the other room then a huge “whoop!” he had acceptance and the good scholarship. All evening lots of hugs and smiles and phone calls to friends and family. Life is good!</p>
<p>Two Ds: D1 wears her emotions on her sleeve and D2 is the consummate stoic. Two years ago, D1 applied early to D2’s dream as her reach, got the decision e-mail, refused to open it for an hour, finally looked at it, saw she was in, screamed, ran across the room and collapsed face first on the sofa, sobbed uncontrollably for 10 minutes. So, fast forward to this March 31. D2 was out of town on a class trip and told us to call her with the news. We saw the e-mail at 5:00, read it - D2 was in at the same reach school as her sister. Overjoyed, we called her - she didn’t have her cell phone on. Thirty minutes later - called again - same result. At 6:00 we finally got through to D2 who said “Wow, no kidding? Cool.” I asked if she wanted to call her sister and she said “I’m at dinner with some friends right now, would you call her?” So I called D1 who was walking through the town just off campus and told her. Scream! Shriek! Uncontrollable sobbing! Then the sounds of other voices on the cell phone: “Are you OK?” “Do you need help?” “Do you need the police?” </p>
<p>D had given me permission to open the “skinny envelope”–she just didnt want to look at the rejection. I opened it up and asked her–“why would a school thats rejecting you be giving you $22,000/a year?” oh yah—screams
galore when we got the offer before the acceptance.</p>
<p>Annoncement had been put off first from Mon. to following Mon. S gave me his PW so I could check his e-mail during the day, to no avail. Finally, I was away at a conference with little or no cell phone service, but e-mail (not in room). I had checked e-mail at 5 p.m.–nothing–and went out to dinner. S & H found out about midnight and tried to call. Phone didn’t work but TM came through. I was desperate to scream/dance/celebrate and had no one to talk to. I tried several different locations in the room to call–nothing. I tried a phone card I carried it my wallet–it had expired. I tried a calling card that I used to use before cell phones that was in my wallet–it didn’t work either. I finally just dialed on the hotel phone, the heck with the cost. </p>
<p>Of course, there really wasn’t much to say. Details to follow… so we didn’t have much to say.</p>
<p>My kids got home from high school about three hours before I got home from work. They always got the mail first. They told me when I got home. There was no hoopla.</p>
<p>I am so happy that I asked all the parents and kids out there about this!!! I love reading about happy beginnings!</p>
<p>Incidentally, my youngest daughter, the new admittee, isn’t all that outwardly emotional. As she hit the floor I was screaming, “I told you that you would get in!!” And she was shaking. It was only then that I knew that she had truly cared and didn’t want to show us how much this meant to her.</p>
<p>If only the darn bottle open had been able to play the fight song…</p>
<p>It was a Saturday afternoon in late January and I was speaking at a library in a nearby town. My cell phone was off and I forgot to turn it on for the long drive home. When I arrived, my S and H greeted me at the door. That was odd. They had been trying to phone me, they said. That was really odd. S handed me a large envelope from his top choice school. I couldn’t comprehend it all. It was only January! We had NO idea this college notified some kids more than two months ahead of their April date. </p>
<p>Turns out H had handed the big envelop to S who put it down unopened, thinking it contained forms of some sort. By late January, we had been supplemented and applicationed and extra formed out. It was awhile later that he picked it up and saw the folder inside said: Welcome to the ___ Family!–then began leaving joyous messages for me on my turned off cell, which I never received. </p>
<p>We were so stunned we just looked at each other in amazement. And glee. We later learned the school notifies only those students who are finalists for their big merit scholarships so very early. Big happy hugs, but mostly shock!!</p>
<p>Thanks, Ellebud, for letting us share these great memories again.</p>
<p>Way back when, D1’s ED school had instituted a phone-in notification system the day that ED decisions were put into the snail mail. (no email system for applications or decisions then). You had to call after 5PM and wade through the voice mail system before you got the busy signal for the decision line or got through and found out if you were in or not. Since it was long distance we didn’t use the house phone but ran through about 50 calls on each family member’s cell phone before she got through. There was a recorded message “Welcome to the class of 20__”. She didn’t quit screaming for about 30 minutes, then called the GC at home, then the best friend (who had told her about the system, and was already in), then more screaming.</p>