When I first met Bradford, he stood with such polished rigidity that I was certain his father was in the USMC. Imagine my surprise when I discovered his dad is a middle school English teacher. Saint as far as I am concerned; I love writing and thought middle school was fun. But to teach it is an entirely different beast. I was presented with a real life paradox and couldn’t wait to get working; there had to be something surprising inside Bradford and I wanted to find it. Middle school English teachers are pretty chill – khaki pants, a thread bearing, old polo with the logo of an alma mater, and strange socks – and Bradford was completely opposite of chill. I think his Nike tee might have been starched.
Like many meetings, my first with Bradford was during a break from school. Attending a prestigious boarding school far away meant that his time at home was limited, and I knew he adored his younger brothers. I actually worried that we might have to cut our time short and reconvene via Zoom at a later date.
Before he opened his mouth to discuss anything of substance, we talked about the Revolution Doughnuts I brought with me for a family treat (which actually is a substantive topic; IYKYK). I noticed his enunciation was extremely unique and chameleon-like. With every new topic, his vocabulary, body language, and cadence changed to reflect the subject matter. Sweet breakfast treats had me talking to one version of Bradford who could wax poetic about salted caramel like a kid eating a bag of Goldfish crackers. Talking to Bradford about working for the FBI was quite another conversation. His conversational skills fascinated me and I wanted further in his brain to poke around. His situational awareness – and the fact that he could use it to his advantage – amazed me.
First meetings include parents and this was no exception. But after a bit, I was ready to go on a last-minute and “totally necessary” hike through the “rough” Dunwoody terrain to get him away from his folks. They are lovely people with a gorgeous home and fantastic cats, but I suspected he would be easier to crack flying solo.
Before I learned about Bradford, the subject matter of his essays, I learned Bradford by watching him. He’s an extremely handsome young man who has physical and situational awareness of himself and others. He’s got broad shoulders, an athletic build from years as a camp counselor, and bright white piano keys for teeth. They are perfectly framed by smile lines whenever he talks. Yes, it is possible for someone to sincerely smile while talking and not look like a comedian on an SNL skit. Bradford taught me that. He was convivial, through and through. Interpersonal interaction seemed to be the gasoline in his engine. He’s not a man of large crowds or forced small talk; he wants an intimate setting where he gets as much out of the conversation as he puts into it. Why talk about the weather or politics when you can discuss better and safer ways to transport inner-city kids to and from school? What Brandford has is a very rare trait for a teen. His big concerns in the world: other people, inequality, and doing the right thing.
More impressively, Bradford has mastered the art of real, adult communication and he was only 17 at our meeting. He asked well-thought questions and balanced them against answers to mine. Our conversation was truly 50/50 and the pacing set entirely by him. Too much silence on my end elicited a new and intriguing question. With some students I have to fight for the floor and others I have to beg for a grunt. It was a pure joy to spend time talking with him. This wasn’t working at all and we were eating doughnuts together.
When allowed into the sacrosanct world of the teen mind, I leave all of my presuppositions and biases behind. Well, as much as is humanly possible. Nothing about me matters except for my ability to help students put themselves on paper and make their prose dance for an admissions committee. I have worked with atheists, Hindus, and Jewish students among so many others. My belief system matters not in these meetings, theirs does…but only if they want it to. Again, this is their journey…not mine. Bradford is someone I would call faith-forward but not oppressively or politically. He wears his Christianity on his sleeve: he was welcoming and kind with his faith, didn’t jam it down my throat, and we have some pretty notable differences in how we practice. And that’s a tall order in these days of division and hatred. He is, above all else, a very kind person. To him, God is love. Hard stop.
Bradford was able to articulate his belief system with as much enthusiasm as he was inquiring about mine, and what other religions I had worked with. He listened with an open mind and asked some pretty tough questions when we did a deeper dive into the subject of God. His is a judgement free mind. It bears noting: I have no idea what I will end up talking about in first student meetings, I just want them to talk…about anything. I can say with certainty that I know the faith practice of less than 50% of my students. Students bring up the subject based upon some random and totally unrelated question I’ve asked…all in the name of learning what makes them tick.
For Bradford, the question was, “what schools are you interested in?” His reply was that he was letting his faith guide him. It was clear the worldly Bradford had opinions about college; but, so, too, did the ethereal one. During our time together we talked about age-old concepts like free will, divine intervention, the power or prayer, and the significance of faith. All because he steered the conversation that way. He was, at once, a student of my views and a teacher of his. Students like Bradford are the reason professors spend a dozen years working towards a doctorate. Bradford is delectable fodder for the mind.
It occurred to me that young, smart, funny athletic men don’t do a religious deep dive with a complete stranger without reason. His parents were faithful, signs of their practice visible in their home, but his perspective was different, not theirs. In a way, it was almost more evolved than the beliefs his parents espoused. In my experience, that kind of refined wisdom comes from only one source: a significant life trial. Bradford’s faith had been road tested and I was convinced. My only problem…I refused to ask. Organic subjects always make for better papers.
Our meeting would end and I tasked Bradford to brainstorm but not think about his Common App essay. I’m certain he thought I was crazy.
Because miles separate us and he is a teen, FaceTime calls or texts were routine as we worked to hammer out his essay topic. And it was a doozy. Bradford was faced with a life-changing decision to make at a very young age (not that there is ever a good time for these things). Middle school, the most awkward time when kids’ bodies, minds, hormones, and moods are changing faster than the wind. And with big decisions come change and a leap into uncharted territory. Of course he has an amazing support system in his family, who were with him through his move to boarding school in the name of advancing his athletics. But to truly experience some journeys means to tackle them solo. Bradford took this unexpected yet life-changing opportunity on like a boss.
His journey would send him to boarding school, away from his beloved brothers, parents, dogs and cats, and far from the southern food and culture to which he was accustomed. Was Bradford running from anything or directly toward anything? Nope. He simply made a difficult decision in 9th grade to place himself in a completely new place for the potential of some very big things. Opportunity is an obscure concept for kids to grasp. His boarding school had competitive soccer and wrestling, a close-knit and accessible faculty, and space…space for him to spend every free waking moment involved in sport. It freed up his obligations and removed the expectations of friends and family vying for his time. He did it in the name of smart, pragmatic, risk taking for growth and development. In a word: risk. Quite mature if you ask me.
I am not certain if Bradford’s faith led him to a place where he was able to make such a mature decision, or if it was the decision that matured his faith. Frankly, the directionality and causality between the two do not matter; that they are inexorably linked does. Bradford is a changed person because he balanced solid decision making skills with his faith in the unseen. The corporeal worked in harmony with the otherworldly in Bradford and it’s one hell of an accomplishment. Grown men of the cloth struggle with this concept.
Bradford was highly selective in his school choices and brand recognition was the last thing on his mind. He sought a tight-knit campus with an intimate community setting, and he wanted access to professors immediately because there are abstruse concepts to learn and mentors to be found. It also needed to be academically rigorous to keep the machine between his ears busy, and academic rigor looks different to everyone. The place had to match his vibe of introspection and solitude, have an environment of love and acceptance, and he found his home at Wofford College. They are an extraordinarily lucky institution to have him as a student. Having a gaggle of freshmen converge upon campus each year is a huge undertaking for any institution, but Bradford brings integrity, ethics, an explosive intellect, an old soul, kindred spirit, and real life trials with him as he begins this next chapter in his life. I cannot think of a better pupil, classmate, or study buddy for anyone embarking on the next 4 years of learning. What an amazing experience it will be.
My wish for Bradford as he embarks on his next chapter: trust in yourself. You have amazing capabilities and a huge heart mixed with a desire to do good things in the world. Sincerely, this is a rare combination and there are a lot of cool intellectual pursuits for you to chase down; you have to trust in your abilities to do it. If a class strikes your fancy in college, take it. Embrace learning for the hedonistic value in it; what you do with your education will eventually manifest. But, for now, bask in the limitless opportunities to learn. I know you love learning and college is a time when you can chase knowledge purely for the sake of chasing it.
Embrace your inner word nerd like a boss. Introduce yourself to your professors and their graduate assistants, visit them during office hours, and ask questions. If you don’t understand why you got a particular grade, go ask. Bring an extra lollipop because most professors love junk food. Ask all of the questions. Oh, and buy Costco socks in bulk because guys seem to lose socks in college at an alarming rate; I’m not sure why.
Also, pick up Ella Minnow Pea, by Mark Dunn, and give it a read. It’s a whimsical tale of just how nonsensical human behavior can be. You’ll love it.
