"I just have the worst writers block...." the nine year old wined, grasping his large head in his hands.
"You can't have writer's block when you are copying something off of the board" the tiny, Indian child with giant black rimmed glasses responded, writing casually with a Ticonderoga pencil that seemed too large for his small hand.
"But I have just had it for months!" the other continued, eyes to the ceiling and hands outstretched.
The little Indian boy sighed, shaking his head slightly from left to right, his hand continuing the required copying.
"Well, as for future goals, I plan to be a rocket scientist by the time I'm twenty-four". I gagged on my coffee. The scholarship applicant was pushing twenty years old and had a 1.3 grade point average. Nice.
"But since my grades in science aren't so great, I might try switching majors. If that doesn't work, I'll just stick it out and be a rocket scientist".
Nice B plan, I thought, wanting to send him a personal bill for taking ten minutes out of my Sunday before giving him the lowest possible rating for the scholarship.
"So, you really have to let me try that tocino. I simply can't stop thinking about it!" the large headed boy stated on his way out, waving his hands in the air.
"Lola's dog treat?" I asked, incredulous.
"Yes! It just looks great. Promise me you will make it for me".
"Uh, okay, I promise. Do you have any allergies?"
"None what soever" he answered, giving me a direct look in the eye and a quick nod, as if we had just closed an important deal.
"By the way, I got my behavior clip moved back up from yellow to green after you left".
"That's great. I am glad you got back on your game".
"Of course" he stated, turning on the stairs and walking down, his backpack hanging unzipped and wide open.
I rushed home and got on the virtual conference to caucus about the scholarship applications. Buzz whir and we were all connected to DC and staring at the same spreadsheet that reflected our common applicants, organized by who we had ranked the highest to lowest, as well as a comparison of our individual scores for each applicant.
"I just didn't see a lot of leadership there and her grade point average wasn't that great..." one of the co-judges commented, his voice ringing through the speakers of my computer into my kitchen. I crept across the room and quietly opened a beer, hoping it couldn't be heard through the speakers. I clandestinely sat back down, took a deep breath and moved closer to my computer.
"She is undocumented. Her whole family is undocumented. She is working multiple jobs at sub-par wages to contribute to her household. She has completed two years of college, paying out of state tuition and has a 3.3 grade point average, without the ability to get federal loans, though there is no reason for her to think an education will ever pay off for her in any way. If she finishes, she still won't have papers. For me...., for me, that is a tremendous burden for a young person to carry and I stand by my top rating".
"I would like to raise my score..." the third judge announced.
"I could go higher as well" the other acquiesced.
I sipped my beer quietly.
"Are we ready to move on?" the moderator asked.
"Yes, we are" we answered in unison.
The Italian triplets skipped down the stairs waving goodbye, their skin so transparent it was almost blue, but their eyes were large and excited, accompanied by little shy smiles on their faces.
"Ciao...." I called and raced home myself, to rip Lola's cage open and let her run free into the backyard, butt wiggling and legs galloping.
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