Today I did not drive up 7th Street. I was at a conference near Vanderbilt. As I left the stately old buildings and drove to my next appointment, I saw a somewhat unusual coed. She was dressed in black from head to toe. She was walking with purpose, head up, her sweet brown face lost in thought. The only thing that made her similar to the others on the street was her heavy backpack and her tennis shoes.
But she was familiar to me. It was Halima, one of our star students. Eighteen months ago, she was salutatorian of her high school, an area magnet school. It broke her heart when she was not accepted at Vanderbilt. Vanderbilt was her dream. As a Somali Muslim girl, she could not live away from home but she wanted to study at the best school. For Halima, that school was Vanderbilt. As it worked out, she went to Belmont for her first year and then transferred into Vanderbilt as a proven scholar. (Now, Belmont University is a great school. It just wasn’t this particular young lady’s dream.)
As I think about her path to Vanderbilt, it appears obvious that it is still hard to match up – no matter what your grades or gifts – if you are without resources, if you are a refugee, if you attend public schools in challenged neighborhoods. Upper class kids just look better on paper. Halima does not look like a middle class kid on paper or in real life. Truly, she is academically more motivated and wiser than almost any privileged freshman I have ever known. What she is at 18 years old -- that is so predictive of her contribution to this world -- does not have a slot on the application form.
I do believe that if Admissions had actually met Halima, she would not have had to detour to prove she was Vanderbilt material.
But this is a story with a happy ending. It was a thrill to see her just walking down the street, negotiating the world on her own. Walk on brave girl.
