I probably like prospies more than I like you, and I mean that in the nicest way possible: It’s just what happens when you assign worth to people based on the entertainment value they supply. You know, when you run into the socially crippled guy you hooked up with in January, or the TA from freshman year who didn’t deem sarcasm appropriate in that paper on human trafficking, and you eke out a half-smile and curse your heinously awkward pseudo-existence. Repeat until graduation.
Oh, but to happen upon a throng of prospies! Their purple lanyards billowing in the wind! Their wide-eyed optimism! Their furrowed brows! That special way they hang their heads when my jaw drops and I point at them, breathlessly mouthing that one idyllic abbreviation: “Prospies.” These kids are everywhere, and I personally can’t get enough of their fresh faces and AP-score babble.
After the opus to prospective students I wrote about a year ago, it seems unlikely that undergraduate admissions will ever find it suitable to hand me over another high-school student. Well-played, admissions office, but my fascination with prospies runs too deep to be thwarted by things such as criminal law. I lured two prospective students away from the pack, mumbled something about journalism and interviewed them in the only way I know how: with moxie. Check it out.
Video editing by Asha Toulmin.