Academic Workshop

In the spring of 1999 Ann was finishing up her junior year of high school. A flyer arrived in the mail that spring inviting her to a one week Invitational Academic Workshop (IAW) at the United States Military Academy at West Point.

The West Point web site describes the IAW as “a fast-paced program of academic workshops, military training, physical fitness training and intramural athletics conducted during the second or third week in June each year. West Point cadets serve as squad leaders for all aspects of the week-long workshop.” The week-long workshop cost a couple hundred dollars plus the airfare.

Though Ann didn’t have anything important planned for the summer she didn’t express any interest in the workshop. In fact, Ann was rather negative about it. I personally think she did not want to burden us with the cost. Given the history of West Point and its graduates, Jean and I thought this would be a good experience for Ann. Ann had never been to the northeast and we thought it would be a great adventure for her. Ann remained unconvinced

I thought the topic was dead several weeks later when Jean called me at work. Jean made an impassioned case about how we had been spending buckets of money on John’s swim club dues, swim meet entry fees, and travel expenses all over the southeast. She pointed out how cheap it had been to support Ann’s running by only purchasing shorts, shoes, socks, singlets, and the occasional entry fee for a road race. Jean insisted that Ann should go to the IAW. The only problem was that the IAW application had to be postmarked THAT DAY.

By this time I’d firmly learned the lesson that “If momma ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.” I quickly acquiesced to Jean’s wishes. I was actually all for it; I’ve always been a fan of the military. I just didn’t know how Jean was going to get Ann to go!

Jean found the application and filled it out. She drove to the high school and got Ann out of class. We’d never gotten Ann out of class before and it scared Ann to death. I suspect that Ann quickly added up what Jean had done so far and came to the same conclusion that I did. Resistance was futile. Ann agreed to go to the IAW and signed the application. With the signed application in hand, Jean drove straight to the Post Office to get the envelope postmarked.

In the weeks leading up to the workshop Ann told me firmly several times “Dad, don’t get your hopes up. I am going to West Point for the workshop, and I am going to have FUN, but I am NOT going to West Point for college!”

The IAW was before September 11, 2001, so Jean and I were allowed to go out to the airplane’s gate to greet Ann when she returned from West Point. When we spotted Ann coming out of the gate she was talking with two of the most intelligent looking, handsome, clean-cut, all-American young men I had seen in years. I thought “Way to go, Ann!” As Ann separated from the two fellows she said to them “See you guys next year!”

As the veteran father of a teenage daughter I knew to keep my mouth shut, but I was desperately curious what that remark meant. Just this once I kept my mouth shut. As we walked down the hallway towards baggage claim Jean and I exchanged quizzical glances. Ann said, “I suppose you’re wondering what that was all about. (Long pause) I made more friends in one week at West Point than I’ve made in a lifetime in Lilburn. That’s the first place I’ve felt like I belonged. I want to go to West Point.” Ann had many close friends at home; Lilburn was a great community, but West Point was packed with people who were just like her.

I thought Ann was really mature to change her mind about West Point in spite of her earlier comments. Not many teenagers would do that. She had new information from a first-hand experience, and she acted on it. Go, Ann.