I finally conceded to my mother's wishes and created an online account for myself at FastWeb.com, the college scholarship guru Web site. Mom had a not-so-subtle way of reminding me. Since Post-it notes are her means of communication with the outside world, she plastered my bathroom mirror in hot pink Post-its that read FastWeb.com followed by a string of !!!!!!!

It was February of my senior year, and college loomed in the near future. My mother was my personal, live-in, motivational speaker when it came to the college application process. She made sure my applications were postmarked by the deadline, my ACT score and high-school transcripts sent to all the right schools, and that I was registered for the college preview days. At her latest "Make Sure Your Child Is Ready for College" seminar, she had heard of a Web site that connected students to scholarships based on their academic and extracurricular profiles, and ever since she had been nagging me to try it. She even set the home page on our computer to FastWeb.com. But it was the Post-it notes that did it.

After school one gloomy day I popped open a bag of Doritos and plopped down in front of the computer. Staring into the wavering screen, I entered my vital personal information into the required boxes. Yvette Shampine. TAB. 04/15/1990. TAB. 471 Blaisdell Avenue. TAB. When I hit the Next button, I checked yes to receive free Revlon mascara e-mail updates, not that I really wanted them, but to spite my mother, who detested advertising of any kind. I also checked yes to receive e-mails from the University of Alaska, Sweepstakes America, the National Bird Society, and the California Culinary Academy. Ever since I'd gotten on Facebook, my hotmail account had become a dumping ground for unwanted mail anyways.

Licking Doritos dust off my fingertips, I scrolled through a long list of "personal attributes." The small print encouraged me to check all that applied, because it would increase my scholarship possibilities. Clinically overweight. No. Although by my own clinical standards, 138 pounds was overweight. Displaced homemaker. I bit the inside of my cheek in puzzlement. Whatever a displaced homemaker was, I didn't think I was one. Against the death penalty. I'd never thought through the death penalty enough to have an opinion on it, so I left it blank. Canadian citizen. No, but too bad they didn't say Minnesota native. Feminist. Not particularly. Aren't feminists those women that go on marches without wearing bras and decry the male race as macho, egotistical, sexist beings? Me, I thought boys were kinda cute. Height: women 5'10" and taller. No, I was only 5'8". I never knew they gave out scholarships for being tall. What injustice! It almost made me want to become a feminist. Last name Van Valkenberg. No. Live in motor park home. No. Never before had I aspired to be a tall, clinically overweight feminist with the last name of Van Valkenberg living in a Canadian motor park home. I clacked my fingernails on the mouse and surveyed my long list of unchecked boxes. I pondered the "height" attribute, and whether or not 5'10" meant with heels or without heels. It was depressing that my personal attributes could come down to a pair of two-inch heels. I left it unchecked and went on to my extracurricular activities.

I fared a little better here, checking a grand total of three boxes. I played volleyball, attended church, and belonged to the National Honor Society. It would have helped if I was a Bible Bowl winner, a pageant finalist, duck caller, or Civil War reenactor. At this point I took off on a tangent and opened a new tab on Web browser to google "duck calling." Too bad, it sounded fascinating.

© 2009 by Grace Peterson