Day of Reckoning

After months of agonizing, the wait was over. Today was the day my son determined his fate in his young, bare hands. It was the day he took his HSPT at Bell.

As we began to prepare his application to Bellarmine, the anxiety of this day hovered over our heads throughout the holidays. I think we, his parents, were more stressed than he was. The pressure was there, but we only want what's best for him. No second choices. It was Bell or bust.

My son needs some form of structure. He isn't a self-starter. He needs prodding. Maybe pushing is a better word. We enrolled him in an HSPT prep class in anticipation of this day. Most of those we spoke with swore by its effectiveness. I hope it worked, too, for him. We also got him 3 books to use for practice. I think he was only able to go through a book and a half.

Like most kids his age (I was the same when I was his age), there was a little cramming. He waited till almost the last minute to pound those books and maximize the resources he had. To his credit, he did do what he was supposed to. I understood. It was difficult to focus. It was the holidays. He was on Christmas vacation. I guess by the last week, he was so tired of hearing us remind him to hit the books and practice. But I sensed that he knew the importance of doing well in the test. This morning, he was still reviewing some math exercises, despite me telling him to rest and relax.

I woke him up after 9:00am, then had him have bagel and milk for breakfast. At around 11, I cooked him a couple of hotdogs and fried eggs, with rice, for an early lunch. His classmate, Nick, arrived and rode with us to Bell. We passed by my son's BFF, Coby, and took him with us as well. By 12:10, we were at Bellarmine. Call time was 12:45, and the exam was to start at 1. My son wanted to be there early so they can relax a little bit. And that's what we did.

We had wanted to say a prayer at the chapel, but it was closed. So we hung around by the quadrangle nearby, as we watched the entrance to O'Donnell Hall get filled with other 8th graders ready to take the same exam. I decided to take a picture of the 3 boys as a little souvenir on this important day. As the call time drew near, we proceeded to the hall, and were met by 4 other classmates and friends. At 12:45pm, the boys slowly walked in.

It was the day of reckoning. And all we wished was for him to do his best.

Meanwhile, the wife and I had a late lunch at Left Bank in Santana Row, then a little shopping. We crossed Stevens Creek to Valley Fair, then came back for some frozen yogurt at Pinkberry. We had 3 hours to kill.

It was close to 4 by the time we reached Bell. Other parents were already milling around waiting for their own children to come out. About 15 minutes past the hour, the boys started coming out, one by one. Those who were assigned on the first floor rooms got out first, while those on the 3rd floor were last. My son was on the second floor. As he stepped out, he looked OK. He said it wasn't bad, but he didn't say it was easy either. But he did say that the prep class helped. It seemed like they had more time allotted per module than it was during his prep class. He managed to answer all the questions, with enough time to spare. I just hope he answered them correctly.

It was a relief now that it was over. And we kept telling the boys that it's more of a relief for their parents than for themselves. Now, it is a matter of waiting. And the stress and tension will build up as the projected release day nears. For Bellarmine, it's March 15. This is the day we'll all know if my son is accepted at Bell or not. If we get a thick envelope in the mail, that's a good sign. A thin envelope is NOT a good thing.

It's strange how roles are now reversed. About 35 years ago, I was taking the same test to get into a Jesuit school in Manila, and my parents were on pins and needles, as we were today. As the old adage goes, history repeats itself.

Good luck, son. I pray that you, and your classmates, make it.