Admissions Blog

It's hard for me to recall the infamous Reception Day at West Point.

Before I actually arrived at this "Rockbound Highland Home" many cadets and graduates told me that the two hardest points of the 47 month experience at West Point were R-Day and Re-orgy (Reorganization) week. But no one could really explain to me what to do in order to prepare. Situations such as this one effect everyone differently. For example my best friend here loved R-Day, but then again both of her parents graduated from West Point. But for me a few distinct things stand out in my mind.

1. Immediately after I said goodbye to my mother, (who following the Oath Parade flew back to the Netherlands) the group who I entered Eisenhower Hall with were herded out of two large doors. At those point, things become a blur of sweating bodies and shouting cadets. My first interaction with the upper-class was not a good one, the friendly cadet faces who were watching the lines and talking to parents outside of Ike Hall transformed into something rock hard and steely. The girl in front of me in the line to identify our baggage was caught with a smirk on her face. And like vultures she was yelled at and surrounded by a pack of cadets and by one was told this was not "some California summer camp" and his buddies fed off of his energy, creating a loud spectacle in front of me. I didn't know how to react. I just knew that I couldn't move, smirk, or look at those cadets or else I would become part of this shenanigan. The one thing that I had to hand to West Point at that point was that I knew I was going to catch on very quickly. Following this we were ordered onto a bus, squeezing in with our fellow New Cadets, and strictly instructed not to talk – the cadet exited the bus, the doors closed, leaving us alone on the bus. I later found out that once these cadets left us on the bus they laughed and joked about the looks on our faces. But I did not find this human side of the upper class until much later. While on the bus the boy sitting next to me whispered to me, "What have we gotten ourselves into?#8221;
2. Our first issue point. "Issue Point" became a  set of words which I associated the worst of feelings with. It meant getting yelled at for not knowing the rank of the cadre beside you, it meant being yelled at to move faster and then stand perfectly still. It meant that if your elbow wasn't at a 90 degree angle and your knowledge book squarely in front of your face you would be yelled at. Or if you tried to move at parade rest. If you are reading this and considering West Point, never, NEVER try to move at parade rest. Take the extra split second and move to the position of attention first. We were standing in Thayer Hall in long lines, collecting issued shorts, shirts, bathrobes in huge green flight bags, when I saw one of the single most disturbing image of my short cadet life: a group of new cadets with cleanly shaved heads and ugly glasses. These glasses are fondly called BCG's – Birth Control Goggles, for obvious and embarrassing reasons. This may not seem like much, but their heads were pale – being covered at one time, I believe, by flowing gorgeous hair that complemented their face shape, and their faces were anxious and expectant for the next thing that could be taken from them. They looked pathetic, we all looked pathetic, and ugly, as our cadre liked to frequently remind us. I was told this would happen, the process of breaking all of these high-school heroes to nothing, to build us back again into leaders. But I didn't realize it would be so painful, have our contacts, hair, clothes, glory, facial expressions taken away from us and locked in a metaphorical box held by the cadre.
3. No one offered a friendly face that day to me. Even my buddies, my fellow New Cadets, were afraid to so much look at each other. With the exception of the civilian people dumping the clothes in our bags. They actually asked how we were, if we were ok, and it tore me apart. It was hard for me to find that balance between no one caring at all, and someone actually caring. I either wanted one or the other, but once again it was just West Point teaching us a lesson. The thing that I was soon told later during Beast was that every little thing has some sort of meaning behind it, and not to lose sight of that. Either way, a friendly face appeared in the form of my later introduced Squad Leader. Not so much a friendly face, we didn't see him smile until about half way through the detail, but someone whose mission it was to make us  good New Cadets, which would transfer to  good cadets come Acceptance Day. But now we had someone who could answer our questions, teach us, and help us. He gave us hints to score well on the Army Physical Fitness Test (APFT), told us to print of a pie chart to cut desserts come academic year, and to take pride in our uniforms. I attribute to him much of my success as a 4^th Class Cadet. So much that I am able to help my Team Leader when he has small issues as well as help my classmates.

But from here it was all down-hill. Slowly I learned the names and positions of my company's cadre. I greeted correctly and no longer felt the need to wait until 0300 to make a quick trip to the latrine. The cadre began to let down their initial front and showed us the hilarious, witty people they were. Of course we couldn't laugh at them without being reprimanded to "smirk off." My squad learned about each other and mastered the skill of wordless communication. I became stronger, and I learned to recognize the new person in the mirror. Instead of the free spirit clad in beautiful clothes and curly hair, it took me a week to recognize the new face, the one with the huge glasses awkwardly strapped to my head, hair pulled tightly back into a standard bun, and wearing ACU's which would have fit a man 40 pounds heavier than me.  But soon I came to love that New Cadet almost as much as I loved my old self.

Soon however, I realized that I was starting my journey down a road that included me in a society which cared about one another, and worked for the common good, and for something much more important than myself.

THE END,