Choice of a lifetime

Mao Lee sat in bed with her cell phone, thumbs flying as she flooded a friend with text messages. In a few hours she would catch an early morning flight for a visit to Reed College in Oregon. I've never been to an airport. What if I miss the plane? Reassuring messages trickled back until the weary friend had to go to bed. Mao didn't sleep much that night. Her world is largely confined to her family, her high school in north Minneapolis, the family garden north of the Twin Cities and the area lakes she fishes. Not cross-country flights to visit elite private colleges like Reed.

Mao is one of four high school seniors the Star Tribune has followed as they applied for college this year. The competition to get into selective schools has never been tougher, and it has been a hard spring for many seniors. Record numbers of applicant have been turned away by schools ranging from Harvard to the University of Minnesota. Now, national decision day looms on Tuesday. After anxious months of struggling with essays and financial-aid forms and weighing schools they want against schools they can get into, thousands of Minnesota students will make the biggest choice of their lives.

For Mao, the decision is bigger than most. College will be a path to a life beyond poverty, for her and perhaps for the family she loves.

One of seven children of Hmong parents who never went to school, Mao is a near-straight-A student in advanced courses at Henry High School. She won her first scholarship in middle school. But to her family, she is the oldest unmarried daughter, and she has responsibilities. Mao skips summer enrichment programs to work 14-hour days in the garden with her parents.

She remembers sitting at her older sister's wedding several years ago, realizing that it now fell to her to get the other kids up for school and to translate American words and ways for her parents. She is the bridge that smooths tension between her traditional parents and her Americanized siblings.

When the time comes for college, will she be able to leave home?

Coach and friend

Mao's parents were farmers in Laos. Here, Cher Cha Lee and Zoua Yang raise a family on public assistance and the proceeds from selling vegetables at the farmers market. They know college is good for Mao's future, but they know nothing of the significance of a four-year degree.

Mao could find few Hmong words to explain what she was doing this year. She was hurt and frustrated when her parents couldn't share her triumphs and worries.

Carolyn Herman helped fill that gap. Carolyn, a Macalester College graduate and AmeriCorps volunteer, is Mao's coach in Admission Possible, a college-prep program for promising poor students. Persuasive and funny, Carolyn has been preparing Mao for her big choice for almost two years.

When Mao was in Oregon, she text-messaged Carolyn until her phone died. When Mao said writing about Hmong culture on a scholarship application was "too complicated," Carolyn knew she meant "too personal" and talked her through it. And when Mao won scholarships and trips to colleges, she brought the letters her parents couldn't appreciate to Carolyn, who did the jumping up and down and clapping for all of them.

"Carolyn is more excited than I am," Mao said.

Not really, Carolyn said later. Mao just refused to show it.

Mao's cool reserve is part of her image. Quirky, individualistic and opinionated, she joined school activities from literary magazine to Asian Club but led in none. She didn't talk often in class, but when she did, other students listened.

She adopted Carolyn's habit of scrawling notes in ink on her hands and arms. Unlike most Hmong girls, Mao cut her hair short. "I don't like long hair," she said. "The short hair, jeans and T-shirt say Mao. It's just me."

Scared to death

The November trip to Reed was a huge and scary step.

At the airport, Mao's stomach churned and her palms were sweating. Twenty dollars were stuffed in her jeans pocket. With no driver's license, she carried her Henry ID and her citizenship certificate.

Maybe it wasn't too late to back out. She was scared to death, "totally freaking."

But she got on the plane.

Minneapolis to Denver, Denver to Portland. As the jet descended, panic washed over her. How would the Reed people find her?

A woman in a Reed sweatshirt was waiting. The college was a dream in the rain: a campus straight out of a storybook, with wide green lawns and a footbridge lit with blue lights.

But by the second night, Mao was homesick. Reed, with just 1,300 students, seemed small, rich and subdued after Henry's energy and diversity.

Mao returned to Minneapolis convinced it would be a mistake to go so far from home. She wanted to take Reed off her list.

Not so fast, Carolyn told Mao. Keep your options open.

Near or far?

Pushed by Carolyn to cast her net wide, Mao applied to Reed, Unity College in Maine, Northland College in Wisconsin, Southwest Minnesota State in Marshall and the Twin Cities campus of the University of Minnesota.

All offered the environmental studies Mao wanted. But they were wildly different places. Mao had visited Southwest and liked its isolation and medium size. Unity, an environmental college, had only 520 students. At the bottom of Mao's list was the U, with 50,000 students.

"I don't want to go to a big college; I'm more of a quiet person. I like to be calm and quiet," Mao said last spring.

But after visiting Reed, her view changed. "You know what? Staying here is fine," she said. "The U of M has great programs."

Carolyn worried that Mao might be lost at a campus as large as the U. Being chosen by Reed to visit "was a huge honor," Carolyn said. "I wanted her to see her educational options. They are stellar."

Carolyn thought Reed probably was a long shot, but she predicted the school wouldn't be sorry if it admitted Mao. Carolyn had watched Mao's confidence grow and was struck by her analytical skills.

"She is realizing more and more that she has some extraordinary qualities," Carolyn said.

A flood of decisions

By mid-December, Mao's U application had been in for almost a month, but she hadn't heard a thing.

"I'm a little worried about that," she said, slumped in a chair in the Henry library.

Agonizing over leaving her family for college, she compared herself to a character in "The House of the Spirits," a novel she had read for one of her classes.

"The mom holds the family together," she said. "I'm not the mom, but I'm the one who can relate to the old ones and the young ones who are growing up here yet have their culture, too."

Friends told her she'd regret it if she didn't live on campus. She didn't believe it. "Living in dorms, partying at night, that's not my scene," she said.

A few days later, Mao was getting ready for bed when the phone rang at her older sister's house, where she stays during the school year. One of her younger sisters was calling from her parents' house.

"I'm pleased to tell you that you've been admitted ..." the girl began reciting.

"You punk!" Mao said. "You opened my letter!

"Read it."

The U had accepted Mao.

But taking a cue from Carolyn, Mao wanted to see what the other colleges said.

In the next few days, acceptance letters from Northland, Southwest and Unity arrived. Only Reed remained.

Final visits to campuses

In January, Mao heard from the U again. She had won a McGuire Scholarship that would pay 90 percent of the cost of attending and living at the U. Carolyn jumped up and down. Mao smiled.

A few weeks later, on what turned out to be the coldest day of the winter, Mao traded her flip-flops for boots and visited the U's St. Paul campus. She ate fries in the cafeteria with a fisheries and wildlife major, met with counselors and sat in on a lecture on population growth.

Walking around, she liked how natural light poured into the buildings and took comfort in knowing that the St. Paul campus was not that big.

Then, in March, Mao learned she was a finalist for a big scholarship at Southwest and made a second campus visit with eight other finalists from the Twin Cities. Every bump on the four-hour bus trip sent her usually graceful printing zigging wildly over her homework pages, and she set them aside to watch black, wet fields whiz by.

On the campus tour, Mao hung at the back of the group, wringing her hands. She emerged from her scholarship interview with a Mona Lisa smile. How did it go?

"OK."

At the end of the day, Mao said Southwest, the U and Reed were her top schools. She liked Southwest's uncrowded campus and programs.

Still no word from Reed

The U's offer was hanging out there like a plum to be picked. But there was still no word from Reed. Mao was doubting herself.

"It's like the U is laying out the red carpet for me," she said. "Can't they get anyone else? Am I good enough for that? Do I have what it takes to be part of the U of M?"

A week later, Southwest offered her a full-ride scholarship. Days after that, Reed sent her a rejection letter.

Mao felt relieved. She was happy with her options. It was time to make a decision.

Decision day

On a Thursday in late April, Mao and Carolyn sat down at a table in one of Henry's computer labs. Carolyn was going to play devil's advocate. Mao crossed her arms resolutely.

"Explain to me why the U of M is your top choice," Carolyn said.

Money, Mao said. The programs she wanted were strong at the U. And the U was near home. "I just feel most comfortable at the U," Mao said.

"When you say comfortable, what do you mean by that?" Carolyn said. "Because it's honkin'. It's a big place."

Mao said that once she chose a major, classes would be small. Carolyn agreed that the U was a great school. Only one thing stopped her from "doing cartwheels," she said. "I'm afraid if you stay in the Twin Cities, your focus will remain too much at home and not enough on you and your future."I knew that's what you were going to say, " Mao said.

'I need to do this for now'

Breaking away from family would be hard, Mao admitted. But she was set on going to college and living on campus.

"I need to do this for now, and in the future it's going to benefit all of us," Mao said.

Interrogation over, Carolyn waved her arms in celebration. "Mao's going to the U of M!" she sang. "Mao's going to college!"I think I've done pretty good," Mao said. If only her parents could understand, she said, they'd be proud. She patted herself on the chest and smiled.

"I'm proud of myself, and I know Carolyn is, so I'm good," Mao said.

"I'm really proud of you," Carolyn answered.

Mary Jane Smetanka • 612-673-7380