- Does Obama blueprint reduce budget deficit fast enough? (+video)
- Whitney Houston: a singing sensation silenced too soon
- Pentagon budget: Does it pit active-duty forces against retirees?
- Could Mitt Romney lose to Rick Santorum in Michigan? (+video)
- Russian opposition to intervention in Syria shows no sign of abating
Backstory: Cracking the college code
Anwar Ahmed had a holy trifecta to perk any college admission counselor's ears: grades, ambition, and desire. He hoped to be the first in his family to attend college, but there was only one problem – deadlines were rapidly approaching, and he had no idea even how to apply.
On a gray, drizzly day in November, the lithe athlete strode up to his high school guidance counselor – one of four assigned to 1,600 students – and asked for a recommendation. He wasn't prepared for the abrupt litany that followed: requests for envelopes, recommendation letters from teachers, and application forms. An Ethiopian immigrant, he spoke Arabic (and three African languages) far better than English. His mother was in another state, and his father was deceased. He was on his own, his future uncertain and intimidating.
He might have given up if a teacher hadn't told him about an innovative new program at Garfield High School here. Arguably one of Seattle's top schools, Garfield is complex – home to an award-winning music curriculum, an advanced placement program, and a 57 percent nonwhite student population. Seven percent of the students are "transitional bilingual" – or still learning English. The inner-city school is a cultural and academic jewel, studded with high-achievers. But for students like Anwar, with potential, but with family or other problems to surmount, college can seem distant and daunting.
Now, thanks to College Access Now (CAN), that's changing. Not only is Anwar on his way to college, but so are the 28 other students who participated, many becoming the first in the family to pursue higher education.
It's no small feat. These days, the only thing more difficult than graduating from college is getting into one. With muddling through Byzantine financial aid forms, matching grade points and aptitudes to schools, crafting trenchant personal essays, filling out complex applications, and meeting never-ending deadlines, most students need the help of an educated adult or a professional who guides applicants through for a hefty fee.
Those weren't options for Anwar, whose family fled civil war in Ethiopia in the late '90s, spending some 30 months in a Kenyan refugee camp before moving to Seattle in 2001. Soon after, his mother moved, and, more recently, his father died, leaving him to migrate between siblings throughout his senior year. After school, he participated in soccer and track while working parttime, maintaining a 3.6 grade-point average. CAN filled a gap for him in funding and resources, providing the support he needed to navigate a highly competitive labyrinth.
"I can't imagine where I would be if not for this program," he says. "It really helped me a lot."
***
The program is the idea of Julia Schechter, whose master's degree in education and passion for learning inspired her to model it on one in Minneapolis. Though her own children are not yet in high school, she suggested it to Garfield's Parent-Teacher-Student Association, which gave its blessing – and the $3,400 that brought Karly Feria from the federal AmeriCorps*VISTA program to staff the after-school initiative.
This year, the program recruited 29 seniors from low-income families whose parents had little or no college experience. Students are coached in writing and study skills and get help with applications and fees. In exchange, they maintain a 2.0 grade-point average, take an SAT preparation class, perform eight hours of community service, and spend at least two hours after school each week working on admissions.
Page: 1 | 2 



