knowing others' minds

One of the things I do is interview applicants to a college. It's an interesting experience. I do a very thorough, very structured interview; I discuss any exceptional features of their high school, classes they've enjoyed and academic subjects that interest them, books they've read, extracurriculars and sports, bad experiences they've had. I then ask a few more oddball questions: "What would you change about yourself, given a magic wand?" "What's something you don't know now that you'd like to know?" Depending on the student, I'll ask what they would change about the world with a magic wand, this riddle, and what their college application would be if it were to be restricted to just ten words. I then ask them about their interest in the University, their thoughts on college, etc. This is followed by a segment where they can ask me questions. I close the interview by asking if there's anything else they'd like to talk about, any question they wished I had asked them. During the entire process, I follow up on any interesting leads, and ask very vague and generic follow-up questions (sometimes just "Hemmingway?" and a quizzical look). The whole process takes thirty minutes at the minumum. Typically, interviews run forty-five minutes; occasionally an hour or more.

I then write a report which is read later during the admissions process. In my discussions with readers, I have been assured of this fact: my reports are always very accurate. That is, the impression I have of students usually lines up very closely with the impression garnered from transcripts, teacher recommendations, test scores, essays, other essays, resumes, and all the rest of the college application.

On the one hand, this is somewhat reassuring: I seem to be able to get an accurate sense of a student in about forty-five minutes.* On the other hand, there have been some interviews that just underscore how incredibly difficult it is to get to know another person. That is, when asked about bad experiences, or what they would change with magic wands, some students have revealed intensely (believe me) experiences and facts. Other ones go with bland, generic answers, safe ones that are thoughtful, and perhaps even true. But I am struck by the thought that so many of the students who I interview have enormous aspects of their lives that they never reveal.

Or even if they do - what is "I really enjoyed cow tipping" compared to the experience this student had going out and tipping cows? I don't want to say that words always fail to represent their objects, but in many cases, given the limits of human finitude, they leave us with a terribly incomplete picture of what has happened.

* In Doubt, when Father Flynn asks Sister Aloysius how she knew what he was, she recalls a single moment: when he grabbed one boy's arm, and the boy pulled away. In that single moment she saw (perhaps) his character.