The Choice: A Class Gets Acquainted Months Before Freshman Fall

Occasional reflections on the admissions process by Caren Osten Gerszberg, the mother of a high school senior.

I just returned from my 25th college reunion. The highlight of the weekend was not skimming the surface of life, love, work and kids in three minutes or less, but rather the quality time and deep conversations shared among six of my closest college friends. It’s hard to believe I knew no one when I got there.

The summer before my freshman year, I worked as a cashier at a local supermarket. Arriving home one afternoon, I found a letter on university letterhead waiting and ripped it open. There it was — the name, address and telephone number of my roommate, Lisa, from South Orange, N.J.

“Should I bring my boombox?” I nervously asked her as I twirled the wall phone’s extra-long cord and paced around my mom’s blue-tiled kitchen.

“Yes,” Lisa answered. “And I can bring a popcorn maker.”

The important decisions now sorted out, we met face-to-face for the first time in our dorm room on freshman move-in day in late August.

Fast-forward 25 years, and it’s a whole new pre-frosh universe.

Since the day of her acceptance to Wesleyan University last fall, my daughter Nicole has been communicating with her future classmates. She joined a university-run Facebook group — open exclusively to admitted students — which currently has 770 members (the incoming class has 745 students), as well as another “Class of 2015” Facebook group (unaffiliated with the university, and described as a “place for potential students to meet and discuss!”).

Now that college “friends” are virtually in abundance, the days of stepping onto a campus having never met or seen a classmate’s photo are indeed over — no matter from which continent you hail.

Over the last several months, these students have been asking questions (Any classics majors? Do we pay for laundry?), getting acquainted (I love naps and Madrid Real), divulging hometowns (I’m from Miami and might die in the cold; accepted from Mexico City!), and discussing dorms (I’m between Fauver and Westco; looking for a roomie in Clark).

Eventually, and inevitably, Nicole came across a girl with whom she had a mutual Facebook friend. They started a dialogue online and it turned out the girl lives in a nearby town. They met for ice cream one Sunday afternoon, and there it was — a new friend with whom she could text and meet while visiting their future school in April for WesFest, a long weekend of classes, seminars, performances and parties for parents and students, both current and future.

As Nicole packed her bag preparing to catch the train to Connecticut, I sat on the floor of her room to keep her company.

“You know,” I said, “this is kind of like your first day of college.” She didn’t turn around, but just grumbled, “Uh-huh,” probably hoping I’d stop talking and let her get ready in peace.

“When I went to college, the only person I spoke with in advance was my assigned roommate,” I continued. “But you’ve already communicated with so many kids, and now you’ll be meeting some of them for the first time. So when you move in on Aug. 31, it won’t be as awkward and scary.”

“O.K., whatever,” she said.

Nicole did see familiar faces during the WesFest weekend, and came back as excited as ever.

She didn’t agree that it felt like her first day of college, and I suppose she’s right — nor does it make sense to compare her experience to mine, since technology has rendered the unknown nearly unimaginable for her generation. And who knows what’s better, the comfort obtainable nowadays via e-mail and the Internet, or the feeling of walking onto a campus not knowing a soul?

Twenty-five years later, one thing I do know is that college has brought me lifelong friends. During my reunion weekend, over meals, walks, cocktails, coffee breaks and the occasional cheese steak—with friends who came from as close as Boston and New Jersey and as far as Cleveland and Colorado — we didn’t skim over anything.

Of course we reminisced about the good ole college days, sometimes laughing until we cried. But it took little time before we delved deep, covering parenting issues, career ups, downs and hiatuses, aging parents and recent ailments; diminishing eyesight, hot flashes, and dental implants were new, and fairly common, among us.

The beginning of college can be daunting. In these times of instant knowledge and information, I hope Nicole’s new acquaintances — both virtual and real — will make her first few days at college feel less so.

And then, maybe at her 25th reunion, she and some of her classmates will reminisce about those early days when they “met” on Facebook, and how nice it was to arrive with instant friends.

To offer your thoughts on what Ms. Gerszberg has written, or to share similar observations, please use the comment box below. To read more by her, click here.

View the original article here

The Class That Built Apps, and Fortunes

ALL right, class, here’s your homework assignment: Devise an app. Get people to use it. Repeat.

That was the task for some Stanford students in the fall of 2007, in what became known here as the “Facebook Class.”

No one expected what happened next.

The students ended up getting millions of users for free apps that they designed to run on Facebook. And, as advertising rolled in, some of those students started making far more money than their professors.

Almost overnight, the Facebook Class fired up the careers and fortunes of more than two dozen students and teachers here. It also helped to pioneer a new model of entrepreneurship that has upturned the tech establishment: the lean start-up.

“Everything was happening so fast,” recalls Joachim De Lombaert, now 23. His team’s app netted $3,000 a day and morphed into a company that later sold for a six-figure sum.

“I almost didn’t realize what it all meant,” he says.

Neither did many of his classmates. Back then, Facebook apps were a novelty. The iPhone had just arrived, and the first Android phone was a year off.

But by teaching students to build no-frills apps, distribute them quickly and worry about perfecting them later, the Facebook Class stumbled upon what has become standard operating procedure for a new generation of entrepreneurs and investors in Silicon Valley and beyond. For many, the long trek from idea to product to company has turned into a sprint.

Start-ups once required a lot of money, time and people. But over the past decade, free, open-source software and “cloud” services have brought costs down, while ad networks help bring in revenue quickly.

The app phenomenon has accentuated the trend and helped unleash what some call a new wave of technology innovation — and what others call a bubble.

Early on, the Facebook Class became a microcosm of Silicon Valley. Working in teams of three, the 75 students created apps that collectively had 16 million users in just 10 weeks. Many of those apps were sort of silly: Mr. De Lombaert’s, for example, allowed users to send “hotness” points to Facebook friends. Yet during the term, the apps, free for users, generated roughly $1 million in advertising revenue.

Such successes helped inspire entrepreneurs to ditch business plans and work on apps. Not all succeeded, but those that did helped to fuel the expansion of Facebook, which now has nearly 700 million users.

Venture capitalists also began rethinking their approach. Some created investment funds tailored to the new, bare-bones start-ups.

“A lot of the concepts and ideas that came out of the class influenced the structure of the fund that I am working on now,” says Dave McClure, one of the class instructors and founder of 500 Startups, which invests in lean start-ups. “The class was the realization that this stuff really works.”

Nearly four years later, many of the students have learned that building a business is a lot harder than creating an app — even an app worthy of an A+.

“Starting a company is definitely more work,” says Edward Baker, who was Mr. De Lombaert’s partner in the class and later in business. The two have founded Friend.ly, a social networking start-up.

Still, many students were richly rewarded. Some turned their homework into companies. A few have since sold those businesses to the likes of Zynga. Others joined hot start-ups like RockYou, a gaming site that at the time was among the most successful Facebook apps.

The Facebook Class changed Mr. De Lombaert’s life. His team’s app, Send Hotness, brought in more users and more money faster than any other in the class. And its success attracted the attention of venture capitalists.

“The class, more than anything, set the tone for us to try to start something big,” says Mr. Baker, 32, Friend.ly’s C.E.O.

When the Send Hotness app began to take off, Mr. Baker encouraged Mr. De Lombaert to treat himself to a new car. Mr. De Lombaert settled for a laptop. (He also put some money aside to help to pay his Stanford tuition.) They eventually sold the app to a dating Web site.

Facebook did not actively participate in the Stanford class. But some of its engineers attended sessions, and it benefited from the success of the students’ apps. “It really felt like an incubator,” says David Fetterman, a Facebook engineer who helped develop the applications platform.

View the original article here

Labadie Journal: In Haiti, Class Comes With a Peek at Lush Life

For years, Royal Caribbean Cruises Ltd., the cruise line corporation based in Miami, has run a private resort on a sandy promontory nearby — a playground of lounge chairs, bars and even an alpine coaster that shoots guests though the forest.

The company has leased the 260 beachfront acres, about 90 miles north of the nation’s capital, from the government since 1986. Several times a week, up to 7,000 people descend for the day when mega ships make berth here on a newly completed $34 million pier, offering a dizzying contrast to the poverty beyond the gates.

But in the wake of the January 2010 earthquake that devastated the capital, the cruise line evoked harsh criticism when it resumed docking pleasure ships at the resort for frolicking vacationers — just six days after the quake killed as many as 300,000 people, according to Haitian officials, and rendered more than a million homeless.

Then the company opened the cheery citrus-colored school complex just outside the resort’s heavily guarded chain-link fences in October, a move Royal Caribbean representatives said it was considering before the disaster and the scathing press it received afterward.

“We’ve been there for a long time and of course the problems in Haiti are enormous, and it’s hard for anyone to really make a significant dent in them,” said Richard D. Fain, the company’s chairman and chief executive. “We thought one of the places to start was with education.”

Still, the assistance was “modest,” he added. “We are a business. We’re not a charitable organization.”

Other projects include a water distribution system in the village of Labadie, said John Weis, an associate vice president. After the quake, the company donated around $2 million in aid and helped import relief supplies.

“I’m not saying we do this because it’s a completely altruistic motivation,” Mr. Weis said, “but I think that our management feels that we have a responsibility to make a difference down here.”

While residents seem to agree that the school is a boon to the community, the praise is tempered by doubts. Its mountainous location is far from the towns it serves, and its failure to provide any meals — leaving many children hungry throughout the day — has critics wondering why the company has not done more.

The World Food Program provided some food, but the company discontinued lunch a few months ago, citing sanitary concerns in preparation. A kitchen is being planned, but for now only a handful of parents can afford to provide lunch for their children, several teachers said.

The vast majority of the 200 or so students do not eat anything from early morning until they get home after school, teachers said. Some students fall asleep at their desks from fatigue.

“The school was built for underprivileged kids, but the way the school is functioning, it is for the bourgeois,” said Paul Herns, 29, who teaches fifth grade. He echoed a common sentiment: gratitude mixed with the feeling that the company, which had revenues of $6.8 billion last year, could do a lot better.

“Royal promised a school that was to be different from other ones in Haiti, similar to schools abroad,” Mr. Herns said. “Where children are fed and have access to sporting activities and taught some English skills to speak to foreigners; where they can surf the Web. These services have not yet been provided.”

Mr. Weis said meals were not promised.

The school itself is stunning and serene, a clean-swept haven from the several surrounding towns from which the students hail, where streets are choked with trash and the smoke of plastic bottles burning. It houses kindergarten through fifth grade and is run by a nonprofit group founded and led by Maryse Pénette-Kedar, a former minister of tourism and president of Royal Caribbean’s operations in Haiti.

Students are chosen by lottery, and around 20 percent are children of the company’s local employees.

 

Well: Gym Class: AntiGravity Yoga

Did you ever see an interesting class at the gym that you were too intimidated to try? Or maybe you need to freshen up your current workout routine?

The new Well video series Gym Class is here to help. Each month, I’ll take on the role of fitness guinea pig, trying out new and unusual exercise classes and rating them for difficulty, intimidation factor, intensity and fun — all from the point of view of an easily bored, slightly klutzy treadmill runner.

For my first Gym Class I tried AntiGravity Yoga, a fitness class that adapts the poses of traditional yoga for a large silk hammock raised off the ground. Sometimes called suspension or aerial yoga, AntiGravity Yoga was developed by Christopher Harrison, a former aerial acrobat and gymnast who found traditional yoga too hard on his injured wrists. The weightless poses can be used to strengthen the core as well as relieve aching joints and stretch tight muscles.

“People show up because it’s fun, but they come back because they feel healed afterwards,” he said.

To see what happens during an aerial yoga class, watch the video, taken at the Om Factory Yoga Center in midtown Manhattan, and check out the Gym Class ratings below.

What is AntiGravity Yoga? Yoga moves performed in nine feet of silk that is suspended from the ceiling like a swing.

Who’s it for? Moderate thrill-seekers. Bored yogis. Dancers and gymnasts looking for something new.

What’s the benefit? AntiGravity Yoga is great for stretching, working the core muscles and relieving stress — as long as you remember that it’s nearly impossible to fall out of the hammock.

Is there a learning curve? Be brave during class and you’ll be surprised at how you can follow along. After a few classes, you’ll be monkeying around with the pros.

Where does it hurt? The next day, you’ll feel it in your lower abs, upper arms and shoulders. Your upper hip area just plain hurts (or, in my case, is black-and-blue) from dangling upside down.

What should I bring? Wear long pants and a T-shirt with sleeves (to protect your skin from rubbing against the fabric). This is a “no socks necessary” kind of class, but be sure to pack a sense of adventure.

Best in-class review: “Ahhhh,” uttered by someone in the back of the room as she stretched out her lower back. (I was too disoriented hanging upside down to pick out who it was.)

Gym Class Rating (from 1 to 5):

Difficulty: 2Intimidation factor: 4Workout intensity: 1Fun quotient: 5

What gym class should I try next? Leave your suggestions below.