Building a Midshipman: How to Crack the USNA Application

Building a Midshipman is the story of one applicant’s journey from high school student to Midshipman in the United States Naval Academy.

It has been the bible for many military academy applicants, whether their goal is a spot at the Naval Academy, West Point, the United States Air Force Academy or the Coast Guard Academy. Now, Monday’s, I’ll serialize it on this blog for free. Of course, if that’s too slow, you can purchase the book on the publisher’s website or Amazon. Either way, you get lots of tips and tricks for cracking the Naval Academy application.

To be sure you don’t miss any of these:

• Subscribe to USNA or Bust by Email
• Sign up to the RSS feed

Here’s the third installment:

Chapter One–Part One

Who You Are

I am an American. I serve in the forces which

 guard my country and our way of life.

I am prepared to give my life in their defense.

I will never surrender of my own free will. If in command,

I will never surrender the members of my command

while they still have the means to resist.

— USNA Code of Conduct

Your name is Maggie Clara Schmidt, a freshman at the local public high school. You’re a muscular 5’6”, 135 pounds, with wavy auburn hair—permed once, but never dyed. You resisted the childhood fad of piercing ears or other body parts (lucky for you because the USNA now requires a waiver for all piercings and tattoos). Freckles pepper the bridge of your nose and high cheekbones declare your European ancestry. Dimples decorate your face every time you crack an unsolvable math problem, unravel the physics of an everyday event, or enjoy the humor of your friends. Clear eyes sparkle with a menacing intelligence that demands honesty and forthrightness from those who draw their focus. You value principles and hard work—which might make you an oddity on the high school campus if not for the similar group you’ve found. You can smell the rancid scent of disingenuouty, deceit, and posturing on those around you, like spoiled food.

For your entire life, you lived (past tense now that your official residence has become the Naval Academy)  in a middle-class two-story California home with a younger brother, two Labrador retrievers (bed Labs of course), and two parents. Across the street stretches a park where your AYSO and Club soccer teams practiced dribbling, where you perfected martial arts kenpos for competitions, where you struggled with the flexed arm hang for the USNA Physical Aptitude Examination, and sometimes where you just sat amidst nature to study.

It took seven years before your parents bought living room furniture, the couch so old even the Salvation Army refused it. Instead, they spent the money on music lessons and sports—and then tutoring when the full force of high school hit. You redecorated your bedroom once in soft pinks and purples, but never again because you stopped noticing the walls and bed covers. The room shrunk to the Desk—a compact space with books, papers, pencils—the accoutrements of a student.

Your heritage is imbued with the scent and feel of the military. Your Uncle spent twenty years in the Navy—starting as NROTC at New Mexico State University. One grandpa served as a Navy seaman during WWI and the other survived three wars as a proud Marine. Several cousins tried military life, but, like coraframs (USNA dress shoes) that you can’t wait to kick off of tired feet, it didn’t fit. You spent thousands of hours preparing for your Shaolin kenpo black belt with a Master Sergeant in the Marines. Test day, his military rigor and toughness brought both of you through. His son—a fellow martial artist—followed him into the Marines and you attended his boot camp graduation at the San Diego Marine Corps Recruiting Depot.

Between sports, music and studies, your life resembles the tightly woven fabric of the Navy’s dress blues. Since elementary school, your days have been a balancing act of physical activities, concerts, martial arts (what your mom calls a ‘life skill’), church and academics—a pentagonal foundation for life. Somehow, busy-ness replaced the popularity contest other girls spent hours a day pursuing. You tried only once to be “fashionable”—in sixth grade—but couldn’t quiet your outspoken tongue. It became clear that perspicacity soothed your spirit like comfort food, even as it charted new waters.

You practiced karate four to six hours a week, violin ten hours a week, spent at least five hours in church activities, and ten to fifteen hours in soccer. Not to mention studying. And if you had free time, you gravitated toward family activities. Your dad has a sharp sense of humor, his quick wit defusing many tense situations. You learned that trait from him—the value of jest in social interactions.

Both of your parents pursued careers in addition to parenting, until your brother’s fourth grade. That providential year, your mom retired to manage his learning difficulties, as well as maintain various and sundry bumps and potholes along childhood’s path—until your dad “retired” four years later. Though you didn’t understand it at the time, that confluence of events—an at-home parent just as your cerebral characteristics emerged—changed your life.

Unexpectedly, long-term parental unemployment produced few changes in your life.  In fact, you barely noticed it. You had already learned parsimonious lessons. No one in your family buys new clothes just to be in style, so you don’t feel denied. The important activities remain, like music lessons, academic tutoring, and sports. You never went to school hungry (you still struggle to control your weight, especially as you bulk up with muscle), although now the family eats what’s on sale. Boxed breakfast cereal almost disappears from the menu. Hardier and healthier food starts the morning—yoghurt, homemade granola, fruit, oatmeal. Mom cooks many meals from scratch—breads, candies, baked spaghetti. That makes you a hit with your friends. Your Dad begins cooking, too, and what a cook he turns out to be! Bar-b-ques, crock pot meals, Julia Child casseroles. Over time, you find that you despise fast food.

Sometime during high school, well into the unemployed years, you begin wondering how the family has enough money for everything. Your mom explains that they purchased the house fifteen years ago out of foreclosure, and now live on the equity. They husband their funds: nothing wasteful, but nothing lacking. This becomes your first real lesson in budgets, as you come to understand the trade-off made on a daily basis in balancing a finite amount of money against infinite wants and needs. And you learn to accept the hand dealt you by fate and God.

Truly, you are too busy to shop the malls, redo your wardrobe, or participate in parties and movies that other teens take for granted. Even if you had the money. Your parents put the family income (and eventually savings) into keeping the children busy, knowing that experiencing success results in self-confidence. The breadth of activities that fill your days and weeks means one always excels, even as another founders. Sometimes you win a karate competition. Sometimes, you score a hat-trick. And other times, you get the A in math you worked against all odds to get. In the end, you feel self-assured and in control.

Family vacations end up the mandated travel accompanying childhood. You sweat through a week in Ontario California competing in the American Youth Soccer Organization International Tournament (you lost). The death of your Grandma takes you to Wisconsin for four days. You and your brother spend nine days in a summer orchestra camp playing Grieg and Shostakovich. In high school, you participate in the Naval Academy and USAFA Summer Seminars, followed by three weeks at the University of Notre Dame’s summer science workshop.

But most summers, you attend summer school, either at the high school or the local community college, retooling weak classes and working ahead in other subjects. As do most of your friends.

(Chapter One continued next week)

If you don’t want to wait through the installments (or can’t)–or want to access the workbook, Building a Midshipman can be purchased here:

• Amazon.com (print book)
• Scribd.com (digital edition)
• Structured Learning (Publisher’s website–either)

Follow me.

Jacqui Murray is the editor of a technology curriculum for K-fifth grade and author of two technology training books for middle school. She wrote Building a Midshipman, the story of her daughter’s journey from high school to United States Naval Academy midshipman. She is webmaster for five blogs, an Amazon Vine Voice book reviewer, a tech columnist for Examiner.com, Editorial Review Board member for ISTE’s Journal for Computing Teachers, IMS tech expert, and a weekly contributor to Write Anything. Currently, she’s editing a thriller for her agent that should be be out to publishers this summer. Contact Jacqui at her writing office or her tech lab, Ask a Tech Teacher.

At USNA it’s called Naval Academey Summer Seminar (NASS). Here’s the blurb on USNA’s website:

The United States Naval Academy Summer Seminar is a fast-paced, six-day experience for high achievers who have completed their junior year in high school. Summer Seminar teaches you about life at the Naval Academy, where academics, athletics, and professional training play equally important roles in developing our nation’s leaders.  If you think that you may be interested in pursuing an appointment to one of the nation’s service academies and serving your country as an officer, you should seriously consider attending the Naval Academy’s Summer Seminar.

To apply, you must:

• Have completed your junior year
• Be 17 by July 1st
• Be unmarried with no children
• Demonstrate leadership and achievement in athletics
• Be physically fit and in good health
• Have a positive attitude

You pay $350 for the experience, plus travel, for 8 academically-focused 90-minute workshops on topics like oceanography, IT, Naval architecture, mechanical engineering, mathematics, history, and more. A typical day starts at 5:45 with breakfast, a morning workshop, lunch, afternoon workshop, a sports event or military drill instruction, dinner,a Special Event and then taps at 2300 so you can start all over again the next day at 5:45.

Sound good? Here’s better news: It’s open for applications. You have until April to complete it. Anyone planning on attending USNA or any military academy should apply for this event. You want as much information as possible about what it’s like to be part of that world before taking the Oath during Plebe Summer.

There are two great reasons (besides what I’ve already explained) for attending:

1. You get your first FitRep (Fitness Report) during those two weeks, although you don’t find out about that until you return home, when your B&G officer tells you. And, the USNA runs all participants through the CFA (Candidate Fitness Assessment). A requirement of admission, applicants either pass it during Naval Academy Summer Seminar (NASS), or retake it as part of their application package.
2. All NASS participants are automatically processed as applicants to USNA upon completion. There is no need to submit an additional preliminary application.

If you don’t get selected, it doesn’t mean you won’t be selected for USNA. There are only three summer sessions of 750 students each. There will be lots of applicants selected who didn’t attend.

Here’s a rundown on what the Summer Seminar experience was like for one of the successful applicants (taken from Building a Midshipman):

You wake at 4:30 a.m. departure day—after packing seven pairs of shorts, ten sets of socks, a few shirts (they’ll give you five when you get there), a bathing suit (you have water work) and shower sandals. Not much else, a book in case of free time (but that was non-existent). You hug your Labradors Stoney and Casey one last time, explaining to them the immensity of this event, climb into the family car and head off to the airport by 5:15 a.m. to catch the 6:45 flight.

The United Airlines flight takes you through Denver, home of the US Air Force Academy. The plane lands behind schedule at Baltimore-Washington International, leaving you a late-night thirty minute drive to your hotel, located close enough to the Yard (the USNA campus) for walking. That choice is fortuitous because Visitor parking on the Yard (the local’s name for the campus) proves difficult (as a Plebe, Mom and Dad get a FONA—Friends of the Naval Academy—pass allowing them access to on-Yard parking).

It has been a long day, but who can sleep? You and your father walk over to the “school by the bay” and watch. Look. Absorb the history and tradition you will be part of for six days—starting tomorrow. Despite the late hour, you aren’t the only wide-eyed high school age civilian wandering with parents. You also notice uniformed Mids briskly walking through the Yard, and groups of fit-looking Mids in work-out clothes sprinting the Yard’s many running routes.

Now, it’s 8 am, and you’re standing at the proverbial door to your future. A guard station with two Marines controls entry to the 338-acre institution once known simply as the Naval School and renamed the “United States Naval Academy” in 1850. Inside these walls lie the remains of John Paul Jones; the sword he used; his famous quote, “I wish to have no connection with any ship that does not go fast; for I intend to go in harm’s way”; the figurehead from the USS Delaware now known as ‘Tecumseh, the God of 2.0’ (for the Midshipman goal to get a grade point average of 2.0); and Freedom 7—America’s first space capsule.

This is where Albert Michelson first accurately measured the speed of light with just $10 worth of equipment (in 1878, he won the Nobel Prize for Physics), and where Midshipman Joseph Reeves invented the first football helmet. This is the spot where, just one month earlier, 1000 graduating seniors threw their hats into the air in celebration, and set off for their assigned duties. Inside is Tecumseh Court, where Midshipmen celebrated V-J Day by beating the Japanese bell until it cracked. A meander through this National Historic Site resembles revisiting treasured history, every building named for a famous American military figure.

It begins sprinkling—a precursor to the seven-feet of water and sludge Hurricane Isabel will drop on the Yard in nine months. The schedule you received before leaving home calls for running, so you innocently ask where that will take place (not outside because, good grief, it’s raining!). The Detailer (now called Cadre) assigned to greeting and meeting cracks a smile, and answers,

“We try to schedule all of our wars for sunny days.”

Sixty minutes later you’re wet and muddy, and part of the USNA Summer Seminar process.

Later, your dad tells you, after waving good-bye and losing sight of his only daughter, he wanted to give you spending money. He asked a Detailer  if he would mind finding you and giving you $20 (That’s right—in the USNA environment, $20—or 20 cents—would get to the intended party).

The young man replied,

“Mr. Mxxxx, don’t worry about that. Your daughter will have no time to spend money.”

From the uniformed Marines checking ID’s at the gate to the polite and friendly greetings of the Mids you pass to and from the orientation, it is clear that the comfortable rules and regulations of your ‘podunk’ civilian life have been replaced by YP’s, gouge, EI and the Dark Ages of USNA.

You blitz through the fastest week of your life. Some attendees don’t like being barked at. Mentally, you scream,

Just do what they say! They know how to train you!

You have no problem saying, ‘Sir! Yes Sir!’ over and over. You’re thrilled to rise early and sprint to the track for more running. You never feel like quitting because, what’s the big deal? It’s not Plebe Summer. It engenders a question of pride—even with your lungs burning and your legs chugging through the last quarter mile. Even when your Detailer tells the company:

“We’ll run longer because we’re the best!” And sends everyone on an extra half mile ‘longcut’—even then you don’t feel justified quitting.

You remember that run well: You were lagging further and further behind, the next Squad of Plebe wanna-be’s closing in and threatening to pass you. Your Platoon pushed you on, but your lungs had nothing left to give. Just as you decided to move off the path and get out of way, your haggard head lifted and spotted the finish line. There ahead, classmates slowed down, and doubled over as they gulped fresh air and tried not to throw up. Just ahead twenty steps. Ten steps… Five, and then, Done!! You knew you could make it! When the week ends, your company remains the only one without a single quitter the entire time.

You remember the time you forced exhausted arms through push-ups—again. One, two, three. You’re great at push-ups—it’s one of your strengths—but, the Detailer didn’t want push-ups anymore. Now he wanted you to stay in an arms-bent position and hold. So you held. Centimeters from your face, a worm crawled under your body, between your arms, toward your lowered chin. Millimeters from your mouth and nose! Oh well. You held, until the Detailer restarted the push-ups. What’s one worm?

You adopt Navy language as your own. Mother B, Plebe, the Yard, chopping in the hallways. You like chopping. Go Navy Beat Army!

Now you’re back from both Summer Seminars (You also went to USAFA’s version). You return to civilian life with a burning desire to attend the Naval Academy. Everything you observed—the honor, the commitment, the clear-eyed intelligence of potential classmates—convinced you your life path and destiny intersect at the gates of the Naval Academy.

They send you home with a good Fitrep report, a failed PAE (you couldn’t hang from a bar for eighteen seconds), and an oversize packet of USNA materials. You use your new USNA duffel bag to carry it. Go Navy! Beat Army!

–excerpt from Building a Midshipman: How to Crack the USNA Application

Follow me.

Jacqui Murray is the editor of a technology curriculum for K-sixth grade and author of two technology training books for middle school. She wrote Building a Midshipman, the story of her daughter’s journey from high school to United States Naval Academy midshipman. She is webmaster for five blogs, an Amazon Vine Voice book reviewer, a tech columnist for Examiner.com, Editorial Review Board member for ISTE’s Journal for Computing Teachers, IMS tech expert, and a weekly contributor to Write Anything. Currently, she’s editing a thriller for her agent that should be be out to publishers this summer. Contact Jacqui at her writing office or her tech lab, Ask a Tech Teacher.

Sgt. 1st Class Bryan E. Hall, 32 years old from Elk Grove, California
1st Battalion, 67th Armored Regiment, 2nd Brigade Combat Team, 4th Infantry Division
April 10, 2009

Bryan Hall, and five other soldiers, was killed on April 10, 2009 when a suicide bomber detonated a truck packed with explosives at a police station in Mosul, Iraq. Betty Hall said an Army commander told her that by ordering his soldiers to fire on the suicide bomber’s truck, her son probably saved many lives by preventing the attacker from entering the police compound.You can read more about Sgt. 1st Class Bryan Hall here.

These brave men and women sacrifice so much in their lives just so others may get to enjoy freedom. For that I am proud to call them Hero.
Those Who Say That We’re In A Time When There Are No Heroes, They Just Don’t Know Where To Look

This post is part of the Wednesday Hero Blogroll. For more information about Wednesday Hero, or if you would like to post it on your site, you can go here.

Building a Midshipman: How to Crack the USNA Application

Building a Midshipman is the story of one applicant’s journey from high school student to Midshipman in the United States Naval Academy.

It has been the bible for many military academy applicants, whether their goal is a spot at the Naval Academy, West Point, the United States Air Force Academy or the Coast Guard Academy. Now, Monday’s, I’ll serialize it on this blog for free. Of course, if that’s too slow, you can purchase the book on the publisher’s website or Amazon. Either way, you get lots of tips and tricks for cracking the Naval Academy application.

To be sure you don’t miss any of these:

• Subscribe to USNA or Bust by Email
• Sign up to the RSS feed

Here’s the second installment:

Congratulations! On being accepted to one of the premiere institutions of higher education in the United States.”

Those words from the United States Naval Academy, on an innocuous eight and a half by eleven sheet of stationary, delivered in a legal size envelope, are addressed to you, Maggie Clara Schmidt, Candidate Number xxxxxx.

You have awaited that envelope—sometimes filled with hope, but more recently with trepidation—for months.  During the humid June days of Summer Seminar, you were told an acceptance letter could arrive anytime after September. September arrived, and departed.  As did October.  And November. The new year rolled in and still no word. Then humbling news: A friend received his acceptance letter. You celebrated with him, but worried—when would yours arrive? Why did he hear first??  Will they take you?

Then the Administration invited you to Candidate Visit Weekend—this must be positive! Your Blue and Gold Officer agreed; they don’t invite everyone. You arrived in Annapolis in January, survived the freezing winter weather without complaint, returned home to California, and still no admittance. Lots of reassurances, but no letter.

Now, here it is, in your hand.

“You have the right to be extremely proud of yourself.”

And you are. You were always sure they would accept you—what’s not to like? Tears burst uninvited from your eyes, and a passing car slows to stare at your antics.

The first thing you do is post on IM (Instant Messenger):

“I’m in!”

Everyone you know understands what that means. You email a Plebe friend, and his reply addresses you “Midshipman Schmidt”.

That makes it official. For four years, you will be Midshipman Schmidt.  No longer will you be “Varsity soccer player Maggie Schmidt” or “Our concertmaster Maggie Schmidt”. You will be an employee of the United States  Armed  Services. Hooyah!

Congratulations pour in.

When you wear your USNA jacket (Sprint Football—from your Midshipman pal), people ask, “Are you in the Navy?”

“No, I’m going to the United States Naval Academy.”

“Wow. You must be smart.”  The moniker firmly tattooed onto USNA students.

Some people nod and smile, with no understanding of the path you have chosen. Military seniors talk about their Navy days, memories and advice for the newbie. It’s as though you now belong to the nation’s largest fraternity, a loyal bond of friendship forged by those who wear the uniform.

Your parents can’t stop smiling; their work is done. They’re sending their precious child into the proverbial “harm’s way”, to follow the noblest path available since man first engaged in war, and that’s a good thing. Girlfriends want to meet your male classmates; male friends ask why you want to fight. Your smart friends accept you into their MENSA club.

All of them feel extreme pride for you, their friend, and then pity that, while they spend last lazy days before entering the college classroom, you will be running and jumping and sweating through Plebe Summer.

But you don’t want a break.

It’s time to start your future.

You sit back and wonder what happened? Was it prestidigitation, or did they accept you for who you are?

And who are you?

Next week: Chapter One: Who You Are.

If you don’t want to wait through the installments (or can’t), Building a Midshipman can be purchased here:

• Amazon.com (print book)
• Scribd.com (digital edition)
• Structured Learning (Publisher’s website–either)

Follow me.

Jacqui Murray is the editor of a technology curriculum for K-fifth grade and author of two technology training books for middle school. She wrote Building a Midshipman, the story of her daughter’s journey from high school to United States Naval Academy midshipman. She is webmaster for five blogs, an Amazon Vine Voice book reviewer, a tech columnist for Examiner.com, Editorial Review Board member for ISTE’s Journal for Computing Teachers, IMS tech expert, and a weekly contributor to Write Anything. Currently, she’s editing a thriller for her agent that should be be out to publishers this summer. Contact Jacqui at her writing office or her tech lab, Ask a Tech Teacher.

Building a Midshipman: How to Crack the USNA Application

It has been the bible for many military academy applicants, whether their goal is a spot at the Naval Academy, West Point, the United States Air Force Academy or the Coast Guard Academy. Now, Monday’s, I’ll serialize it on this blog for free. Of course, if that’s too slow, you can purchase the book on the publisher’s website or Amazon. Either way, you get lots of tips and tricks for cracking the Naval Academy application.

To be sure you don’t miss any of these:

• Subscribe to USNA or Bust by Email
• Sign up to the RSS feed

Here’s the first installment:

Prologue

 What are the three most intimidating failures of your life?  Taking your driving test? Scoring the winning goal—for the other team?  Or, have you failed over and over again, and still believed success lives just ahead, just out of reach but waiting for you?

For the thousands of students who apply every year for one of the four military academies, slogging through the numbing concatenation of decisions preceding a nomination, there is no greater intimidation than the statistically likely event that they will apply and fail.  That’s an examination into the pithiness of moral fiber important to the USNA, and eulogized by James Stockdale, USNA ’46 and Medal of Honor Winner:

“The test of character is not ‘hanging in there’ when you expect a light at the end of the tunnel, but performance of duty and persistence of example when you know that no light is coming.”

For those just beginning the process of applying to the United States Naval Academy, propelled into harms way by the fervor to serve your country and blend your life into “the military family”, the desire for an engineer’s blueprint to articulate the steps, or a mathematical formula that quantifies the process is overwhelming.  Anything that will increase those unlikely odds.

Luckily, the tunnel you wander down pursuing your dream not only has a light, but footprints to follow. You stumble forward toward the murky pin-prick bobbing up ahead, far down the dark passageway. Its barely there, only just showing through the dimness called ‘growing up’ and the back-light of contradictions between where you are and where you want to be.  But, the closer you step toward it, the sharper and clearer the image.  And the clarity reveals the detail like the layers of a digital picture until, finally, you can make out that goal just past senior year. 

This true story is for you.

The United States Naval Academy provides one of the most prestigious educations available. The caliber of classes, professors, and your fellow students are unmatched anywhere in the country. But it comes with strings attached. You must use that top-notch training in the service of your country for at least five years following graduation, defending our shores and values from enemies, whether the aggressive military type, computer hackers, or benign fellows wearing the face of a neighbor.

Every year, over 56,000 students—and 112,000 parents—apply to a military academy, in excess of 14,000 to the United States Naval Academy.  How does a normal kid, with a good GPA, a well-rounded life, and a passion to serve his country overcome the mystique of the Naval Academy?  The first thought when adults hear ‘USNA’ and ‘college acceptance’ in the same sentence is ‘Wow, you must be smart!’ To all but about 1200 lucky appointees, candidacy resembles Fermat’s Theorem—impossible unless you’re a precocious genius (like Andrew Wiles).  The application process puts the chaos in Chaos Theory. 

Surprisingly, there are no classes in “How to Crack the United States Naval Academy Application” and no books chronicle an effective effort. Surprising, because a methodical, well-organized series of steps taken in a systematic order will get you there. It may feel like climbing Herndon at the end of Plebe year, but it works.    

This is the true story of how one All-American kid—like those many that apply—did it. She had no idea she could aim so high and succeed so succinctly.  She began by tagging along after her brother’s USNA dream and found herself intrigued by the quality of education, depth of opportunity, and eminence of applicants selected for admittance.  Her research into the typical Midshipman uncovered a profile alarmingly like herself. If she dreamt of attending a college where she fit in and attracted kindred souls, this qualified.

She took that first step, signing the attendance roster at a local Academy Night, with ninety-seven other students.  And with a clear-eyed faith in herself, she began the Academy Application Experience.  I’ve catalogued those steps from her first nascent thought through the unreal days of Summer Seminar.  I’ve crystallized when the dream became an obsession—something she knew she had to try or never forgive herself—and most important, how she translated vision to reality. 

And I’ve revealed her strategy to success. Exactly the same as the great Olympian, Carmen Boyle, described the strategy behind Luge:

“Lie flat and try not to die.”

Maggie Schmidt, the heroine, is Everygirl. Like your neighbor or your daughter’s best friend. The story’s drama lies in her conversion to a successful candidate.  The reader is left with the feeling, If Maggie can do it, so can (I)/(my daughter). 

When you first meet Maggie, you may wonder, why does she think an Ivy League school will accept her?  She doesn’t earn straight A’s or play quarterback on the football team—or center on the volleyball squad.  I describe in detail her background, her academic interests, her focus, as well as her struggle to put together a winning admissions package.  Along the way, you gain insight into the moral fiber that grounds everything she does and allows her to fight the good fight. The support from family and friends, and decisions she must make that superficially appear impossible for an adolescent, but are in fact achievable for thousands of like-minded teens.

This is a true story. The only changes I’ve made are Maggie’s name and those of friends and acquaintances.

Follow me.

Jacqui Murray is the editor of a technology curriculum for K-fifth grade and author of two technology training books for middle school. She wrote Building a Midshipman, the story of her daughter’s journey from high school to United States Naval Academy midshipman. She is webmaster for five blogs, an Amazon Vine Voice book reviewer, a tech columnist for Examiner.com, Editorial Review Board member for ISTE’s Journal for Computing Teachers, IMS tech expert, and a weekly contributor to Write Anything. Currently, she’s editing a thriller for her agent that should be be out to publishers this summer. Contact Jacqui at her writing office or her tech lab, Ask a Tech Teacher.

CAMP PENDLETON, Calif. 

Karla Comfort received a lot of looks and even some salutes from people when she drove from Benton, Ark.., to Camp Pendleton, Calif., in her newly-painted, custom Hummer H3 March 2. The vehicle is adorned with the likeness of her son, 20-year-old Lance Cpl. John M. Holmason, and nine other Marines with F Company, 2nd Battalion, 7 th Marine Regiment, 1st Marine Division who were all killed by the same improvised explosive device blast in Fallujah, Iraq, in December.

For Karla Comfort, having the vehicle air brushed with the image of the 10 Marines was a way to pay homage to her hero and his fellow comrades who fell on Iraq’s urban battlefield
‘I wanted to let people know (Marines) are doing their jobs honorably, and some of them die,’ said the 39-year-old from Portland, OR ‘I don’t want people to forget the sacrifices that my son and the other Marines made.’

Leading up to her son’s death, Karla Comfort had received several letters from him prior to his return. He had been deployed for five months, and Comfort ‘worried everyday he was gone until she got the letters and found out the date he was coming home,’ she said.

Marines knocked on the front door of her home in Farmington , Mich., at 3 am with the dreadful news.

‘I let my guard down when I found out he was coming home,’ she said. ‘There are times that I still cannot believe it happened. It’s very hard to deal with.’

Karla Comfort came up with the idea for the rolling memorial when she and her two other sons attended John’s funeral in Portland, Ore.

‘I saw a Vietnam (War) memorial on a car, and I said to my son Josh, ‘we should do something like that for John,’ she recalled. ‘He loved Hummers.’

She purchased the vehicle in January and immediately took it to AirbrushGuy &Co. in Benton, Ark., where artist Robert Powell went to work on changing the plain, black vehicle into a decorative, mobile, art piece.

‘I only had the vehicle for two days before we took it in,’ she joked.

Two hundred and fifty man-hours later, Powell had completed the vehicle. The custom job would have cost $25,000 Out of respect for Karla Comfort’s loss and the sacrifices the Marines made, AirbrushGuy &Co. did it for free. Comfort only had to purchase the paint, which cost $3,000.
‘I love it,’ she said. ‘I’m really impressed with it, and I think John would be happy with the vehicle He would have a big smile on his face because he loved Hummers.’

Karla Comfort gave Powell basic instructions on what to include in the paint job. But in addition to the image of her son in Dress Blues and the faces of the nine other Marines, there were several surprises. ‘He put a lot more on than I expected,’ she said ‘I think my favorite part is the heaven scene.’
On the left side of the vehicle, a detail of Marines are depicted carrying their fallen comrades through the clouds to their final resting place. The American flag drapes across the hood, the words, ‘Semper Fi’ crown the front windshield and the spare tire cover carries the same Eagle Globe and Anchor design that her son had tattooed on his back.

‘All the support I have been getting is wonderful,’ she said.

Karla Comfort decided to move back to her hometown of Portland, and making the cross-country trip from Arkansas was a way for her to share her son’s story. It’s also her way of coping with the loss.

‘Along the way I got nothing but positive feedback from people,’ she said. ‘What got to me was when people would salute the guys (Marines). It’s hard to look at his picture.
I still cry and try to get used to the idea, but it’s hard to grasp the idea that he’s really gone.’

Let’s get this Hummer going around the world,
We won’t forget!

Click to view slideshow.

Jacqui Murray is the author of Building a Midshipman, the story of her daughter’s journey from high school to United States Naval Academy midshipman.  She is webmaster for five blogs, an Amazon Vine Voice book reviewer, an ISTE article reviewer, a weekly contributor to Write Anything and mother of a Naval Officer and an Army grunt. Currently, she’s seeking representation for a military thriller that she just finished. Any ideas? Contact Jacqui at her writing office or her tech lab, Ask a Tech Teacher.

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Wreaths Across America has been profiled before and it will probably be profiled again because they are a great organization. For 20 years they have laid Christmas wreaths on the headstones of our fallen heroes at Arlington National Cemetery. And this year, for their 20th year, their goal is to lay a wreath on every headstone, all 220,000, and they need our help. Head over to Help Wreaths Across America Cover Arlington and there you can find information on how you can do that. Whether it’s via a donation or just getting the word out, anything we can do helps.These brave men and women sacrifice so much in their lives just so others may get to enjoy freedom. For that I am proud to call them Hero.
Those Who Say That We’re In A Time When There Are No Heroes, They Just Don’t Know Where To Look

This post is part of the Wednesday Hero Blogroll. For more information about Wednesday Hero, or if you would like to post it on your site, you can go here.

How to crack the USNA application

You don’t have to be a miracle-worker to be the 10% of applicants accepted to a military academy, but you do need a plan. For the thousands of students who apply every year–and slog through the numbing concatenation of decisions preceding a nomination–there is no greater discouragement than the likely event that they will fail. This, though, is the Board’s peek into an applicant’s moral fiber and an important ingredient to the go/no go decision. In the words of James Stockdale, USNA ’46 and Medal of Honor Winner: “The test of character is not ‘hanging in there’ when you expect a light at the end of the tunnel, but performance of duty and persistence of example when you know that no light is coming.” This is the true story of Maggie Schmidt, an All-American kid who dreamt of attending the Naval Academy when her research into the typical Midshipman uncovered a profile alarmingly like herself. This book describes her background and academic interests, her focus, as well as her struggle to put together a winning admissions package. Along the way, you gain insight into the moral fiber that grounds everything she does and the decisions she must make that some consider impossible for an adolescent, but are achievable for thousands of like-minded teens. This workbook walks you through the long process, provides check lists of everything required, decision making matrices, goal-setting exercises to determine if USNA is a good fit for you, and a mix of motivation and academic advice to balance a decision that rightfully might be the biggest one most teens have ever made. See the publisher’s website at structuredlearning.net for more details.

It has been the bible for many military academy applicants, whether their goal is a spot at the Naval Academy, West Point, the United States Air Force Academy or the Coast Guard Academy. Now, Monday’s, I’ll serialize it on this blog for free. Of course, if that’s too slow, you can purchase the book on the publisher’s website or Amazon. Either way, you get lots of tips and tricks for cracking the Naval Academy application.

To be sure you don’t miss any of these:

• Subscribe to USNA or Bust by Email
• Sign up to the RSS feed

The excitement begins next week. See you then!

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Jacqui Murray is the editor of a technology curriculum for K-fifth grade and author of two technology training books for middle school. She wrote Building a Midshipman, the story of her daughter’s journey from high school to United States Naval Academy midshipman. She is webmaster for five blogs, an Amazon Vine Voice book reviewer, a tech columnist for Examiner.com, Editorial Review Board member for ISTE’s Journal for Computing Teachers, IMS tech expert, and a weekly contributor to Write Anything. Currently, she’s seeking representation for a techno-thriller Any suggestions? Contact Jacqui at her writing office, WordDreams, or her tech lab, Ask a Tech Teacher.