By John Lemuel

Dear Prospective Student: I'm so glad to hear you may be interested in a closer look at our college. If you do visit, I'd be happy to spend some time with you plugging the place. Is that too blunt? You'll have to pardon me, but I'm new to the business of turning leads into prospects, and prospects into admissions. Normally faculty members aren't asked to help out with the admissions process, but this year ... well, let me just repeat how glad I am to hear you may be interested in our college.

Dear Hot Prospect: I'm finding out this year what the admissions office means by "hot prospect." And from the look of things, any prospect fits the bill. Word is you've got what we're looking for; I guess the mailing address you wrote on your response card must be what the admissions folks have in mind, because there's not much else to discover about you. No phone or e-mail address; no interests, hobbies, or extracurricular pursuits; no alumni among your relatives or acquaintances; no familiarity with our college at all. But you did list my field as a possible major, so I have the pleasure of guessing how to make us your first choice. Here's hoping you'll open the envelope.

Dear Campus Visitor: Nice to meet you during the 10 minutes between my classes this morning. I appreciate how tight your schedule must be, what with the 90 minutes the college scheduled for your tour of the campus (which can be walked end-to-end in 12 minutes on crutches in a headwind). Between that and the 90 minutes allotted for your lunch, it's good you worked in a long meeting with your future coach. Judging from the letters, pins, and ribbons adorning your varsity jacket, you'll likely see more of him than me anyway.

Dear Prospective Student's Mother: It is fascinating to hear how many phone calls your child receives from the track coach at the other college he's considering. Presumably you'd like me to nudge our track coach to do the same. I can mention it, but it sounds like he'd probably just get a busy signal. Your son really might be as spectacular as you believe. But I'm guessing that the other college is even more desperate to make a freshman class than we are, judging by the tuition discount it's offering your son in the guise of a scholarship.

Dear Hot Prospect: Does it strike you as wrong for a forty-something professor to refer to you as hot in any context? It does me. Perhaps as one who never scored that blasted chili pepper on RateMyProfessors.com, I am simply too sensitive about the casual use of the word. The admissions counselor is the one calling you "hot," not me, and come to think of it, he's much closer to your age than mine. I'm not sure that makes it any better.

Dear Panicked New Arrival: To follow up on our conversation in my office, you seem to be grappling with bigger questions than those we discussed. It might help you to think of things this way: College is four years or so, but we do it one semester at a time, and a semester is only 15 weeks. My course meets twice a week, so we're talking about 30 days—one month—all spread out among the other stuff you have going on. Will you give me that month and see how it goes? I think you can do this.

Dear Campus Visitor: It was nice to meet you and your mother today. She certainly had a lot of questions, and it was my pleasure to answer them. But since you scarcely said a word, had no questions of your own, and let her answer the ones I asked you, it leads me to wonder if you are half as motivated about college as she is. When she asked how to format block quotes in the papers for my course, it led me to wonder if it wouldn't just be better for her to come take the class, and let you stay home. That would save you the inconvenience of having her proofread your papers. Did I say "proofread"? I meant "write."

Dear crazypimpedoutwhiteguy: Seriously? You're going to use that e-mail address to apply to college? Because you don't have to; there are oodles of free e-mail providers out there. You can keep that one to use with your friends, and get rid of the respectable e-mail account once you've been accepted. If the name you want is not available on one provider, you can surely find it on another. No? You're good? Sure about that? Okaaayy.

Dear Nontraditional Transfer Student: So nice to meet you today. I feel like I really got to know a lot about you in a short time. If I may be so bold, you might aim to eliminate some redundancy when describing your many career transitions. The overuse of expressions like "got tired of putting up with me," "had enough of me," and "got fed up with me," when describing your high-school teachers, parents, past employers, and professors in your previous major, can start to grate on the ear. Try to mix it up and, at the same time, sound more academic, with expressions like "thoroughly exasperated with me" or "frustrated by my stubborn existence." The words "existential crisis" even came to mind as we spoke. I sense some rich possibilities there to explore.

Dear Future Student: OMG, how fun that you friended me on Facebook! It seems you're not one of my majors, but I do see that you're enrolled in my course for next term. So I guess we'll meet then. In the meantime, not to pry, but your junk keeps showing up in my news feed. Are there any apps you don't add? As flattering as it is to be invited to join you in every last one of them, I'd rather not know your result on the "Which Diva Are You?" quiz or see your every move on Farmville and Mafia Wars. And that video where you seem to be shoplifting—that was staged, right? Can't wait to meet you in person.

Dear Ambitious Applicant: I'm pleased you want to come to our college and major in my social-sciences field. Unless it's a mistake, the paperwork says you also hope to be pre-med. Since I've been here no one has combined those two fields, but you could be the first. Furthermore it says you'll play football at the same time. This raises some concern. Although you could prove to be the exception, most football players who come to us from your state are used to being "taken care of" academically. They often tell us so themselves, once they find they're having grade trouble. So, by all means, good luck with that double major, but if you need to, we can meet to discuss your alternatives any time you like.

Dear Dazzling Prospect: Wow, you're too good to be true. Articulate written statements; organized, thorough, neat application materials; academic transcripts without any holes; standardized-test scores above the curve. Have you got any friends in your AP classes you could bring with you? From the look of things, your freshman cohort may offer more in the realm of convivial recreation than intellectual stimulation. On the bright side, your odds of graduating first in your class four years from now look pretty good. So nice to find you among our applicants; can't wait to meet you in the fall. Please come. Please?

John Lemuel is the pseudonym of an associate professor in the social sciences at a small liberal-arts college in the Midwest.