Commentary: Mom's lesson from the college search
Elizabeth Eisenstadt Evans is a writer in Glenmoore My son and I almost never fight. Life with this balanced, curious, and fiercely independent child has, by and large, been serene, even joyful.
Elizabeth Eisenstadt Evans
is a writer in Glenmoore
My son and I almost never fight.
Life with this balanced, curious, and fiercely independent child has, by and large, been serene, even joyful.
But in this spring of his senior year in high school, Colin and I found ourselves caught up in college admissions mania, a process that engendered not only disillusionment but bickering, disappointment, and, ultimately, some cathartic, necessary, and very difficult conversations.
The last time my son and I had found ourselves at odds was when I urged him to try the then-new public high school opening in our school district, the STEM Academy. A few days into the fall semester, Colin knew he was in the right place. Student government, the school TV studio, theatrical productions, talent shows, a countywide student forum - he seemed to be everywhere. His grades, while not perfect, were very good.
Strikingly, this effort on his part was self-generated. His friends, his interests, his temperament: All seemed to suggest a challenging school - if not an Ivy, then a baby Ivy. Colin was guided by his own compass, not that of his prestige-skeptical parents.
Eschewing commercial SAT prep courses and private tutors, we set out on college tours in blissful ignorance, guided by the expectations that seem to govern so many middle- and upper-middle-class families. No wonder that, in the course of our travels, we ran into some of the same families. We were genteel trophy hunters, and the colleges our prey - or perhaps it was the other way around.
DartmouthDavidsonAmherstHamiltonWashingtonandLeeMiddleburyUVA - eventually they all started to blur together in my mind, a stew of white-columned, redbrick, handsome libraries, and enthusiastic tour guides.
It wasn't until the acceptances and rejections started to roll in around April 30 that I realized how woefully clueless I had been.
While Colin got into some of the exclusive schools to which he had applied, he wasn't, apparently, financial-aid eligible for any of them. And though his dad (a retired minister) and I (a pastor-turned-journalist) could have dug deep into our retirement savings to augment 529 contributions (or he could have taken on substantial debt), coming up with the approximately $250,000 it takes to fund four years at a select school was one bridge too far.
Absent the small liberal arts college of my fantasies, Colin was drawn to a Washington institution. That school had given him a merit scholarship - generous but nowhere near as generous as the full tuition subsidy to a Philadelphia-area school.
Attend the local university (a highly reputable school, by the way), I argued. Save the money for graduate school. Drawn by seminars with former diplomats and foreign-policy experts, he is determined to find his way to Foggy Bottom.
In Where You Go Is Not Who You'll Be, New York Times columnist Frank Bruni examines the roiling cauldron of insanity that the college admissions process can become for families. For some, admission to a highly selective institution becomes the Holy Grail to be sought by marshaling tutors, preparatory schools, and an array of dubious tactics, from charm offensives to outright lies. Though the overall tone of the book is positive (what you make of your college experience is much more important than where you spend it), the volume is rife with stories of obsessive parents, anxiety-ridden kids, and colleges that vie to appear both extraordinarily discriminating and hugely desirable.
A few words of advice, based mostly on my mistakes:
Know that the process many schools use to decide whom they will admit and reject isn't only arcane - it's broken. If you define success by which college your children get into, you risk their self-esteem and your sanity. Don't get caught up in the madness.
Talk with your kids well in advance about the values and ethical compass that will shape their college decisions. Tell them how proud you are of what they have accomplished, and will continue to accomplish wherever they are.
Don't let the raging storm of expectations knock you over, or destroy the family foundation you have spent so many years building. If money is an issue (and the sticker price for higher education is truly ludicrous right now), have a frank discussion before you have to cope with the exorbitant reality - or look at the plethora of more reasonable (if not cheap) options.
Know what matters to you - and what you are willing to sacrifice to make it happen.
Like Henry Higgins and Colonel Pickering, Colin and I have returned to our amicable routines. Time is racing by, too precious to waste bickering about geography or name-brand recognition. In Colin's case, he has decided to do a gap year of service, time in which to explore the world and further define his trajectory.
You know this already: Where your child ends up going to college isn't the last word on his or her future.
Now all you have to do is believe it.