You’d think my 17-year-old son, Luke, was the Einstein of the Upper East Side by the way colleges are courting him these days. Opening the mailbox is like opening the door to a clown car; from this tiny space the contents just keep coming out.
Luke, you’re the kind of student whose success and potential we welcome here at… Luke four years here will change your life… Luke, be our guest… This special application has no application fee for you, Luke.
It’s enough to make even the most streetwise New York City teen think he’s a shoo-in at the higher education institution of his choice. Until he experiences his first Road To College night.
The school’s guidance counselor moderated the sobering evening—a discussion among four admissions directors from a small, medium, and large institution, plus one Ivy. “We don’t want to see just grades or scores, we want to see extracurricular activities that show us what you’ll bring to our community,” said Small. “How important is the essay? Very. Make me laugh. Make me cry. Make me feel something in the first sentence, or else I move on to the next one,” advised Medium. “Our hockey team is number one in the Northeast; we’re not going to let you in because you’re a really good pond hockey player,” offered Large. Then Ivy chimed in with, “If your combined SAT scores are not over 2000, I’m afraid we won’t even look at you.”
Luke just looked at me. “But all the letters make it sound like they already know about me and want me.”
Of course, the college mailings don’t make promises, but they do speak to the student as though he’s already enrolled.
In your freshman year you’ll do this. Your dorm room that. School colors are the new black and you’ll wear ours proudly at the games where you’ll cheer for The Bears or Wolves or Parrots—insert any mascot.
Academia now engages in the age-old practice of enticing someone in order to initially get them interested then once they are, backing off to make them chase the thing they thought they already had.
The more I thought about the college admission process, the more I realized it could be a teachable moment for Luke and his peers. After all, getting into college isn’t very different from everyday adult life—getting a job, falling in love, buying a house, making business deals, making new acquaintances, and working on relationships. In our “say one thing yet do another” world, people don’t always back their words with actions and often blame it all on “miscommunication.”
We experience this a lot in life, whether it’s a school that’s sent you college pride paraphernalia to hang in your room and then ends up rejecting your application; the headhunter that tells you “the job is yours,” until notifying you that it went to someone else; or the significant other who insists on taking your relationship to the next level, and then never calls you again, ever. All these give way to wondering: “Why did they say it if they didn’t really mean it?”
There have been many times in my life when, without seeking the attention, accolade, or invitation, it just came to me. Not only that, but it felt right; seeming to fulfill some fortune cookie prophecy as the object of my desire suddenly appeared. And the people doling out the honors are always so sincere. So how can we not believe them? And why do we feel so stupid when the faith is betrayed? I’ve come to find, it’s not about us.
No institution of higher learning is out to dupe a high school senior. No corporation is trying to screw with those who submit resumes because Tuesdays are usually slow. And, most the time, our romantic partners (unless they were raised by Miss Havisham) aren’t aiming to hurt. No, we just happened onto the path of their agenda.
They put out the very thing they themselves desire: admiration and praise. “You’ve got what it takes. You’re one of the brightest of the bunch. You’re a cut above the rest. ” The more students they say it to, the more there will be competing for limited number of coveted spots in their school or company or heart. Then they’re the ones who feel sought after and, like a bouncer in charge of an exclusive club’s velvet rope, have their pick.
And what does that say about us? Is it that we’re so desperate to be chosen, or do we just not want to work that hard to be wanted?
Perhaps that’s what we need to work on; to acquire enough cynicism not to jump in with abandon, but not enough that we rebuff overtures with little or no investigation. Finding that perfect balance could keep our feet firmly on the ground when we find ourselves dealing with those who compulsively promise the moon.
Lorraine Duffy Merkl is a freelance writer in NYC and author of the novel, FAT CHICK. Learn more about her writing at lorraineduffymerkl.com.
