Presidents' weekend is the first real opportunity of the new year for college tours. So on Saturday morning I folded my 6'3" son into the car and got on the turnpike, along with every other family with a high school junior in the state of New Jersey. We were headed to two colleges, the University of Virginia in Charlottesville, and Georgetown in Washington.
And after 15 hours of driving, much of it to a raw rap soundtrack (if you have to ask, you are lucky indeed!), here's what I learned: There's no reason for parents to go on these tours.
First of all, what parents want in a college and what our kids want have nothing in common. I loved Georgetown, with its hulking Gothic buildings and statues of Jesus on the cross. Throw in a nun with a ruler and I'd be right back in my childhood. But my son found the atmosphere creepy and noted that, although two cemeteries were prominently located on the campus, he couldn't find a student health building. At least none of the graves are fresh, I tried to joke, but no sale.
Another reason for parents to stay away is that we ask idiotic questions. We want to know if the cafeteria can accommodate Johnnie's food likes and dislikes, and is there an appeal process if Susie gets thrown out for cheating. We wonder out loud if there's laundry service. On tiny campuses in the middle of nowhere, we grill the student guide about security. What are we worried about? That cows from the nearby farm will break loose and stampede the football stadium during the homecoming game?
But the most important reason that parents shouldn't go on college tours is that, as we peer into classrooms and student unions, what we're seeing is the future. A college tour may be the first time that we're forced to see that our kids are ready to move on, and without us. The kids size up the students who walk by, trying to picture themselves as one of them. They stand apart from their parents, pretending that they're there on their own. The parents instinctively react by clinging to their children, hugging them more than they've probably hugged them in years. It's mortifying for teens and sad for parents.
So here's what I propose: Colleges should insist that parents drop off their kids for the tours, then head over to the Parent Spa. Here anxious parents can get a massage and ease our shoulders down below our ears for first time since the school year began. We can attend a meditation session, where the mantra is "It will all be fine." At the coffee bar, we can sip cappuccinos and lattes while listening to speakers on topics like "You Used to Have a Life, and Now You Can Again," and "Should You Just Send the Younger Kids to Boarding School and Be Done with It?"
Colleges can charge exta for this service. I mean, if we're already contemplating paying $45,000 a year for our child to attend their institution, I don't think we'd hesitate to shell out a little more to feel better about things. It would certainly put us in a better frame of mind for the long drive home, especially if we get to control the radio dial.
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