College pamplets: Where Logic Goes to Die

The town I live in has a heavy agricultural background. The FFA fair is the biggest event of the year. Half the kids at my high school own goats, pigs, or cows. I have a few chickens of my own in the backyard, yet I was stunned by just how hickish Grinnell college's booklet was.

Grinnell College is located in the middle of Iowa, and they aren't ashamed. Every page displays a picture of a cow, some corn, or a farm. One page even features a collage version of American

Gothic.

Stylistically, some of the elements are very cool. The pages of the books are all fold out flaps, which, because I'm more easily fascinated than a six year old, kept me amused for way too long. The book itself looks good as well, but it's not put together perfectly.

At times, the page's picture has nothing to do with Grinnell or the page's topic. The page on financial aid proclaims "we are in search of those in search of wonder and knowledge. Students of life, lovers of learning, collaborators, and creators. People who want a profound liberal arts education." The statement does do a good job emphasising that they want students interested in education, and will help worthy students make it there. The picture is of a little boy eating corn. What? Forget that the lines aren't complete sentences (and really, should anyone go to a school where they can't even put together a proper sentence?), the little boy eating an ear of corn has nothing to do with financial aid.

Another page proclaims "Next door has an entirely different meaning here" and goes on to talk about their study abroad program. The picture is a cow with a saddle on its back. There's almost a connection there, but I can't quite figure out what it is. It's one of those "so close and yet so far" things that perplexes and annoys instead of...well, whatever it is a picture of a saddle on a cow is supposed to do.

My favorite page of all though, is a strange one. It has a picture of a woman swimming in a clear pool filled with gigantic beans. It's accompanied by the quote "Amber waves of grain, soybean seas of grain, one swimming championship after another." Once again, what? The inside flap features the headline "everyone plays." For someone like me, whose sports career ended after kindergarten softball-tee ball, this is just the tiniest bit intimidating. Less intimidating, soybeans.

Grinnell college is not ashamed to let their hick flag fly. It's also not afraid to defy logic and grammar. So, if you want to go to a school where ten year olds stand around eating corn, and girls swim with giant soybeans, that might be the place for you.

A Priest, a Rabi, and a Williams Professor Walk into a Bar

The gold standard for college letters is the University of Chicago. One half of the postcard gave you an idea of student life through tidbits about school events--a goal of their scavenger hunt was to make a bat signal over the campus, a past admissions essay asked students to relate themselves to a Cartesian plane, silly bits of information like that. The other half of the card was for a response. It would ask what was on your bookshelf, or tell you to color the school's emblem, then send it back so they could hang it on a wall in the admissions office. The university used wit and brevity to create a memorable advertisement.

Williams College in Massachusetts apparently decided to try to be just as funny. I know this, because their cover letter told me.

"You hold in your hands the Williams Prospectus. I hope you will find its slightly irreverent tone both refreshing and informative. I also hope, after sometime perusing its pages, you'll decide to pay us a visit."

Okay, if you want to be irreverent, don't use the term irreverent, or prospectus, or perusing.

The Prospectus (which is apparently the proper name for the college booklets I keep getting) tries. On the front page it cites the percentage of alumni who think Williams is a good enough school that it shouldn't need brochures. They also try to lighten the statistics portion by including the percent of Williams students who watched less than an hour of TV each week. As someone who often watches more than an hour of TV per night, the number makes me think of Williams students as stuck up fuddy duddies.

This period of joviality (at least, by Williams' standards) could not last. By page twelve of the daunting 53 page "brochure" they're back to their old highfalutin ways.

"These are but three of 315 stories of faculty members who make their livelihood by contributing on both micro and macro levels--to their students' development, to their respective fields, and to the world at large."

Boy, those Williams kids sure do know how to have fun.