The downside of tenure

I haven't updated in awhile. Amazingly, when you are writing a blog about college admissions, college admissions sometimes get in the way of my writing. The writing was also delayed because the college stuff that came in the mail was not quite ridiculous enough to post here. Sure, a line here, or a phrase there might strike me as odd, but not enough to interrupt my very busy TV schedule to take time to post. Then I came upon the Mount Holyoke financial aid letter.

The letter was not addressed to me, but as every kid knows come report card time, a letter addressed to "the parents of so-and-so" really means "hey kid, this letter is for you, open it right now." Okay, maybe that's not really what it means, but it might as well.

The letter was written by Diane Anci, Mount Holyoke's Dean of Admission. My suspicions, based on absolutely zero research, is that Ms. Anci spent many years in a cramped little admissions room for months on end reading essays about "How racquetball changed my life," and went a little eccentric. The only way she could get out all this nervous energy is through writing odd pieces. I would know, I do this in Civics every day.

The first paragraph of the letter is promising, it describes how hectic things must be in our lives, getting a child ready to go to college. This picture might apply to a one child family where the parent's only goal is to get their kid into a good school so they can have something to put in their Christmas letter, but in my house, my college search is not the center of our world. This kid-centric tone continued throughout the letter.

The college process is "beginning of letting go," so your daughter can live"the star spangled promise of her life," by becoming one of Mount Holyoke's "brilliant ambitious students." "You can start to let your daughter go," the letter concludes, "and watch her fly." Some might find this brilliantly touching, but I see a Dean going a little potty, and sending out supposedly sentimental notes.

At other points in the note, Anci uses enough literary devices to make the most greedy English teacher beg for mercy. Metaphor: "There's never been a more important time for young people to flex the muscles of the brain." Alliteration: "Cultivating a campus" "finances of college loom large, " and a disconnect from normal language--a little known device but an extremely common one--"Of course, we're not cavalier about practicality." Yes, because obviously if you use words that no one uses in conversation, you must mean business.

The letter also cannot stop fawning about Mt. Holyoke. Of course, this doesn't actually mean they use evidence to back up their information, just pretty pretty words. "This means cultivating a campus full of curious and motivated thinkers: our brilliant, ambitious students of course, as well as accomplished faculty that wins prestigious awards...add to this our world class facilities, rigorous and innovated curriculum, and notably diverse community." That sounds great, but it doesn't really mean anything.

Most college kids are curious. Many are curious about how drunk they can get before they become best friends with the toilet. Ambitious could mean that a student trying to become a level 40 orc during history class. The professors could have won "Hottest prof over 40" for all we know, and diverse could mean that they have upper class white kids and middle class white kids. I doubt that a good school like Mt. Holyoke, this is what any of that means, but vague self praise is confusing and boasty.

I also do not doubt Diane Anci's abilities as a dean since I'm sure she does a good job, but I think the school should let her out once in awhile. It might do her good.

Just how easy is it to be green?

Do you know what I love? A college that completely ignores my interests.

When I took the PLAN and the PSAT, there were sections asking about your grades and school career to help colleges scout students. One section asks what career or area of study interests you. On both tests, I answered either Television or Creative writing, or something to that effect.

I got an email the other day from Stony Brook College Southampton. The email told me about their exciting green technology curriculum. What? Apparently they think that the green boom is so big that every student, everywhere, will drop their original college plans, and race to apply to Stony Brook.

The problem is that many schools now have green technology programs, if not majors. Most of them, though, only show it off to students who have already shown interest in similar programs. Just because I'm "focused on my future" doesn't mean I'll be swept off my feet by a green technology program.

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.