It’s that time of the year when teenage (and parental) angst can hit the roof. Will he/she get acceptance from the college of choice?
Today’s WSJournal article on the titans, moguls and newsmakers who were rejected by the college of their choice made a very serious blunder. A very serious mistake. The article pivoted on the experiences of the kid who gets the rejection. Clearly, Sue Shellenbarger of the Journal does not understand that the high school senior is not the only one with admission angst. Often, it’s the parents. And that’s not true only of the helicopter parents of today’s Gen-Yers.
I’ve been around the barn on that issue with plenty of parents--as well as with myself and my own daughters, now in their forties. It’s not a completely fun period for parents, even those of us with the psych background to understand the not-so-healthy-stuff going on in our own heads. We parents have a lot invested in our progeny, want them to have the best, and many of us are willing to do whatever necessary to make that possible. As a result, though the entire process was exciting, I found it filled with tension.
My own experiences as a parent may be revelatory. Though tempered by time, I still have strong and fond memories of my daughters’ college decision, selection and acceptance processes.
The eldest, who graduated from high school in 1962, had a sterling grade point average and resume. Her high school advisor had told us that she deserved to go to one of the top schools. Prior to that conversation, I had never thought in those terms.
My daughter and I spent several days going through college catalogs at the local university until she (we?) decided that the U of Chicago was the place for her. Just the pictures of that school were a heady experience for this blue-collar dad. Inevitably, we went to see the famed institution and to check out Northwestern. Of course, we were enthralled by the “Chicago gothic and ivy.” But we were unbelievably awed by the faculty, the school’s resources and its history. My daughter was at the admissions meeting with another 50 or so potential students for about 30 minutes, walked over to me and said, “OK, Dad. This is where I’m going to go. We can go home now.” I wanted to take her to Northwestern but she let me know in no uncertain terms that she was duly disinterested, so we just went straight home. A couple months later the thick envelope was in the mail. It never crossed our minds that anything other than acceptance would be her experience, that is, until two colleagues of mine admitted that their kids had been rejected.
Of course, she loved Chicago and the only occasional negative was the work load. As the student web at Chicago says, “The most academically rigorous college in America.” I suspect that’s true.
Although she had two backup colleges that were offering full scholarships, that went nowhere. I went into hock, but it was one of the four or five best investments I’ve ever made.
By the time our middler was thinking college, I had left my faculty position and was consulting. My income put an end to fears of monstrous college expenses. That second daughter, not the academic superstar, settled on Boston University with Ripon and U MN for backups. I sent her to Boston where she met a "crazy" buddy of mine, the associate minister at Memorial Church, Harvard, who willingly squired her around BU with his wife, a BU student. I was very happy with her choice of the College of Basic Studies at BU because I’d always thought that she had some academic catch-up work to do. She’d had some physical problems, gotten behind academically, and needed those first two years in CBS. I wasn’t certain whether it was her doing or my buddy’s playfulness, but when she got off the plane from Boston she had an army camouflage jacket and hat with an unlit cigar in her mouth. My wife and I doubled over with laughter. When I asked whether she’d be smoking that stogie, she responded with, “I don’t think so.” She didn’t smoke it.
When she failed to get admitted on early decision, but was put on the wait list, I found it more painful than she. I was crushed. I remember her chiding me: “Oh dad, give it up. I’ll survive, so you can too. Let’s look at the backups.” As I think about it now, my feelings were childish, and my daughter was more mature about the rejection than I. But I was quite certain she would be missing out on a unique opportunity, not easily duplicated elsewhere. I remember being in the doldrums for a week or more.
So, we got everything going for Ripon, an easy admittance for her. But a month later, we had a celebration when she was admitted to BU. CBS was a phenomenally superb place for her. As an academic, I believe that she was able to catch up with her academic losses from high school.
But our youngest was perhaps the most unique. She was . . . well, you know. Midwestern, motherhood, apple pie, cheerleader, academic brain, motor mouth and a willowy blonde beauty to top it all off. (After college she modeled in Europe until I suggested rather firmly that modeling was a disease, not a vocation. She came home after a year, went back to a graduate professional school and has a fine job as a professional now.) Yeah, and with all her personality goes a problem that I hadn’t been able to help her resolve. She had a strong sense of entitlement that I knew could be problematic. My concern about that issue went deep into my gut, causing me to struggle emotionally with its meaning and resolution. I was too aware that those entitlement expectations were at least partly my own failure as a parent. Thankfully, her experience as a mother, a professional, and life, have enabled her to succeed at managing an overweening sense of entitlement.
But finding the right college for her was difficult. Not Chicago, because she didn’t want to compete with her sister. Besides, Chicago was “nerd city.” Not Northwestern, because “the students look like the buildings. All the same.” And not Swarthmore, because it “didn’t feel right,” (that’s a valid decision for a teenager).
While in the Philadelphia area, she went to the admissions office at Penn to talk to their staff. Curious about a four hour session in admissions, she told me that after talking to her, seeing her grades and SAT scores, they started helping her fill out an admissions application right then and there. She brought the financial aid material home to me, and then sent back her already completed personal profile. Surprised by admission’s response to her, I called my buddy at Harvard wanting to know what was going on. He responded with a lot of laughter, described my daughter with a great deal of accuracy just to confirm that his memory was on target. I’ll never forget my shock at his response (this was in 1967). “My daughter,” he said with much laughter, “was a classic Midwestern WASP. Penn would be absolutely delighted to add her to their ethnic mix.”
Although her admission to Penn was nearly guaranteed, she wanted a trip to New York City to look at Columbia University’s Barnard College. Without saying anything about the issue, I had long since decided that Barnard might be the best place, not only for her education, but also for her to have to deal with those entitlement issues that were beyond me. I was quite certain that New York confrontations would either make or break her, and I was quite willing to gamble on it making her. All of the Erwin females are tough, tough women.
By the time she was accepted at Barnard, I was both fatigued and happy for her. Needless to say, she had to confront the entitlement “stuff” almost immediately, but she did so with both pain and eventual success.
I’m very aware in writing this that the possible rejection of our children was of far more concern than any rejection I’ve ever had in business or all of my life since their birth. I had much more riding on that experience, though some of it was psychologically inappropriate. I'm also aware that, once again, truth may be stranger and more interesting than fiction.
In the Journal article, Shellenbarger interviewed others who received college rejections, including Warren Buffett, Ted Turner, John Schlifske of Northwestern Mutual, the Nobelist Harold Varmus, and Meredith Vieira of the Today Show.
I found the advice of Lee Bolling, President of Columbia University, who was rejected by Harvard, to be among the most thoughtful. Don’t let rejections control your life. To allow other people’s assessment of you to determine your own self-assessment is a very big mistake. The question really is, who at the end of the day is going to make the determination about what your talents are, and what your interests are? That has to be you. That’s very true for us parents as well as for our kids.