Life
Empty Nest: Stressing Out at College Orientation (Me, Not Him)
He’s making friends, I’m all nerves.
The orders were to drop Sam off at his assigned dorm on Tuesday morning, 9 a.m., which we did after a wordless breakfast and a quick subway ride. It was a cool, cloudy day, and the place was easy to spot: It was the building with about 100 18-year-olds out front, looking pie-eyed and terrified, as if they were going on the Bataan Death March instead of embarking on the most carefree years of their lives. Sam gave me a quick peck on the cheek, and then allowed himself to be swallowed up by the crowd. John and I looked at each other with what I have come to recognize as a newfound tentativeness, the caption of which could read, Now what do we do? We had the whole day to ourselves until the first parent session at 5 p.m. We went to Starbucks, read the papers, had lunch with an old friend, and generally tried not to feel like amputees. It wasn’t that Sam hadn’t been away from us before, but at those times— travels with friends, his service trips to Mexico—we’d always known, as much as anyone can ever know, that he was coming back home.
I skipped the campus tour because of a business meeting, but John went, and happened to pass Sam with his group along the way. Sam looked happy, he reported—already chatting and laughing with new friends. Father and son nodded to each other, but didn’t speak. “It was like I was seeing him in a dream,” John told me, sounding awed and a little rattled. In the early evening we found ourselves on folding chairs in a lovely room with exposed brick walls, surrounded by equally enervated parents, listening to perfect strangers talking about our children. The speakers were all soothing and encouraging, but their language was the first indication that our jobs were over. No one used the word child, son, or daughter. Suddenly, our little treasures were all “students”—as in, Ask your student what is going on, because the school is prohibited by the Family Education Rights and Privacy Act law (1974) from telling parents about their child’s grades or mental states, for starters. (“We can tell you a lot, but please don’t ask us to break the law,” our speaker said.) We were introduced to various administrators, whose sole purpose seemed to be to make sure that our very own ... “student” had the best possible experience. Sam would have access to a full array of deans, professors, advisers, and peer counselors to help him make every decision. Briefly, it occurred to me that I had paid a therapist an enormous amount of money to learn to stop doing all those things for Sam, and now I was paying an army of people even more money to do it for me.
At the wine and cheese reception that followed, the most striking thing was this: No parent was particularly interested in meeting any other parent. At all. For anyone who had ever been a room mother, PTO officer, Halloween Carnival chairman, prom chaperone, etc., this was a watershed moment. The search for allies and the avoidance of enemies—the entire social framework required to best propel a child through school—had been rendered abruptly and completely moot with that college acceptance letter. There would be no trading of teacher gossip, no evaluation of the current principal, no opining over neighborhood real estate. “Maybe we’ll meet someone we might like to take to dinner,” John had suggested on our way to the event, but that wasn’t in the cards: We met some awkwardly divorced parents from Connecticut, some interesting parents from Cuba, but nothing really took.
Virtually all of the socializing was between parents and teachers, or parents and administrators. Here, the interactions were less like those at a cocktail party—no eyes roamed about the room—than those at a very nice sanitarium: Representatives from the school were aiming to reassure and calm. Suffice it to say that it was the first time in many years that I had a discussion with anyone about contemporary American poetry.
The next day at Parental Support 101, my anxiety level began to rise again. The Financial Aid speaker mentioned a Plan B (“In the event that one parent loses a job ...”). The Health and Wellness speaker informed us about binge drinking, and urged parents to ask their students whether they knew the signs of alcohol poisoning. (Just to make sure they do, a three-hour online course is required.) The difficulty of finding a private therapist in the city of New York was also mentioned.
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Comments
Very interesting. I don't
By: buggie | Fri, 07/31/2009 - 20:25
Very interesting. I don't remember my college having any activities for parents during orientation. The parents helped us moved into dorms and take care of some of the logistical stuff, like there was bank on campus to set up accounts and stuff, and I remember eating dinner with them that night, but there wasn't any orientation for them. Most of the parents seemed to leave that day or the next.
But man, until reading this I had forgotten how scary that first day of college was for me, and for my parents! My parents didn't go away to college, so the whole thing was completely new to them. I remember being ok until we ate dinner and I knew that all the logistical stuff had been taken care of and they would be leaving soon and I had nothing to do but return to a dorm full complete strangers. The first day of college is a traumatic experience!
Echoings...
By: Mrylln | Tue, 07/21/2009 - 11:57
Yesterday a.m. this trio enjoyed a similar expedition to Monmouth University, 20 minutes from home. When I reminded the Dad that he was really "going off to college," it inspired revelations, reminiscences, and emotions too precious to have missed. We truly enjoyed the peace for a few moments and reminded each other in our quiet living room that this was the future. We had been warned that any more than two text messages would result in the phone being turned off. Elated messages escaped from the uni throughout afternoon, and this a.m. I awoke to read, "Nice. This is fairly freaking awesome!"
Translation? After the rigors of froshitis, sophomoritis, junioritis, senioritis, graduationitis, and senior-summeritis, and barely surviving promitis, this is one milestone that brings with it a huge sigh of relief. Expected, anticipated, promised; finally it is realized as truly the beginning of a meaningful life's work.
I have yet to burn my two allowed text messages. Heh, heh. I'm saving 'em.
Slainte!
Mary Sweeney
www.BellaOnline.com/site/IrishCulture
A Bit Bizarre, but Enlightening
By: studentontherebound | Wed, 07/15/2009 - 20:14
To be fair, I went to a college half an hour outside my home town. I didn't live at home, but an Orientation was still required. I distinctly recall (it being about 6 years ago) my parents doing not much at all. I went to the Orientation alone (and got a parking ticket because I hadn't read the instructions correctly.)
Even at my small, public Midwestern college, I felt distinctly out of place without my parents, wandering from dorm or Orientation session alone. The tour of my dorm was especially painful-parents, or other students accompanied by friends, and me, all alone.
But then, I reasoned-I was an adult. This is kind of what I signed up for. My parents are incredibly busy-they don't even get vacation days for holidays (my father is a cop and my mom is a nurse. People certainly don't stop committing crimes or getting hurt on Christmas.)
I just hope I'll be as laissez-faire as my parents were, because having to navigate such unfamiliar water alone has given me a strong sense of independence and adaptability skills (Lost and alone in the middle of Tokyo? No problem!)
From a student's perspective
By: Ms_2B | Wed, 07/15/2009 - 17:16
I think I'm right in between the parents and students in this one, and I am appalled. When I went away to school, I did it all myself. I applied, got accepted, packed, booked flights and went. My dad dropped me off at the airport. I cannot believe the self-absorption of these parents who feel they have the right to raise kids who need to be accompanied to Uni. It's ridiculous. I'd have been horrified if my parents had just shown up like that.
I also never had the need for a nutritionist or a therapist while I was there. If anyone is reading this who had kids they've done this to - shame on you and start to back off NOW. don't cripple those poor kids because you have some insane need to mean something.
Yeah, I was there, too
By: nj_mom | Wed, 07/15/2009 - 11:46
Mimi, I think we were at the same orientation (that expensively exposed brick wall sounds familiar . . .) We're from the NYC area and my daughter is already comfortable on her own in the city, so she ditched me in Union Square to go to the dorm and I had a forlorn cup of coffee at Whole Foods. We're also the parents of one child, so for us too, it's a real loss. My husband and I will have to get a life! But full-time parenting was a wonderful ride while it lasted.
I work for a small state
By: Maureen_C | Wed, 07/15/2009 - 09:50
I work for a small state college. Our goal is to provide a private school experience for a state school price. The student teacher ratio average is about 17 students per faculty member and we have a decent counseling staff. I agree with the above poster that there are many private counseling options available in NYC. I did my undergrad and graduate degrees at CUNY. Students had access to private counseling with a sliding scale fee structure.
At my school here in the rural Midwest we have a nutritionist and psychiatrist visit twice a month. Private counseling isn't available for young adults without driving 50 miles. We don't even have a good ob/gyn within 50 miles. We have someone that visits once a month. Rural healthcare is a joke.
That being said. I enjoyed reading your post because our parents experience the same thing at our orientation. Last year my son started college and I slipped into the orientation session for parents run by a new person who had no clue who I was and it was enlightening. I learned that I had the potential to be a 'helicopter' parent so that was frightening. I also realized that although our campus is small it could be big enough for both of us if I could let go. I eventually was able to deal with my empty house and that my guy had to make mistakes and grow up.
He will soon transfer to a school in a large city so we'll see how that goes. I think they have an H and M and an Ikea so at least it will be fun to shop for him. Good luck to you and your son as you continue to adjust to your new roles.
No wonder tuition is through the roof
By: Fitzpatrick | Wed, 07/15/2009 - 09:49
The university seems to be doing a great job of separating the parents from the students and getting them to let go. Apparently it takes a small army of administrators and faculty to soothe mommy and daddy's fears. Why?
Thinking back on my own college days, my parents dropped me off for orientation, and I had a fun and informative weekend. They had a bunch of questions and got answers, but didn't worry much about whether every decision was perfect. I handled everything that I needed to, slept fine, ate fine, went to class, made friends. As my own son faces college soon, I expect he'll manage the transition just fine, too. Why the fear?
A mind-boggling statement
By: St Cheryl | Wed, 07/15/2009 - 09:16
"The difficulty of finding a private therapist in the city of New York was also mentioned."
If you were in rural North Dakota and not Manhattan, that might be true. I don't know where these college administrators get their information, but whoever told you that was completely wrong. Like most things in New York, it will not fall into your lap; you have to look around a little bit.
The neighborhoods around the main NYU campus, the New School and FIT (ie, Chelsea, the east and west villages) have more therapists per capita than any equivalent area in the United States, probably in the world, too. The area just south of Columbia (the upper west side) surrounding Juilliard, has marginally fewer. There are many low-cost training clinics where students can find inexpensive treatment from experienced therapists seeking additional credentials or training. Most schools' student health centers maintain a referral list of licensed therapists nearby. The LGBT Center on 13th St. maintains a list of gay-friendly therapists. Many therapists have brief ads in Craigslist. Insurance companies also maintain lists of licensed therapists. Most internists have informal lists of therapists to whom to refer their patients. I could go on.
From a staff perspective
By: SW | Wed, 07/15/2009 - 08:40
I work at a private liberal arts college where the students come from mostly affluent backgrounds. We also conduct orientation sessions for parents, and it was enlightening to read this piece from the other side of the fence. Mimi, your son will do just fine, especially if you step back and let him handle the little bumps that will inevitably come up. College staff and faculty are, for the most part, in this because we genuinely like working with students. We really do want to help students succeed--which is not always the same as giving parents what they want. I can tell you from experience that the students who flourish most are the ones whose parents take a loving, yet hands-off approach, not the ones who hover and step in every time there's a problem. It sounds like you're making a real effort to be the former. Kudos to you and your son.