College Visiting Better than Bearable

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College visiting can be better than bearable with only a modicum of advance planning. Keeping the basics managed—hunger, timing and minimizing embarrassing moments – can turn an average college trip into one that’s a lot of fun and memorable for all the right reasons.

1. Bring Snacks! Sure, you thought once your kids were out of preschool you would no longer be packing snacks for car trips. Well, when you’re running late for the college tour, or are lost in a new city, or stuck in traffic, it’s great to be able to brighten the mood with a quick snack. Find a small cooler and pack a few items that will last if they end up in the car overnight—apples, nuts, pretzels and definitely a few water bottles.

2. Heading into a new city with unknown traffic patterns is probably not a good time to have you student driver practice driving.

3. Trust the admissions office directions over your GPS—you never know when there’s a Grand Prix in town that the admissions office will know to direct you around while your faithful GPS will blindly lead you directly into traffic.

4. Yet don’t always trust the admissions office on parking. Generally their parking lot is closest, but also priciest. Street parking can be an option, but see how long the meters last. Getting a ticket while college visiting is probably not going to improve the mood in the car.

5. Remember that 5 minutes early is on time. It takes time to get through all the stoplights, it takes time to park, it takes time to ask directions to the admissions office, it takes time to walk. Add in plenty of time and keep a book handy if you arrive early.

6. Note taking may seem a bit excessive, but after seeing even three schools, the trips and tips will start to blend. Keep a small notebook and pen visible just in case your student has the urge to reach for it during the info session.

7. While everyone suggests eating on campus and talking to students to get the vibe, sometimes it’s easier to eat on campus and eavesdrop on the nearby diners. Not only may your child find it less embarrassing, you also may hear more honest commentary.

8. Suggest that your student create a playlist in advance and then let him listen to it in lieu of bombarding him with “so what did you think of that school?”

9. Most importantly—plan time to do other things beyond visiting colleges—see how many ice cream stands you can discover and enjoy, go up the Washington Monument (well, once it’s repaired), find a corn maze to visit. Have fun!

And a couple of suggestions to pass on to your students:

• Ask your student tour guide where else he or she applied to college whether you’re still looking to expand your colleges under consideration or you simply need external validation of your choices.
• Even if the reason you went to visit Macalester was because you had never been to Minnesota, you don’t need to put that on your application.

Pirate Guidelines for Parents of Students Adrift Among College Applications

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As I stepped into the unknown (at least to me) territory of guiding a high school senior through the college application process, I felt like Elizabeth Turner as she boarded the Black Pearl—the college application process was more about guidelines than rules. I was fortunate enough to be offered two guidelines from people who had previously boarded the college convoy. I pass both along here to anyone else who faces, with perhaps some trepidation, the prospect of figuring out the college application process from a parent’s perspective.

First, as a parent, you can take on multiple roles in the college process. At one end of the spectrum a parent can sit back and let the student manage everything, which can be either completely freeing or entirely impossible. At the other end the mother so excessively edits her child’s essays that the essays beautifully reflect the views and perspective of a perimenopausal woman trying to recapture her youth. Ideally I hoped to find a role somewhere in the middle of this tightrope, or as it sometimes feels, a pirate's plank, presuming of course that I could keep my balance.

A good friend, who was a recent empty nester with 3 children successfully enrolled in college, suggested taking on the role of an administrator. As she described it, an administrator can type, mail applications, edit grammar, maintain critical calendar reminders, even chauffeur to college visits. An administrator does not write essays, suggest topics, select colleges, compare prospective college experiences or write questions for school visits. And as my friend clearly stated, an administrator has pre-determined work hours. Work hours may be negotiated, but generally should be set in advance, so if the student would like to have an essay reviewed, said essay would need to be completed before 11pm on the date the application is due. As with any good administrator/employer relationship, the job requirements should be negotiated in advance. Only time and my children will tell whether I am successful in meeting my targeted goals.

The second piece of advice came from a college admissions officer trying to win over the students in attendance. He suggested that college discussions between parents and students be limited to 5 to 7 pm on Sunday. During that time parents could ask any questions on their minds and offer their well-intended advice on the college application process. The remainder of the week, the college application process would be off limits for family conversations.

As with the first suggestion, only time and my children will tell how well I adhere to this rule. Yes, like the Pirates’ Code these are more guidelines than actual rules. Welcome aboard the College Convoy, Miss Turner.

College Tours: The Less Serious Side

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College tours are a rite of passage for juniors and seniors in high school and their families as post high school plans are contemplated. While some look forward to these visits, others may be a bit more wary, or like me, teary that 17 years could have passed so quickly. If you’re headed to campus visits this spring and summer, here are a few hints to keep in mind.

1. If it’s a chilly day, follow the Hawaiian tour guide—she is certain to go inside each building on the tour rather than stand outside in the cold.
2. Visitor parking lots are for those without parking karma and a pocket full of quarters. On street parking near city campuses is often closer, easier to find and less expensive than the so-called visitor lots as long as you feed the meter between the information session and your tour.
3. Before being impressed that your child sat right up front in the information session, ask if she remembered her glasses.
4. The school web site, however poorly organized has the college facts—but apparently not all parents are internet savy and will often ask questions like, "how many students go to school here?" Teen eye rolls are appropriate in these situations.
5. Every tour guide is asked, “Why did you choose this college?”
6. If the only two colleges your tour guide applied to were the University of Michigan and Wesleyan, you may realize that your child isn’t the only one who isn’t focusing on a college type.
7. Don’t worry, not everyone steps onto a campus and “just knows” that it is the right or wrong college.
8. Try not to laugh out loud or nudge your child when the tour guide explains that the circulating library isn’t so named because it revolves.
9. Violating all of the campus superstitions—stepping on the plaque in the middle of the quad, walking through the wrought iron gates—is unlikely to amuse your child.
10. As fun as campus tours are, make time for some non-college related fun while traveling with your son or daughter—the days go by too quickly!

Share your college visiting suggestion, faux pas or incident... comment below.

Nights 6 and 7—a Few Passes

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My blogging for the past two menorah lighting nights mimics our ability to intentionally make occasions to offer kindnesses to others. As we went around the circle both nights, my husband and I each had a few passes. Seven kindnesses isn’t all that many. Yet I am finding it hard to keep kindnesses top of mind so that I see the opportunities to help someone out. I tell myself now that I will work harder on this the 8th and final day to be aware of sharing kindness with those around me. We’ll see if I am able to recount my kindnesses I shared today when we light the candles tonight.

The Fourth Night: Making the World a Little Bit Brighter

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The fourth day I heard, “I didn’t give any kindnesses beyond what I would do anyhow.” “I was at home all day—I didn’t have a chance to share any kindnesses.”

Clearly it was time to revisit the intent of sharing kindnesses given and kindnesses received. I didn’t intend that we would change the world, complete heroic tasks each day or oblige others to be forever indebted. I simply wanted us to be aware of what brings light into our lives and how we reflect that light. I would be delighted if most of our kindnesses shared were true gifts of kindness that we would have given had it been Hanukkah or the middle of July. I liked that with eight days we could create a habit of thankfulness and giving where one may not have existed or reinforce an awareness of the kindnesses in our lives.

Once we all were re-focused on the intent, we were much more comfortable sharing the more commonplace of kindnesses— my daughter helping me clean up, my husband baking a cake for our children, no one complaining when our afternoon plans changed at the last minute. Every day won’t bring a kindness that would turn a friend’s life around, but hopefully each day would make the world a little bit brighter even after the candle had gone out.

The Third Night: It's the Thought that Counts

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The excuses started with the morning alarm clock.

“I just want to remind you that I work at home on Fridays, so I won’t have many interactions for sharing something nice,” my husband announced as he stepped out of bed.

“You’ll see your family, “I responded, “we count too".

As it turned out, I was the one who ended up grasping for moments of kindness given. I had plenty of kindnesses received, rushing home late from work, getting a friendly smile and a helpful suggestion from a shop owner, being able to call my husband at the last minute to pick up my daughter, a truck driver letting me cut across to make my exit. But I apparently was in a receiving mode, not a giving mode as I grasped for 3, just 3, kindnesses given— how hard could this be? I looked for drivers who weren’t getting a break in traffic to pull out, shoppers who needed a door opened, I even stopped to pick up fresh scones for my family - all sold out by late in the day!

On that last try, my daughter told me, "It's the thought that counts mom, so that counts as a kindness."

When we stood around the menorah and listened to each others' kindnesses, again seeing the glimpses of gloves shared on a cold day, or thoughtful encouragement to a classmate, I realized we all have moments or days of receiving and moments of giving. It’s not that one is harder to see or acknowledge than the other, at least for me. It is that life is bumpy. Often there are caring words I can share, or a hand I can offer, but sometimes I am the thankful recipient of an extra smile or a driver’s courtesy or a daughter’s hug. The kindnesses of others keep my glass full.

Kindnesses Shared and Received

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We love our ceramic menorah that we unwrap each December and fill with colorful candles each evening during Hanukkah. As the Shamash candle is lit, we begin singing the blessing in our own multi-tuned rendition. My husband wasn’t schooled in religious tunes, or if he was didn’t retain them. And my religious tunes are limited to Herald Angels and Little Towns. Consequently, our prayer sounds much like a smaller rendition of Hogwarts school song.

Each of the 8 nights we add an additional candle, sing our prayer and enjoy the menorah for a moment or through dinner or while homework is being done. We love to watch the candle lights flickering and speculate where all that wax ends up. But we rarely focus long on the Maccabees or the blessings we remember in our own lives.

This year I thought we could think about what brings light into our lives and how we reflect that light. Each day of Hanukkah, we will each be observant for kindnesses we share and kindnesses we receive. Then when we light the candles we will each share a kindness from that day for each candle lit—one kindness each on the first night, two the second night and so forth. I imagine that this will be fairly straightforward on day one. However, I presume that by day 4 or 5 we will have to work to not just remember what we have done that day (for some of us a harder task these days than for others), but we will need actively be observant for moments when we can offer a kindness— from a word, to a hand, to a hug. I am sure it will take concentration to look for opportunities. Perhaps we will hold open a door or let the shopper with just one item to purchase step in line in front of us, or even refrain from a disparaging remark that was clamoring to be spoken. Eight is such a good number for creating a habit of being observant to where we can give a kindness and be mindful of saying thank you when we receive a kindness.

Stay tuned and I’ll let you know how well this works or doesn’t. Let me know what traditions you enjoy in December to show thanks for what you have received or be cognizant of what you share.

whispers of slavery

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"And behind the house is the kitchen and 'slave' quarters," our guide told us, whispering the word 'slave' as if its mere utterance might offend, or worse, in some way impugn the good name of the white descendants of Charleston slave-owners. When I further questioned about the slave quarters and numbers living at the Edmondston-Alston House, it was as if the very white (from the roots of her hair to her pale legs peeking out from below her skirt) docent hadn't heard me.

Then when I asked how a merchant in the 1800s could have 6 children and not even one married, I was met with a cool stare that seemed to say, "we don't talk about that dear," as her lips intoned, "no, none were married. Now notice how the interior shutters could cover the windows to keep out the sunlight."

Her reticence to utter the word slave, let alone discuss the horrendous history of slavery in Charleston stood in sharp contrast to our carriage tour guide, Matt. Matt spoke factually and at length about Charleston's influence on slavery in the United States as one of the first major slave trading ports. He told us how the rich rice merchants made a fortune selling rice to England, then returned to South Carolina via Africa where they loaded their ships with Africans to sell as slaves upon returning to Charleston harbor. He pointed out the barbed ironwork adorning several fences surrounding the majestic entryways to antebellum mansions. Matt claimed that the barbs were there for protection in case of a slave uprising and informed us that the ratio of blacks to whites in Charleston was 2:1 preceding the Civil War. The rice plantation owners, with townhouses in Charleston, lived in constant fear of a slave revolt.

Which historical perspective did each tour guide believe to be an accurate history lesson? Did our historical home tour guide really believe that slavery was an inconsequential element of the town home owned by Charles Alston? It surprises me that nearly 150 years following the Civil War, docents in the south could still have difficulty discussing slavery. For my historical edification, I am thankful that at least some, and possibly most, tour guides are able to honestly present the facts of slavery without resorting to a whisper.

-free zone

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My life has become a series of –free zones. My driver’s seat is a cell-free zone. The dinner table is a telephone-free zone (cell or land). I attempt to keep a computer-free zone in my family room and kitchen immediately after school to ensure I can focus on my children as they return home. Each of these zones is intended to reduce my multi-tasking.

I recently read, not to my surprise, that multi-tasking is an oxymoron. We cannot focus on two disparate tasks simultaneously. A condition that is abundantly clear as I attempt to write amid the chatter in the orthopedists’ waiting room. There’s the toddler dancing around the mom and continually chattering until the mom says, “behave or I’ll call daddy and then you’ll be in trouble.” (I didn’t think parent’s used this threat anymore). Then a quiet pause for 30 seconds or so followed by, “okay, call daddy.” Several other people waiting chuckle along with me. See, even in writing I have been completely unfocused by trying to blog while listening to idle chatter.

Sure, there are plenty of –free zone established for the comfort and safety of the public—smoke-free zones, cell phone-free zones, even backpack-free zones to improve security or minimize shoplifting. But my –free zones are more personal—an attempt to reduce the clutter in my mind and allow me to live in the present. Just this morning I found myself creating a daily to do list while I was in the shower, then I paused and thought to myself, the shower should be a list-free zone. Perhaps I have created a whole new compulsion— -free zones. Maybe I’ll create a –free zone-free zone…