Archive for the ‘Schooling’ Category

Scent of a college

Thursday, March 21st, 2013

Applicants to Agnes Scott, a small women’s college, will get more than a form letter congratulating them on their admission. Every student accepted into next fall’s freshman class also will get a booklet treated with a scented varnish, touting encouraging them to accept the offer. The college’s vice president for enrollment hopes the unusual pitch will help wavering students say yes to Agnes Scott: “It’s hard to convince women to come to an all-women’s college, so we have to stand apart,” Lauren E. Martin said. “We hope these tokens communicate some of the experiences you’re going to get here.”

And what exactly does Agnes Scott smell like? Like pine and grass — but not like magnolia, despite the presence of many trees on the campus. Apparently, magnolia smells like someone’s great-aunt.

While I am particularly sensitive to smell, the idea that college choice would be swayed by a scratch-n-sniff viewbook strikes me as a bit preposterous. Like, “I’ll choose College X over College Y because I respond well to the vanilla notes and whiff of fresh air?” If odour was a factor, NYU and Columbia would go begging for students! A college looking to improve acceptances might consider throwing in a big fat scholarship check instead.

Real World: Mumbai

Thursday, September 27th, 2012

Having met both American co-eds and Indian parents, this release, which came across my desk today, seems like the worst idea ever.

Generation Xtremely Old

Monday, August 20th, 2012

Perhaps not technically:

“The fact that we feel old is not the responsibility of the Class of 2014.”

Or the Class of 2016. But we’ve got to have someone to blame.

Are you smarter than a kindergartener?

Tuesday, August 7th, 2012

Am I smarter than a 5-year-old? Apparently, not:

Solving a Rubik’s Cube isn’t hard. It’s not impressive that a 5-year-old would be smart enough to solve a Rubik’s Cube. It’s impressive that he would have the patience.

So, apparently, I am dumber and have less patience than a kindergartener. Also, less spatial-relations ability.

Roomies

Monday, August 6th, 2012

If this isn’t an argument for living with your college roommate well into your thirties, I don’t know what is: “The vagaries of sexual attraction don’t disrupt your security and stability.” Unless, of course, your college roommate is a slob or, in my case, hung inspirational Hallmark posters on the wall and went to bed at 7:30 p.m.

I don’t mean to sound a gender-aggrieved note, but I do have to wonder if the “gosh, aren’t they rule-breakers” tone would have been sounded if the article was not about four almost-40 heterosexual men living together and pursuing their creative passions and instead focused on roomies Carrie, Miranda, Samantha, and Charlotte. (Also, am I the only one amused that the story shared a jump with a column on yuppie parents’ intra-school district hook-ups?)

The problem with wunderkinder

Wednesday, May 30th, 2012

The Post had a story the other day about a six-year-old who is competing in the National Spelling Bee. (Which, don’t even get me started. It was the bane of my existence every spring as a Washington bureau reporter to get pulled off the Hill to spend two days in a hotel ballroom on dork duty.) As you might imagine, first grade is a little young for the bee, but, as you also might imagine, little Lori Anne Madison is not ordinary kid:

Consider Lori Anne’s favorite word — the German sprachgefühl. The Merriam-Webster’s online dictionary defines it as “an intuitive sense of what is linguistically appropriate.” Lori Anne has another definition.

“It means love of language,” she explained. “By the way, which I have.”

The article notes that Lori Anne is being homeschooled because she was “bored” when she briefly attended a local private school. I don’t have any children, so I don’t presume to give parenting advice. But I was a child who was often bored in school. And because I could read and write and do math and, yes, spell, when my classmates were learning how, my teachers’ solution was to send me to the library for hours each day, to read books under the vaguely watchful eye of moonfaced (really!) Mr. Mooney. As a result, I was very well-read, but I had few non-adult friends.

I guess I’d just say, Madison Parents, give some thought not just to your daughter’s spelling ability but also to her sociability.

Mind(set) blowing

Friday, September 2nd, 2011

I know this will make me sound very old — and also like a dork — but: Today’s college freshmen are so young that Ferris Bueller and Sloane Peterson could be their parents?!

Not that they’d get the reference….

Tricks for textbooks

Monday, August 1st, 2011

According to the Huffington Post, an increasing number of co-eds are turning tricks to pay the tuition bills.

The website has an exposé of what it calls sugar daddy-sugar baby relationships, in which sexual favours are traded for money to help pay for tuition and fees. The men like to see themselves as humanitarians, while the women rationalise that trading on their youthful looks is okay if it gets them through college. The article makes it out to be some new phenomenon, but sadly, I’m old enough to recall earlier iterations of this story, tales of women stripping or hooking (no, I’m not necessarily equating the two) their way through college. Hell, I even wrote one. The only thing new about this connection between higher education and the world’s oldest profession, I’d say, is the fact that speciality Internet sites have replaced the street-corner pimp.

I know I’m supposed to muster up some feminist indignation over this exploitation, but while I think that there are better ways to pay for your textbooks, the simple fact is that 18-year-olds are adults. If there’s any outrage I can find, it’s over the fact that these supposedly educated women — NYU, UCLA, and Harvard all rank in the top 10 universities attended by so-called sugar babies on one site — seem to know very little higher-education financing and the assistance available to them. Rather than turning to Sugar Daddy, they might try hitting up Uncle Sam.

Don’t go back to Rockville

Thursday, March 24th, 2011

They say you can never go home again. But if you can’t go back to mother, can you return to alma mater?

I’m not so sure. I’m back at my college today, for the first time in…ever. And while I know early spring is not an especially lovely time in New England, with trees stripped bare and a dust of road salt coating every surface, I’ve got to say that the place seems diminished somehow. The town is more down-at-its-heels than I recall; the campus seems smaller, worn. Is it that I’ve changed, or has it?

I look to catch glimpses of my former self in the faces of the passing students. I don’t spot myself — I never wore sweatpants, for one, unless I was heading to the pool — but if I did, what would I tell her? About disappointments and heartbreaks, that she’ll need to be braver and stronger than she knows, even though she thinks she knows brave and strong? That things won’t work out the way she wants or expects, that the things she knows she can believe in turn out to be the most ephemeral of all?

But on the plus side, there’ll be better weather, a better wardrobe, and boys….

Frat-house eats

Thursday, March 10th, 2011

The year that I went away to school, my college, in a cost-saving measure, decided to do away with the practice of serving every meal family-style, on linen tableclothes and with candlelight. Yes, I am serious, and it angered the traditionalists so. Dining services also decided that the Polish grandmas who made up the bulk of our kitchen staff ought to start making newfangled dishes that would appeal to a younger generation, like hummus and curry. Bad idea. Many a nights my friends and I consumed salad sandwiches — limp salad fixings on buttered toast — for dinner.

So, you can imagine my foodie envy when I read that fraternities now have chefs. No offense, but I think ossu buco is probably wasted on the fine gentlemen of Phi Gamma Delta.