Dave Barry Visits Colleges With His Son
Most college
visits include an orientation session, wherein you sit in a lecture room and a
college official tells you impressive statistics about the college, including,
almost always, how small the classes are. Class smallness is considered the
ultimate measure of how good a college is. Harvard, for example, has zero
students per class. The professors just sit alone in their classrooms, filing
their nails.
I noticed,
in these orientation sessions, that many of the kids seem semi-bored, whereas
the parents not only take notes, but also ask most of the questions, sometimes
indicating that they've mapped out their children's entire academic careers all
the way through death. There will be some girl who looks like she's 11 years
old, and her dad will raise his hand and say: ""If my daughter
declares a quadruple major in Biology, Chemistry, Physics and Large Scary
Equations, and she graduates with honors and then earns doctorates in Medicine,
Engineering, Law, Architecture, Dentistry and Taxidermy, and then she qualifies
for a Merwanger Fellowship for Interminable Postdoctoral Studies, does the
Nobel organization pay her expenses to Sweden to pick up her prize?""
I was
intimidated by these parents. I have frankly not given that much thought to my
son's academic goals. I assumed he was going to college for the same reason I
did, which is that at some point they stop letting you go to high school. I
tried to think of questions to ask the college officials, but the only one I could
think of was: ""How come these lecture-hall desks are never designed
for us left-handed people?"" Although I didn't ask this, because it's
probably considered insensitive on college campuses to say
""left-handed people."" You probably have to say something
like ""persons of handedness.""
After the
orientation session, you go on a campus tour conducted by a student who is
required to tell you the name of every single building on the campus, no matter
how many there are (""Over there is the Gwendolyn A. Heckenswacker
Institute for the Study of Certain Asian Mollusks, which we call 'The Heck.'
And over there is the Myron and Gladys B. Prunepocket Center for Musty Old
Books That Nobody Ever Looks At. And right next to that is The Building Right
Next to the Myron and Gladys ..."").
After the
tour, the kids have interviews with college officials. My son revealed little
about what goes on in these interviews. My theory is that the officials close
the door and say: ""Relax. You'll spend the majority of college attending
parties, playing hacky sack and watching 'Friends.' The tour is purely for the
parents. The guides make up the building names as they go along.""
One of the
colleges my son visited was my alma mater, Haverford College (proud motto:
""Among The First In The Nation To Drop Football""). I was
a little nervous about going back; I expected that, at any moment, the dean
would tap me on the shoulder and say: ""Mr. Barry, we need to talk to
you about your share of the Class of 1969's bill for the cost of scraping an
estimated 23,000 butter pats off the dining-hall ceiling.""
Fortunately,
this did not happen. Our student guide gave an excellent tour, although he
failed to point out some of the more historic sites at Haverford, including:
* The
building where, in 1967, the rock band ""The Federal Duck""
made the historic discovery that if it was going to play ""Purple
Haze"" correctly, it needed WAY bigger amplifiers;
* The
dormitory room where my roommate Bob Stern and I accumulated what historians
believe was the world's largest man-made pile of unlaundered briefs. Those are my most vivid memories.
(If you enjoyed this excerpt, look for Dave Barry's books in your local bookstore.)