A Student's Rush to Christmas

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: Some of you may recall I teach a class at my local community college. I enjoy it tremendously, except for… grading. However, final grades are due tonight by 10pm, so I’ll be grinding away to get through twenty-some final papers by then.

Unlike when I was in school myself, I won’t be powering through with Coca-Cola and a family sized bag of M&Ms, but I suspect a lot of students will be using whatever the modern equivalents are. I had a Zoom meeting with one student who had some questions, and the poor guy looked exhausted. Meanwhile, over in The Hague, Virginia’s communications to me have narrowed down to invitations to edit this or that paper in Google Docs. The miracles of modern technology!

This all makes me think of what this point in December felt like for so many years when I was in college, grad school and law school. The period between Thanksgiving wasn’t full of holiday spirit and preparations, but by frantically trying to catch up with missing assignments, begging professors for an extension, and all-nighters spent producing papers (that always turned out surprisingly good, somehow. This may be the origin of my writing-procrastination habit.)

The occasional glimpses of the season came from twinkle lights hanging around dorm windows and the Christmas music on blast at the pub when we went out drinking. No, the urgency of getting the last papers done didn’t preclude drinking.

It was a hard, exhausting grind, but the reward was the giddiness and relief of successfully wrapping up the term, knowing you had the whole winter break off to sleep late, eat your mom’s home cooking, and hang out with friends. I don’t know if anything else in life has matched the feeling of taking the bus back home, seeing the lights and decorations on the way, knowing my dad would be there at the station to meet me when I pulled in.

How about you, Reds? What do you remember about this time of year in your student days?

 

 

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: What a fun question! I remember from high school that all we cared about was vacation, and that our homework and attention fell to absolute zero.  And our teachers knew it. So then this happened. My junior year, in mid-December, our Honors English class teacher Miss Godfrey assigned us to write a paper on Martin Chuzzlewit and hand it in BEFORE vacation.

 

Are you kidding me? It was about 800 pages!

 

But they didn't call us honors English for nothing. We divided up the book and each read a different part of it, and then got together and put our parts together and discussed it, and then wrote our papers based on the part we had read.

 

 I remember mine was on the scary nurse Sairey Gamp. 

 

I think the entire class clandestinely participated in this–what we thought was such a clever scheme to avoid reading the whole thing, but what, as it turned out, made us all focus on this book  more carefully and deeply than we ever would have if we weren’t being so “clever.”

 

Thank you, Miss Godfrey. You were the clever one. What a gift!

 

JENN McKINLAY: My memories are very similar to yours, Julia, but I had a liter of Coke, a pack of smokes, and a bag of Doritos. Wrote some of my best papers at two in the morning after a night of pub singing with the college boyfriend’s rugby team. Once finals were cleared, my roomies and I then hit the Chapel Square Mall in New Haven to do our down and dirty student budget shopping before we booked it home for the holidays. My memories are more twinkle lights on the city green, the warmth of the stores hitting you in the face when you entered, and then the excited drive home to see the fam, eat home cooking, and catch up to the high school buds also returning home for the holidays. In Arizona, it’s more end of the semester pool parties and barbecues. Weird.

HALLIE EPHRON: What I remember most is that for the first time in my academic life, my college classes assigned more reading than it seemed humanly possible to read, never mind to properly absorb in the time given. And giving up. I’d have asked CHAT GPT for a summary if it had been invented yet {and crossed my fingers hoping the summary was accurate).

 

 

This was complicated by the fact that my occasional trips to the library to “study” were forays to “run into” Jerry who studied in Columbia’s physics library, a spot I’d never even have known existed if it hadn’t been for him. If he was there, and he often was, we played footsie much more than studied.

RHYS BOWEN: At college I seem to remember that we had exams in January which meant studying hung over our heads for the Christmas vacation. Also I worked for the post office during Christmas break. I was a mail person with a huge mail sack slung across me, walking up and down freezing wet streets with the wind howling (at least that is how I remember it). And halfway through the route a mail truck would meet me and exchange my almost empty sack for a full one. It was heavy and tiring work but it did give me some Christmas spending money in case I wanted to pop over to Germany to see my boyfriend… which I did.

My school memory is of our lovely Christmas concert which the elite choir started by processing through the open cloisters wearing robes, carrying candles and singing Benjamin Britten’s Ceremony of Candles. I got chills entering that completely dark auditorium , the lights coming on as we sang Wolkum Yole. We also had a Christmas party for each grade. 

LUCY BURDETTE: I do remember looking forward to reconnecting with high school pals–in bars in our hometown when we were old enough. It was a funny time, because Christmas was beautiful and well-celebrated at home in New Jersey, but then I’d be chomping at the bit to get back to school and away from family! I think I remember the break after Christmas as waaaaayyyy too long.

DEBORAH CROMBIE: I feel very boring here in comparison. I lived at home my first couple of years of college, and after that when I was in my garage apartment, I was only an hour’s drive from home. It was always lovely though, to walk into the old house, and to get my mom to do my laundry, as at college that meant going to a laundromat. 

 

JULIA: How about you, dear readers? What are your memories of racing to get papers and projects done before the Christmas break? 

...And Gladly Teach

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: Here in New England, students went back to school for the first time this past Thursday or Friday. (I continue to maintain starting the year at the very end of August, near Labor Day, is the True and Right way to do it, but I acknowledge this is a the minority view in the US.) 

Colleges and Universities are back in the swing; I taught my first class of the semester on Wednesday.  This is my second September without one of my kids in school (Youngest graduated in May, '22) and it still feels weird to be off the great solstice of the parental year after a quarter century. Of course, Youngest is now talking about grad school, so...

 Kindergarten through MBAs and Medical degrees, one constant figure is the teacher. I've had many in my life. My mother got a masters in education and supported her children for several years as a single mom after her divorce. Many of you know my late husband was a special ed teacher. But I want to call out some of my own teachers who helped shape who I am today.

 

Suzanne Ovitt: my first teacher after I arrived back in the US after almost four years living abroad. My parents were divorcing, I was off a military base for the first time in my life, and I was a wreck. Her gentle, supportive, caring presence got me restarted in my new life.

 

Al Marshall: I can't recall if Mr. Marshall taught me English in 6th, 7th or 8th grade. I do recall his enthusiasm for my writing. He took a poem of mine and tacked it up in the teachers' lounge with a note: Don't tell me kids in our school aren't creative. (I know this because my mom was a long term sub there.) He was the first teacher to lay the foundation for my belief I could be a writer.

 

Miss Sutton: I never knew my senior English teacher's first name - our small group of very bright smart-alecks called her Sutton Hoo.  She was actually an adjunct of Syracuse University; we were getting college credit for her class and boy did she make us work for it. Each Monday we were assigned a current affairs topic. On Friday, we had to turn in a well-reasoned Baconian essay on it - five paragraphs, each with five sentences, the whole structured around topic, three arguments in order of strength, and conclusion. Typos, poor grammar and spelling errors were unacceptable. Miss Sutton prepared me for law school eight years before I thought about going.  

Robert Ryan and John "Jack" Pavia: Professors Ryan and Pavia weren't just amazing teachers of history at Ithaca College, they also opened their hearts and homes to students. Prof. Ryan had regular dinners for the history majors, where he would produce gourmet meals that left his small kitchen looking like a food bomb had exploded. Prof. Pavia took us sailing on Lake Cayuga, and along with a great deal of information about Japanese history and literature, he imparted a piece of wisdom I have always remembered: A boat should be big enough for a cooler full of drinks."

I had started with the goal of a BFA in acting, but when I realized I was loving my history classes SO much more than those in voice and movement, I changed majors. 

 

Finally,  not my own teacher, but my kids': Nancy Ouellette. Mrs. Ouellette had all three of my children in her second grade class at St. Patrick's School and lived to tell the tale. She was a funny, compassionate teacher who handled loose teeth with aplomb (so many loose teeth!) and had a creative curriculum that blended science, mathematics and writing together in a way that kept her students engaged and interested in learning. She was Maine's Catholic School Teacher of the Year in '17, and rightly so. Mrs. Ouellette, I hope you're enjoyed a well-earned retirement.

 

How about you, dear readers? Who were the teachers who left their mark on your lives?

Roommates plus Red Hot Deals for the week!

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: After an exciting summer of work, travel and surgery, Youngest is back at the University of Maine, in a new dorm and with a new roommate. Her freshman roommate was wonderful, but decided to live off-campus this year, so another of Youngest's friends stepped into the breach. Coincidentally, the Smithie acquired a new roommate recently as well. She and The Very Tall Boyfriend share a three bedroom apartment, and having someone in the third room helps keep the costs low. They've also been fortunate in their apartment mates; the previous one was a wonderful young medical professional who left because her work required her to be closer to the hospital. 

The Smithie, however, hasn't always had good roommate luck. Her assigned freshman roomie had apparently developed some, shall we say, strange schedules at the boarding school that preceded college for her. She would start working around midnight, studying and writing with desk lamp and computer lighting up the room. That would have been bad enough, but she would actually print out papers at 3am - on the machine situated between their twin beds. Unsurprisingly, she'd also sleep most of the afternoon, leaving the Smithie to tiptoe in and out of her room, afraid to turn on the lights or open the curtains (because SHE had been brought up to consider other people's feelings. Can you tell I'm still ticked off at the roommate?)

Eventually, the RA and then the house committee were called in, and after the first semester, the Smithie got her own room, from a junior who had gone abroad. She was so put off by the experience, she didn't share her space with another person until the Very Tall Boyfriend came around. 

I've never had that bad of a roommate, thank heavens. I've had a few whose names and faces I can't recall, I married one :-) , one is still my very best friend, and I had several that were perfectly nice and unexceptional. As a young working woman in DC, I had one memorable housemate, a brilliant, funny, generous Georgetown Law student who had been raised (I'm swear this is true; not exaggerating here) by freethinkers from New York who thought teaching their daughter any form of manners, personal hygiene, and environmental cleanliness was oppressing her and promoting the bourgeois values of the capitalist class. (I should mention these good socialists owned the same sort of upper West Side apartment you see on Mrs. Maisel, and could afford to pay their kids way through college and law school.)This wasn't a huge problem for her housemates - she would clean up after herself in the kitchen, and we all had our own bedrooms and baths, but the chickens came home to roost when she started getting job interviews with white-shoe law firms (she was an excellent student!) For those of you who aren't familiar with the process, interviews with prestigious law forms involve the prospective associate being taken out to lunch at a good restaurant, usually by several partners and possibly a senior associate or two. My poor roomie didn't know how to use a napkin, she had no concept of which utensil to use when, and she ate with her mouth open. With her mouth open and the FOOD WOULD FALL OUT ONTO HER CLOTHING. And she wouldn't wash her clothing for a very long time. One of the other girls and I put her through Miss Manners Boot Camp.  We drilled her on silverware, napkins, sitting, chewing, excusing herself, etc., etc. We made her pretend we were partners at the firm and had her eat soup in front of us while also conversing (that was a challenge.) Alas, I left to marry Ross before I found out if she got a plum position. She was a lovely person, even if she didn't brush her hair or apply deodorant, and I wish her well.

How about you, Reds? Who were your memorable roommates?


HALLIE EPHRON: My first college roommate was a disaster. We got off on the wrong foot when I arrived after her, and her mother was arranging her underwear in the bureau and I thought *she* was the roommate. We were... incompatible. And ended up asking for separate rooms, but weren't deemed dysfunctional enough for it to be granted. Food did not fall out of her clothing...LOL. But she was just a very dour person.


JENN McKINLAY: I never had a terrible roommate, but I have to admit I have pretty low standards. Given that I'm the girl who lived out of her laundry basket for four years, because putting clothes in drawers just seemed so futile, I have no room to judge. My first roommate was a cheerleader, very nice girl, but she was looking for her Mrs. degree, so we had nothing in common and separated after our first semester. After that, I roomed with friends and then boyfriends so I was always pretty happy. Of course, it could be that I was the bad roommate, as in more of a partier than a studier, and lived life like every day was an open house, bringing home every stray student I came across and offering up our couch as a crash pad. Sorry, roomies!

JULIA: Jenn, my freshman roommate (who is still my BFF) and I would pile our dirty clothes in front of the almost-floor-length sliding windows and let the winds howl through our room. After that treatment, any garments without noticeable stains or smells were deemed "clean" and went back in the drawers. So I can't think you living out of a laundry basket was too bad!

DEBORAH CROMBIE: I never had a terrible roomie, thank goodness. In fact, except for a brief stint in boarding school (before I was expelled!) I only had one roommate, the first semester I went away to college. Our room was a terribly awkward pie-shaped space in the university's round dorm. What were they thinking??? But she was nice and I don't remember any problems. Not that I was there much, I was too busy partying and skipping classes. You can guess that adventure didn't end well. After that, for me it was living at home and community college, then commuting to my eventual alma mater for a year. My last two years I lived alone in a little garage apartment off campus, studied all the time, and absolutely loved it.  The solitary-writer gene was already in full force!

RHYS BOWEN: My college roommate and I are still good friends and meet every couple of years in England. I was always the social one, bringing in groups of friends for coffee and she was ultra shy. She led a quiet and lonely life until about five years ago when she announced she was moving in with the man she had always loved who was now leaving his wife for her. And she appeared at dinner in a slinky red dress! Talk about a surprise! After college I share a flat with three friends--still my closest friends today. A wonderful experience. The only bad roommates were when I was in Australia and dating John. These girls would help themselves to my food in the refrigerator and go through my things. I think this spurred me into rapid marriage!  
 




LUCY BURDETTE: I attended Princeton, the third year they accepted women-- so it was actually a hard experience. The school still had a lot of old-fashioned customs (like importing girls for parties from all-girl schools) and they had not a clue about how to help kids from very different backgrounds adjust. Given that, I was lucky in my roomie draw. We were both pre-med (she went on to a very distinguished career in medicine) and a little lost. Though she was tall and blonde and a boy magnet. And I was...not. Sometimes I would get her cast-offs from dates that didn't click. It was good to have such a close friend when feeling like a stranger in a strange land.


HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: My first roomie was a perfect match for me--on paper. She was from a loving midwest family, and was an English major. However . She did not like music. At all. I was on a big Judy Collins/Leonard Cohen kick (and spent one entire week in tribute living on tea and oranges),  and she was not impressed. She went to sleep at about 9pm and I--didn't. I stayed up late, and cut out black light stars to glue onto our ceiling. I could feel the resentment and judgment growing.  But the big rift came when we were in the same English class, and had to do a "compare and contrast" (remember?) paper on  The Faerie Queen and CS Lewis's Out of the Silent Planet.  After they were graded, the producer gave her a D and me an A. Which would have been contentious enough, but the professor also wrote on her paper--"you might want to check with your roommate on how to do this properly."  Well, that was the end of that. Bye bye roomie. (You can see how that episode was burned in my brain.)

For  the rest of college, I did all I could to have. single room.

JULIA: Well, we've learned two things today: the Reds were either very lucky with roommates in college and/or were party girls. (Come to Bouchercon in Dallas and you'll see if we're still party girls!) How about you, dear readers? What were your roommate experiences like - did you get the good, the bad, or the ugly?

Red Hot News on events and sales:

Julia: The second Clare Fergusson/Russ Van Alstyne mystery, A FOUNTAIN FILLED WITH BLOOD, is on sale all this month for $2.99:

Kindle      iBooks      Nook      Kobo

Prefer a trade paper copy? Enter the Goodreads Giveaway for one of 25 copies!

JENN: My publisher is having another Goodreads Giveaway, this time for The Christmas Keeper, coming Oct 2019! Enter here!

DEBS:  Here is a link to a two chapter excerpt from A BITTER FEAST, free!

GARDEN OF LAMENTIONS is on sale in all e-book formats--$1.99 until 9/16

And signed copies of A BITTER FEAST are available from Barnes and Noble and The Poisoned Pen, so pre-order now!

The Nutty (Happy, Nervous) Professor

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: Behold, I have done a new thing! Actually, it's something I've done before on and off, over the last fifteen years, but the form and setting are quite different. I'm teaching! I am an adjunct instructor at the Southern Maine Community College. Not in creative writing, as you might expect, but lecturing on Technical Communications, an interesting field of "soft skills" encompassing writing to audiences, running meetings, making oral presentations and creating documents and websites collaboratively.

"Julia," I hear you ask, "Haven't you been a full-time writer since 2001? What do you know about running meetings?"

Good question, astute reader. The answer is, I'm tapdancing as fast as I can to keep up. Now, a  lot of the ground covered by "Technical Communications" consists of plain common sense things most of us have learned by our fifties if we have any work or volunteer experience at all. For instance, I delivered an hour lecture last night on cultural variables to be aware of when dealing with people and businesses from different countries - something most of you would have been able to do if you'd A) been paying attention to the news over the years and B) seen the great Michael Keaton/Gedde Watanabe flick Gung Ho.

For the most technical subjects, I'm breaking a sweat reading ahead in the textbook and looking up articles online. I was expressing my worries to Jeff Cohen when we were setting up his blog visit yesterday. "I'm only one chapter ahead of my students!" I said. 

"Don't worry," he replied, from the vantage point of seventeen years teaching undergrads. "Your students are one chapter behind where you think they are."

My students are the other reason I'm able to carry this off. Southern Maine Community College is located in Maine's largest and most diverse metro region, the greater Portland area. Like a lot of community colleges, it has a large share of nontraditional students, older adults (older then the usual 18-22 year olds) who've been in the working world and are back in school to retool or add on to their occupations. I'm teaching two sections of technical communications, and in both classes I've got people who have been employed by (or are still at) large tech firms, high-end manufacturing companies, and regional corporations. 

They're adding their invaluable experience to our classroom discussions, and also helping to confirm to the rest of the students - largely engineering and comp sci majors - that squishy stuff like ethical standards, clear writing and generosity toward coworkers really, truly are important in the working world.

Having an actual job - as opposed to my work-from-home career - is good for me, I think. It's forcing me to be more organized and to stay focused. I'm juggling more than I've had to since I had  multiple kids in school, not to mention the novelty of actually having the meet *ahem* deadlines.

I got the job, more or less, when a friend who was retiring from the position asked me out to lunch last fall. "I want you to take over the class I teach," she told me over pizza and beer. "You need to do something to get out of the house now Youngest is away at university." She was right. I have the world's shortest work week - an hour Tuesday and Thursday afternoons and two hours Wednesday evening - but I genuinely enjoy being in the college environment. I like talking to my students. I've enjoyed meeting my department head and the faculty liaison, and I'm considering attending the monthly adjunct happy hour(!)

One of the most eye-opening aspects of all this has been how well I've taken the whole thing in stride. The last time I stepped back into the workforce after a long absence I was in my mid-thirties, looking for a job after being a stay-at-home mom for five years. I remember agonizing over how to apply, what to say, what to put in and leave out of my resume. I didn't think I had anything to offer the business or legal world. In the end, I joined a temp agency because they literally won't turn anyone down. It took a year of temping to build up my confidence to seriously approach law firms for a real, career-oriented position.

This time, I simply thought about what my friend said, agreed, and sent an email to the woman who ran the department. I pulled together a "resume" in less than an hour, and our face-to-face meeting was relaxed. I felt as if I was as much interviewing her about the position as she was interviewing me about my qualifications. What a difference two decades can make! I wouldn't mind being a redhead again, and I'd love to have my thirty-something knees back (oh, how I used to ski!) but I wouldn't give up the confidence I've earned since then for Jessica Chastian's hair and a pair of bionic joints.

How about you, dear readers? Have any of you jump-started your life with a new thing?

Is this a dorm room or a hotel suite?

INGRID THOFT

Have you seen that video that's gone viral?  The one that shows a tricked out dorm room at the University of Mississippi?  Or maybe you've seen the ads from Home Goods and Marshalls that show shopping sprees that transform average dorm rooms into spaces worthy of a magazine spread?

There's no comparison between the dorms of my day and newly built offerings, like the Hub at Tucson at the University of Arizona, Tucson, which features a roof-top pool, grilling gazebo, hammocks, en-suite baths, walk-in closets, and in-room laundry.  The desire for luxury seems to be extending to the decorating done by students themselves; fancy headboards, wall stencils, and drapes are just some of the additions that never occurred to me back in the day.

How about a rooftop pool to go with your room?

My first dorm room was a triple on the 12th floor of Rubin Hall at NYU.  The location was amazing:  the corner of Fifth Avenue and 10th Street.  The interior had less to recommend it, although the rooms did have en-suite baths because the building started its life as a hotel.  I remember distinctly the green and purple duvet cover that I had purchased from IKEA and a few matching toss pillows, which seemed quite "House and Garden" at the time.  There was no coordination between me and my roommates; the room looked like three separate people had moved in together. 

Personalized wall stencils are all the rage

My sophomore year room was at Wellesley in the eaves of a building overlooking a lake.  The view was nice, if we craned our necks, and my duvet cover came with me, as well as my poster of Michael Jordan featuring a William Blake quote:  "No bird soars too high, if he soars with his own wings."  Junior and senior years I had a single room and "decorated" them both with posters and personal items, but at the end of the day, those rooms looked like what they were:  dorm rooms temporarily occupied by a student.

How about a mood board for your room?

I have mixed feelings about the trend of transforming dorm rooms into luxury hotel suites.  Aside from the expense poured into these projects—which immediately broadcasts a student's financial standing—I worry that college students will have a rude awakening when they enter the real world and discover that replicating their college living quarters will be financially ruinous.  And wasn't it nice when the only difference between your room and your neighbor's was the choice of posters or duvet covers? 

My favorite college dorm story is that of my sister and her sophomore room at the University of Pennsylvania.  When she got her room lottery number at the end of freshman year, she studied the layouts of the various dorms and zeroed in on the room that she wanted.  She even visited the room once she'd claimed it, bringing her tape measure so she could figure out the best furniture arrangement.  Home for the summer, she fantasized about her roomy room and looked forward to returning to school.

The kind of room I remember!

When she threw open the dorm room door in September, she discovered that over the summer Penn had done renovations—and cut her dorm room in half.  She still could arrange her furniture as she liked, but only if the room were tipped on its side, since it did have quite a high ceiling!  The best laid plans, foiled by Campus Housing!

What do you think?  Should dorm rooms be luxurious?  Should kids deck out their rooms like the Ritz?

The Accepting Parent: the adventure of Accepted Students Day

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: Over the years, dear readers, it's been my pleasure to be your guide to all things collegiate, from taking tours to moving-in-day, from having your university student home for the holidays to having her home for good (or until she moves in with her boyfriend, which may FINALLY be happening next month. Don't get me started.)

I'm back with another adventure in the fields of academe: the Accepted Students Day. That's right, Youngest, who first made her appearance in this blog at the age of ten (she had just started reading the Harry Potter series) is headed off to college this fall. The lucky institution? The Honors College at the University of Maine, which offers a core civilization and classics curriculum, its own dorms and classroom spaces, and - this is the part I get a little dizzy over - enough in grants and scholarships that Youngest will be able to graduate debt free. I'll give those of you who are still paying off loans a chance to sit down and breath it through.

Before making that decision, though, she wanted to get an in-depth look, so off we went to Orono, Maine (an almost three hour trip, which reassured her I wouldn't be "too close" to, I don't know, pop over and tuck her in at night. My children have always deeply overestimated my interest in what might be going on in their dorm rooms.)

Accepted Students Day is to the campus tour as a full-blown wedding vendors fair is to skimming The Knot. Every kid there has gotten that lovely fat envelope, and every parent has seen the financial aid offer, and the university is there to seal the deal, with administrators, deans, professors and some VERY peppy students all showing up to tell you and your child in detail why this is the Best of all Possible Schools. Here are a few tips to make the most of your day:

1) Embrace the schmaltz. Every campus has a group called Key Club or Student Ambassadors or such, comprised of young people who will grow up to be Realtors and run car dealerships. They are super, super excited about Accepted Students Day. (I suspect surly, disgruntled university attendees are locked in their dorms until all the guests have left.)

 At UMaine, the incoming kids and their parents walked through a crowd of cheering, blue-clad youths and a giant inflatable bear's face to get into the Performance Center where everything kicked off. The bear mascot was there as well, giving high fives and punching it out...with parents, as the high-schoolers were to a man too cool/embarrassed/jaded to give it up for the Bear. We middle-aged folks were loving it, however, and why not? We're light years beyond cool, anyway. May as well cheer and applaud and ooh and aaah. The same thing happened when the program opened with a fabulous a capella group.

 "Oh, my God," Youngest said. "Can they get more cliched?" I, meanwhile, was butt-dancing in my seat.

2) Ease up on the cheerleading.  I really wanted Youngest to like UMaine. (In addition to debt free, my "parental expected contribution" was $200. Parents, I'll wait a moment while you fan yourselves.) So, I admit, I went a tad overboard. I got her a t-shirt. And sunglasses. I praised the theatre. I proclaimed the blueberry popovers the best ever (they were good.) I pointed out the architectural excellence of the buildings - yes, even the brutalist library. Why is it always the library? Finally, we were walking through a green area signed "Arboretum." "Gosh," I said, "Look at all the beautiful..." before I could say the word 'trees,' we had run out of them. It was a three-pine arboretum.

 "Mom," Youngest said. "You need to cool it." She was right.

3) Remember, you're not the prospective student. The university broke the kids into groups for sessions with the professor(s) heading up their departments of interest. Since Youngest is considering International Affairs, we hiked over to a conference space inside a cool museum of Native People's art and technology ("Mom! Stop looking! You're going to get lost!") to meet with their head. His presentation was so compelling, I  wanted to sign up. Afterwards, we stayed behind to speak one-on-one (Youngest was great about asking questions and zeroing in on her interests. At her age, my primary question was, "Where the boys at?") The professor had mentioned the intersection of climate change with national security, and I piped up about a program I had just heard on NPR. We discussed it for a minute, and he turned to Youngest. "You're interested in the international repercussions of climate change?"

"No," she said. "My mother is." Oops. 

As an aside, they should make a college for old people. It would be all about the academics, which we're finally mature enough to want to focus on, with a really good dining hall and ergonomically correct study carrels. Bedtime at 9:30, strictly enforced.

And in that vein: 4) The things that excite you and the things that excite your student will be different. What I swooned over: the classics curriculum, the museum, the language requirement and the squishy leather chairs in the Honors College reading room. What Youngest swooned over: cute boys, an in-depth conversation with a sorority girl, the study-abroad programs and the Adirondack chairs in the park outside the Honors College.

What we both liked: lunch, the century-old residence hall she hopes to live in, those blueberry popovers (really, they were bakery quality.) Is that enough to be going forward? Yes, yes it is. We sent in the deposit after we got home. Go Black Bears!

Will I See You at the Reunion?

INGRID THOFT

A few years ago, my best friend from college and I stood on the threshold of a dorm room at our alma mater.  We surveyed the scene, and she said what I was thinking:  “It’s smaller, right?  It wasn’t this small when we were here.”  It was, in fact, that small.  The good news was that the prison issue sheets were so rough they exfoliated our skin while we slept.  When we ventured into the common bathrooms, my friend pulled back the shower curtain on one of the stalls and exclaimed, “Oh. My. Word.!”  If you knew my friend, you would know this was the equivalent of blue streak from a sailor. 

Coarse sheets and grungy shower stalls aside, I’ve attended all of my college reunions, every five years.  My attendance is partly due to my mom who attended the same college and is a firm believer that reunions are must-attend events.  Our reunions aren’t wild parties by any stretch of the imagination, but they are an opportunity to revisit college traditions, reconnect with friends, and interact with women who are sharing comparable challenges and experiencing similar milestones.  Both my mom and I have found that the relationships we had while at school are just one piece of reunion:  It’s the opportunity for new relationships that is an unexpected delight.

I have to admit, I haven’t made an effort to attend any of my high school reunions, and I wonder if they would be as fulfilling as my college events.  I somehow doubt it, but maybe I’m really missing out. 

I never miss my annual family reunion, which happens every summer.  It’s just the immediate family, and as the grandkids get older, it has become more of a scheduling puzzle, but we try to do it just the same.  We squeeze a lot into a short span of time: a badminton tournament, a scavenger hunt, Uncle Doug’s steak tips on the grill, and a sleepover in Nana’s room.  And t-shirts!  We have a new t-shirt every year, which we wear around town during the scavenger hunt.  This prompts questions from strangers like, "Are you part of a sports team?"  No, but we're great at badminton! 

 

Your turn:  Are you a reunion-goer? Avoid them like the plague?  College, high school or family? 

Parental Trucking and Hauling, Inc., or, Moving Them Out of the Dorm

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: It's that time of year again, moms and dads of college-aged children. Stock up on gallons of milk and towels; the kids are coming home for the summer. As part of my occasional series on higher education in America today, I'm here to offer my wisdom to the rest of you tuition wage slaves proud parents. 

Ross is an educator.

At this point, I've moved the Smithie and the Boy into and out of dorms in  minivan, a station wagon and a four-door sedan. I've moved my offspring in and out alone, with the whole family, while Ross was undergoing chemo and in a record-breaking New England heat wave. For extra bonus points, Ross once moved a friend's daughter into her summer campus housing; a fourth floor room in  building with no elevator. This past Tuesday was a first even for us, though: because the Boy was bringing home a nineteen-foot long training scull (you heard that right, nineteen feet) Ross and I rented a UHaul for the trip. Since the Smithie will be leaving Northampton for good this Sunday, we decided to pack up her room on the same day. One day! Two colleges! Four hundred miles! Six hundred milligrams of acetaminophen! Here are a few dos and don'ts derived from my ninja-level expertise:

DON'T use the bathroom in the mens' dorm/floor. Just don't.

The PERSERVERANCE by wood pile and leaf bags headed for the compost.

DO have your children immediately after graduating yourself. That way, when you're hauling mini-fridges up and down stairs, at least you'll be doing it with forty-year-old knees. If, like Ross and I, you failed to have enough foresight to spawn early, DO pre-load with the pain reliever of your choice.

Speaking of that mini-fridge, DO remind your child to defrost and wipe it out before moving-out day. We forgot to do this, and arrived home with a mysterious puddle on the truck bed floor and several wet suitcases.

When you discover the second set of sheets you purchased last August, still in their original wrapping, DON'T ask your son how often he's changed/washed his bedding. The answer will only disappoint you.

DO bring extra garbage bags, tote bags and other easy-to-use containers to help with packing. We used ours up at Trinity College, leaving our Smithie to pack most of her small items in shopping bags she had saved over the course of the year. We looked like we were making off with an entire CVS store when we loaded her things in the truck.

This picture is a lie.

DON'T assume that beer-can pyramid, torn Tegan and Sarah poster or dust-rag t-shirt are junk. I mean, yes, they are junk, and several years from now when you try to give them to your kid to take to her first apartment, she'll look at you like you're crazy. But right now, they're precious mementos. Handle accordingly.

DON'T get too close to the dirty laundry. That's what the garbage bag is for.

If some strapping youths offer to help after seeing you struggle with boxes containing the fruits of four years as an English major, DO accept their assistance. DON'T listen to your kid, who's muttering, "I can get it." Is he going to pay your chiropractors bill? I thought not.

Not my kid's room. Not too dissimilar, though.

Speaking of book boxes, DO lift with your legs. Seriously. Why do men have a problem with this? Do they think we won't respect them if their butts are sticking out?

DO schedule time to eat. Knowing at the end of all the loading we could sit down at our favorite Greek restaurant in Northampton and stuff our faces was all that kept us, as a family, from killing each other.

DO a last-minute check. Library books returned? Key (if any) turned in? Any outstanding business it would be easier to conclude while on campus?

Our living room? Or an Amazon warehouse? You decide.

DON'T stress. Remind your kid campus safety isn't going to throw her out if she's still there after noon. Someone will be at the boat house/athletic center/music building to let him in to get his scull/weights/vibraphone. Everything will fit, and if it doesn't? There's a UPS store within a few miles of campus. (Unless you're at Colgate. There is nothing near Hamilton, NY. Sorry.) 

Good luck, parents! Remember, you have all summer to enjoy your students' company at home - which is why despite the strain and pain, you'll be happy to be doing at all over again at moving-in day in August.