Before You Scream At Your College Counselor

I try not to write too much about college here—if you want to read about that, go here—but this is the time of year when parents of the college bound make The. Worst. Mistake. Ever.

Breathe, and read on.

You’ve worked so hard to schedule, prepare, and nudge your high school senior to apply to college on time. You shared that small thrill when they hit Submit with time to spare, and you thought you were all set.

Until they got the e-mail.

“Our records indicate your application is incomplete. Unless we receive a copy of your high school transcript in the next five days, we will be unable to process your application.”

At this point, you’ve decided this is personal, so even though it’s 7 at night, you pick up the phone and leave The Mother of All Voice Mails for your school counselor.

Boy, did you just blow it. Here’s why:

Your entire reaction is based on a wrong assumption. The college hasn’t said “Forget it”; they’ve said, “We need something.” You can help them get what they need. Was that voice mail helping the college? Was it helping your child?

The college likely has the information. Admissions offices get backed up–so the transcript might not be in your child’s file, but it is in the college’s application system somewhere. That means your high school counselor–the one you just called incompetent–sent the transcript, and in a timely fashion.

If the college already has one copy of your transcript, they don’t want another one.  That would just increase their backlog. The only way to double check is for someone to call the admission office, and see if the first copy has found its way to your child’s file.

You just berated the person who can help you the most. To be honest, the person who should call the college is your child (it’s their application), but it’s likely you want the school counselor to call. You know–the one you just described as incapable of doing their job.

This isn’t to say they won’t help you and give your child their full support, but if you’ve just given them a big, and very angry, piece of your mind, you’ve now put them in a spot where they need to start keeping a paper trail of your, um, complaint. That takes time; so does recovering from being told by someone who last applied to college 20 years ago you don’t know what you’re doing. You want the problem resolved now, but you’ve just prevented that from happening. Is that really a good idea?

You’ve just left an impression you can’t erase. Once your child’s application file is complete, the college is now considering your child carefully, but they’d like a little more information about them. How does your child react to setbacks? How well do they speak up for themselves? Do they demonstrate flexibility?

The person the college will be talking to is–you guessed it–the school counselor, who is now only able to extol the virtues of your child’s ability to hand their problems over to Mommy and Daddy to solve, simply because that’s what the counselor has experienced. This isn’t about a grudge; this is about their experience.

It’s easy to freak out about the college admissions process, but just because you can, it doesn’t mean you should. Your child looks to you to set the model for handling adversity they should take with them to college. This assumes the college still wants them. Part of that is up to you.

Ooo la la

Convinced he was refined
He ordered his French wine
And pate to his glee
Was perfect in Paris
But ego lost its force
When in came the main course
Garcon, said he, what’s this?
The waiter made chef’s kiss
Monsieur, filet mignon
Ees what you’re dining on
The Yankee twirled his fork
And said, this tastes like pork
Monsieur, how right you are
In France, zis ees ze star
You ordered ze Dom Perignon
Of France’s best cochon.

What does this lesson tell?
You may know something well
In comforts of your home
But once you start to roam
The rules soon might change
But don’t see them as strange
Keep open to what’s new
Ask questions; when you do
You’ll dodge the slip you’d make
Of getting pork, not steak.

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