There was a time when I was the primary mail recipient in our
house. Didn't matter whether it was bills, junk mail, letters or
more bills. Most of the mail carried my name. I've always
liked coming home at the end of the day and getting my mail. Now
the more I open the mail, the less I find is for me.
Most of the incoming mail is now directed toward my oldest son.
He's a junior at Elk Grove High. He doesn't get the bills,
unfortunately. Or the unsolicited mail from realtors asking to
sell our house for us. Our oldest gets bombarded with letters and
brochures from colleges.
It's a sure thing, like getting stuck at a red light on Laguna
Boulevard or having trouble making a left turn out of the Elk Grove
Library packing lot. Our mailbox is constantly crammed with
college brochures.
"Mail's in," I grunt as I struggle with the front door, keeping one
foot out to stop Sophie the Bigheaded Mutt from running outside while
using both arms to balance the mountain of college marketing mail.
As soon as I reach the kitchen table, the recruitment letters begin
falling from my arms like leaves from a violently shaken tree.
St. Mary's falls on a chair, but Grinnell lands on the floor. I
accidentally kick Chicago toward the dog's water dish and step on St.
Louis while setting the Cal-Poly and the others on the table.
"More college mail," I tell my son.
"What?" he asks, removing one iPod earpiece in an effort to hear my better while not interrupting his latest GameCube efforts.
"I said more college mail from some good schools: Harvard, Stanford, UOP and a few others."
"Cool" he responds unemotionally, planting the earpiece firmly back in
place and turning his attention to the important matters at hand,
blowing up buildings during wartime or something.
Our son splits his college mail into several categories: great schools
he'd like to attend, good schools he'd consider attending, mediocre
schools he'd rather not attend and schools that he's never heard of.
Getting great grades and then getting on college mailing lists will
produce mountains of mail. Personally, I wouldn't know. My
grades were okay in high school. I was an occasional honor roll
student. So occasional that when I appeared on the Dean's List
all of the "regulars" considered my name a typo.
I never got the tidal wave of college mail. Any mail I did
receive likely came from universities trying to direct me elsewhere
instead of to their campuses. Eventually, I applied to one
university and got accepted. The tuition was nominal - even by
today's standards -and I graduated (Yes, I graduated and have the
diploma to prove it!) with a college degree and no debt.
My son's college mail is all pretty much the same. The envelopes
are decorated with majestic ivy-covered walls, historic looking
buildings and attractive young people smiling as they stroll from
"Principles of Macroeconomics" to "The Exploitation of Film in American
Culture." There are always photos of sports teams in action and
students sitting on some lawn, with their legs crossed, no doubt
plotting the next kegger.
If colleges really want to get the attention of students - AND their
parents - they ought to flat out state the cost of tuition and what
financial breaks are available. That stuff should be on the
envelopes next to the cute co-eds chatting it up with the guys with the
monstrous biceps.
If more universities did that, then we'd have one more college mail category: "possibly affordable."
Tim is the author of "From Wedgies to Feeding
Frenzies: A Semi-Survival Guide for Parents of Teens." To learn more
about the book, email Tim at
or log onto his website at www.timherrera.com.
