Chapter 5. The Art of Knowing Your Role as a Parent: Examples from the Trenches

During the early days of the pandemic in March 2020, I started walking almost every day since I could not go to my gym. By late April, it was warmer and summer was coming—my favorite season. I listened to music on my walks and then started to listen to podcasts and books, something I had not done very often. I became temporarily addicted to Brené Brown podcasts. She had two podcasts on the book Little Fires Everywhere, written by Celeste Ng. The first was with the author and the second was with Reese Witherspoon and Kerry Washington who starred in the Hulu adaptation of the book. The podcasts drove me to read the book and watch the television series. The podcasts and the television series referenced and even highlighted the following excerpt from the book:

“Parents, she thought, learn to survive touching their children less and less.”¹

“It was the way of things, Mia thought to herself, but how hard it was. The occasional embrace, a head leaned for just a moment on your shoulder when what you really wanted more than anything was to press them to you and hold them so tight you fuse together and could never be taken apart. It was like training yourself to live on the smell of an apple alone when what you really wanted was to devour it, to sink your teeth into it, and consume it seeds, core and all.”²

This sentiment hit home for me. I feel this way about my children, but I also know I must, absolutely must, let go. And I did, for the most part; I am not perfect. As parents, we must let our children find their own way and even fail, while they are young, still at home, and under the age of 18. If they grow up in a fully protected environment, they will not learn what to do when they encounter adversity, barriers, and/or obstacles.

The following exchange from Little Fires Everywhere³ is also relevant here:

“Lexie: Oh, I think I figured out what I’m going to do for my Yale essay. It has to be about some kind of hardship I’ve overcome. So, I’ve decided that I’m going to write about South Pacific.

Izzy (sister): The Musical? What about it?

Lexie: How I killed myself for that audition and didn’t get Nelly. But I still gave it my all in the stupid chorus.

Elena (mother): I remember that honey. It was very political. You know, I for one have a real issue with this Yale essay topic. You know, your father and I worked very hard your entire life to prevent you from having any hardship and now you have to just go and try and drum one up.

Bill (father): I expect Yale to come up with a better question. Right? I mean it is Yale after all.”

What struck me about this exchange was Elena’s statement about how hard she worked to prevent her child from “having any hardship.” On the one hand, that seems ideal. Who wants their child to struggle and/or fail? But on the other hand, what happens when the child is protected from everything? That protection can only last so long, and adversity takes on new meanings when young adults have never “failed.” Young people need the ability to navigate and learn from simple mistakes, then move forward, so they are better equipped to handle the larger challenges life will no doubt bring. A friend once shared the German expression “Kleine kinder kleine sorgen, grosse kinder grosse sorgen,” translated as “small children, small problems; big children, big problems.” If a child does not learn to manage the smaller problems in life (even when they seem large to them), they will not have the skills they need to manage more serious problems later in life.

I could go on at length about the various situations I encountered over the years that showed me again and again that a student’s college education and experiences were being driven by their parents or guardians. I faced this (see Chapter 1), and it is not the way to do college. I was lucky; some students are not. This chapter presents the trends and patterns I have seen over the years and then provides some examples.

A recent article from Parents magazine shares comments from children raised by helicopter parents or from the spouses of someone raised by helicopter parents.⁴ The article was the result of a question asked in Reddit that resulted in over 2,000 comments. Comments included statements about how people who are now adults feel today. They included statements such as, “Honestly, just an anxious mess”; “Anxious, suffocated”; “I had zero life skills”; and “I held a lot of resentment towards my mom for years for not teaching me things, and for ‘saving’ me all the time.”⁵ Similarly, a 2022 study published in the Journal of Family Medicine and Primary Care shared this key point and conclusion:

“Overparenting even though done with good intentions but it has bad outcome. Parents should have constant watch on their children but over policing or constant guidance for every small thing make child less confident and generate anxiety in child. Parents are advised to read some good books or magazine on parenting. Remember parenting is a very delicate and discipline way of management of your children.

Children are lovable for every parent, but over parenting is harmful, though it starts unintentionally but become a habit, and if not checked, it will harm the child. Overcare will reduce self‑esteem, self‑confidence, and hamper the child in learning how to cope or prepare for a fight from adverse situations.”⁶

If a child is shielded from nearly all challenges and difficulties, they are unlikely to develop the essential life skills needed to manage problems and cope with disappointments. Facing challenges helps children build resilience, problem-solving abilities, and emotional regulation, all of which are critical for navigating life’s complexities. Without these experiences, they may struggle to adapt or recover when faced with inevitable setbacks in adulthood. One parent called me to tell me that they was not a helicopter parent, but they could not log into their child’s account to add their classes for them as their child was having trouble finding the classes they wanted. In these situations, I find myself struggling not to say what is really on my mind.

One of my first encounters with students’ inability to cope with disappointment or failure was about 25 years ago during our summer orientation program. A student collapsed on the floor in tears because they were so anxious about not getting every one of their first choices for courses. No one could calm down the student and we eventually had to find their father who took them home. They left Orientation and called in a few days later so we could enroll them in some classes via phone. Unfortunately, this incident is no longer a unique situation. Over the years I have seen many students “fall apart” at the simpler things such as not being able to enroll in a class,⁷ not getting into their first choice of a major, not being elected president of a club, not getting a role in a play, not being asked to pledge a sorority or fraternity, etc. These situations are disappointments, but they should not, I think, result in the severe anxiety, stress, and despair that I (and others) see in our students. Even if one of these disappointments resonates more strongly in a student, they need to have the skills to know how to manage their emotions and move on. Some students seem unable to “pick themselves up.” They enter a downward spiral that is difficult to end. How will they cope with the more serious problems and scenarios life brings us such as divorce, a failed promotion, loss of a job, or death of a loved one when they lack essential life skills and coping mechanisms?

Trigger Warnings

The increased emotional distress among college students also impacts the faculty, especially how we teach, what we say, and how we grade. We worry about the possible scenarios in which something we say might be triggering to students. For example, Jessica Schrader notes,

“…students’ emotional fragility has become a serious problem when it comes to grading. Some said they had grown afraid to give low grades for poor performance, because of the subsequent emotional crises they would have to deal with in their offices. Many students, they said, now view a C, or sometimes even a B, as failure, and they interpret such ‘failure’ as the end of the world.”⁸

Trigger warnings were originally limited in scope to topics such as sexual violence, violence, war, and sometimes around topics such as slavery or racism. As trigger warnings made their way to college campuses, faculty were asked to flag content, film, lectures, and/or assignments to avoid triggering students. Examples can be found in the National Coalition Against Censorship’s 2015 report⁹ and in the American Association of University Professors (AAUP) 2014 statement On Trigger Warnings.¹⁰

The AAUP statement notes the following:

“Oberlin College’s original policy (since tabled to allow for further debate in the face of faculty opposition) is an example of the range of possible trigger topics: ‘racism, classism, sexism, heterosexism, cissexism, ableism, and other issues of privilege and oppression.’ It went on to say that a novel like Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart might ‘trigger readers who have experienced racism, colonialism, religious persecution, violence, suicide and more.’ It further cautioned faculty to ‘remove triggering material when it does not contribute directly to the course learning goals.’ “¹¹

Anecdotally, it sometimes now seems like students are triggered by statements they simply disagree with. Complaints come to my school about a range of topics presented in lectures which go against someone’s belief. Filipovic’s article sums this up in her statement on trigger warnings saying, “Often, they seemed more about emphasizing the upsetting nature of certain topics than about accommodating people who had experienced traumatic events.”¹² Perhaps more importantly, Khazan’s article cites a 2019 study on trigger warnings that came to the following conclusion:

“To better estimate trigger warnings’ effects, we conducted mini meta-analyses on our data, revealing trigger warnings had trivial effects—people reported similar levels of negative affect, intrusions, and avoidance regardless of whether they had received a trigger warning. Moreover, these patterns were similar among people with a history of trauma. These results suggest a trigger warning is neither meaningfully helpful nor harmful.”¹³

Finally, Filipovic goes on to ask, “Have we inadvertently raised a generation that has fewer tools to manage hardship?”¹⁴ This topic is also discussed by Jonathan Haidt in his book The Anxious Generation.¹⁵ The question is whether we now have a generation of students raised by snowplow parents whose coping mechanism is avoidance. If so, what will happen when those protecting them are gone or when they cannot avoid something that is truly horrific?

Grit and Resilience

Among the many lessons I learned through my work, the most important was to allow each of my two children to be their own person, discover their own path, stumble along the way, and learn how to get back on their feet. I am fortunate that I (mostly) learned this before my children left for college. I am grateful that I learned early on to let my children “fail” when they were still at home, when they were in middle school or high school, when the risks were lower. I also know this is easy to say and so much harder to do and I certainly did not do it perfectly. It stung to watch them hurt; it still does. Yet, this is how we all learn.

As I side note, I will share it gets no easier with grandchildren. I was recently visiting my daughter when I heard a crash upstairs and then sobs from my grandson. The next thing I knew his dad brought him to me saying “tell grandma what happened.” He could not speak between his sobs. He had dropped a lighthouse that was a gift and something he loved; he did not know it was fragile. After he calmed down and started playing with another toy, his dad asked my daughter and me, “Did you already buy a replacement on Amazon for him?” She said, “I really want to, but I also want him to know that when things break or get lost, they cannot always be immediately replaced—some items are not be replaceable.” I could tell this was as hard for her as it was for me (I confessed to already searching for one too which I would not have bought without their permission). Later, my grandson was able to talk about it and said things like “The lighthouse broke because it fell. I’m really sad, but it will be okay.” I still want to buy him a new one and in fact at one of my more recent visits, he saw it (it sits broken on a top shelf since it was just the base that broke and it was sharp) and he asked me when I thought it might be fixed. I told him I was not sure, and he was okay with that answer. I think situations such as this one are a great start for young children to begin to learn coping skills.

According to many recent studies, today’s students lack resilience, grit, and/or coping mechanisms (see, for example, articles by Cummins,¹⁶ Dwivedi,¹⁷ and Schrader¹⁸). This deficiency is something I also see in many, though not all, of the students with whom I interact. Dwivedi states, “In a 2019 study of college students, 75% of current college students said that they need help for emotional or mental health problems.”¹⁹ 75%! A great number of the college-age students with whom I work have not learned how to recover from failure or to deal with disappointments. Small disappointments become big failures and “disasters.” Why? There are a few generations of young people who have been told they are good at everything and reinforcing that is that there is often a trophy or a certificate for everyone. Society went from no rewards to rewards for everyone so that no one would feel left out. Ask yourself this question: what adult do you know today who is good at everything? I think the answer is easy: no one.

Some data suggest that the “trophy for all” culture has negative consequences. In a 2016 Washington Post article, Erica Reischer states, “Telling kids that they can do anything—whether fueled by imagination or hard work—obscures the critical role of chance in success. Not every child who wants to be a surgeon or sports star can become one, even if they work hard at it.”²⁰ She goes on to ask a key question: “Let’s ask ourselves why we mourn the idea that our children’s futures are not limitless. Why do so many of us dislike the idea of having average children?”²¹ Why indeed? Why do our children have to be stars at everything? Why not excel in or enjoy one thing? More importantly, what pressure are we putting on our children when we tell them they are amazing at everything only to have them find out later in life that they really are not? Add to this the complication that they likely never had the chance to determine what they are good at doing and what they enjoy.

Books like Grit: The Power of Passion and Perseverance²² and Resilience: Hard-Won Wisdom for Living a Better Life²³ talk at length about the value of such assets. In the inside jacket cover, Eric Greitens writes:

“You cannot ‘bounce back’ from hardship. You can only move through it. There is a path through pain to wisdom, through suffering to strength, and through fear to courage—if we have the virtue of resilience.”²⁴

I have given similar advice to people when they encounter serious hardships or major losses. People typically say, “You will get over it,” but someone once said to me, “You will get/move through it.” I think the latter is far better advice and it is what I try to say to students. There are things, good and bad, in our lives that we will never forget and that we will perhaps never really get over, but we will, with help, support, and love, get through them. Ultimately, humans are incredibly resilient. What happens, though, if you are never given a chance to learn from the less significant setbacks because someone paves a smooth path for you with not even a small bump? What happens when you are 25, 35, or 40 and you never developed any coping mechanisms? Most of us can guess the answer.

Interestingly, I think it is sometimes the more privileged students who lack grit. Over the years, I worked with many first generation and/or low-income students. In many cases, these students have already overcome a range of adversities to get to college so when they begin college, they have a toolkit of coping mechanisms. Some have no family and/or no support; others have support, but no funds. Some have a little of both, but getting to college was still a marathon run for them—slow and steady, and often confusing and tedious. I also hear this experience from colleagues at conferences. University administrators and advisors say it is the students who have struggled the most before college who often have the grit they need to succeed in college. These students have resilience, they know things can be hard and unfair, and their grit is an asset. They often know how to ask for help. This ability does not mean the road is easy for them or that they do not struggle. They have faced hard times before and thus some know they will make it through again. This said, they still need help and support, and usually more than schools can offer.

I also acknowledge that many students struggle, and the parents/guardians do not become involved, but those numbers are far less than they were when I started my job in 1994. At that time, it was rare to hear from parents via phone or in person, and email was in its infancy. Now it is commonplace; not only do parents call my office, but when they do not like our response, they immediately call the University President. Their level of anger is often inappropriate as they yell at staff, faculty and/or administrators. And during the height of COVID and online classes, parents sat in on classes, meetings, and calls, sometimes hidden and sometimes not. Chapter 6 talks more about heightened parental vigilance during the pandemic.

Trends

There are patterns of behavior that I have seen repeated by different parents and guardians over the years. These behaviors have become more intense and frequent. This is what I find so alarming.

When my children were younger and problems came up, I usually first assumed that they did something wrong (sorry, kids)—not that they were wronged. A colleague in my office used to frequently say to students “Help me understand how you got yourself in this situation.” The trend I see today is for parents to assume that their children are 100% without blame, and that they were wronged. It is as if the world, in this case a university, is out to trip them up, set them up for failure, or catch them at something. A few examples may help clarify. Again, the details have been slightly modified to guarantee anonymity, but the spirit of each story is the same.

A few years ago, a letter was posted by a parent to a social media page stating that their child had lost all their classes for the upcoming term. The responses from others were immediate with comments like the following:

This is awful; the student system sucks, and they should take it down.

The student system is so broken, and it needs to be replaced.

Call the Dean, the Provost and the President!

As I read these comments, I knew that “the student (computer) system” did not do this; it does not automatically remove a student from their classes. I posted a note asking the parent to contact me directly via email with more information so I could try to determine what happened. It took me less than 30 seconds to figure out that their child had withdrawn from the prior term and had not applied to return. This scenario happens more often than most people would guess. No classes were lost because the student never enrolled in any classes, nor had they told their parents about the semester withdrawal. Because of FERPA,²⁶ I had to find the right way to share this information with the parent without revealing any details. I suggested the parent speak with their child to get the full story. A few days later I received an email thanking me and saying they had a productive talk with their child, and that the student would be returning in the following semester.

Another trend has to do with students not getting into the classes they want. As noted above, these courses are often not the ones students need for basic requirements or a major, but rather courses that they think they must have for a range of other reasons (e.g., a popular professor, a convenient time, an “easier” class, etc.). At UVA, for example, students often desire specific time slots for sections that are required for writing and world language classes. Parents complain that the university has a required class and that their children are unable to enroll. While sometimes this is true, the more likely situation is that there are no open spaces that the student wants. For example, there may be spaces available in the 8:00 AM and 9:00 AM sections, but not in mid-afternoon or later options. Once I provide this information, I almost never get a response back or I get a brief “thank you.”

Studies in Overparenting: Learning from Examples

The purpose of the examples below is not to diminish a student’s experience or their questions. I truly believe every student should be able to ask advisors, or anyone at a university, everything and anything even if they think the question is silly or if they think we will think it is silly. I always tell students it is better to ask the question than to not know something.

Before I share the more detailed examples, I want to share some of the “emergency” calls that come in to either academic offices or the Office of Student Affairs and some versions of the comments posted on various websites. The questions are valid, but they should be asked by the student. None are verbatim but they meet the spirit of what I see. Also, most are not emergencies.

My kid got a speeding ticket driving back to school. Should I pay it so they don’t end up with points and a court date?

What kind of shoes will your kids wear on graduation day?

What should we do if a faculty member moved an exam and it no longer works for us?

My son received an 89.1 on a test and got an B+. Should we call and ask for an A-?

What size are the windows in the dorms and do I need to bring curtains?

My child thinks their professor is being unfair—what should we do?

I just spent several hours going through the course catalog to figure everything out for my kid. I made a spreadsheet with notes. If you want it, let me know.

You get the idea; also note the use of “we.” If parents are paying the tuition bill, and most are, then questions about financial aid, payments, due dates, etc. are certainly reasonable and they should contact the University. But questions like the ones just above are all things that an 18- to 22-year-old should be managing on their own.

The phone calls that come in, often as urgent or as an emergency to my office and to the Dean on Call number in Student Affairs (their emergency hotline) are usually neither. None of the items in the list below qualify as urgent. Some are placed by parents and some by the student.

The following question came into an academic department at a school where one of my daughter’s friends teaches: “Where will my son be able to fill up his water bottle?”

From students to the Dean on Call emergency number at UVA:

How do I sign up for my meal plan?

I have a hold on my record, and I don’t know what to do.

I can’t get into a class that I really want.

From parents to Student Affairs:

My son has a really hard time waking up; can someone please call him every morning?

Is there a laundry service that will pick and do my child’s laundry?

Is there someone who can clean my daughter’s room every day?

Can someone be sure my daughter eats three healthy meals per day?

My child keeps getting undercooked food served to them in the dining hall. How are you going to fix this?

I am very worried about my child. I’ll tell you what happened, but you must promise never to tell them I called you.

In addition to social media posts and calls, there are also emails from parents. These take the form of questions like these:

I am reaching out for help with parent portal access to our child’s account. How do I view all their classes and grades?

I think my child has a cold; how can I send him food?

The bathrooms always run out of toilet paper—who can I call to report this?

The room map we were sent doesn’t match the actual room and now the furniture doesn’t fit. What have you all done about this?

There is mold in my son’s dorm room; where do I file a complaint?

We need to file a grade appeal, and we don’t know how to start. Please send detailed directions.

And from an email sent to the school by a parent:

“My son’s class was taught by someone not listed who did not explain anything. I want to know why this happened, why there were no TAs in the class, and what you will do to immediately fix this.”

These types of calls tend to come in from more privileged families, though not always. Some calls, understandably, are from first-generation families who do not know what to expect. And they are worried about what it means for their child to be in this whole new, very independent, environment. We have tried to provide support and information for everyone, and especially for parents of first-generation college students. Again, the issues and questions above are not silly or invalid. My point is that the student should be doing the work to solve the problem or get an answer.

In the next section I provide more detailed examples of parental interference. In these examples the students also all had valid questions, problems, and/or personal issues. The point is that either the parent’s behavior was inappropriate and/or that the student should have dealt with the issue. Examples include situations in which a parent or guardian was too involved or did too much talking, managing, or negotiating. Or, in some cases, they reflect situations where the student never made contact; the parent/guardian was the only person involved. I also fully recognize that some students face serious adversity and trauma while in college and the second set of examples below addresses those kinds of situations (which happen far more regularly than most people, even faculty, would think). Interestingly, I find it to be more often true than not that the more serious the issue, the more resilient the student might be, and the more that student wants to negotiate the situation on their own.

Overblown Concerns or Involvement by Parents

The examples below are grouped roughly by theme and address the various kinds of interference that many of us in higher education deal face daily. The questions are valid; the point, again, is that the student should be asking the questions.

Class Selection

Avery

One of the more recent incidents took place at our first return to in-person orientation in July 2022. My university had in-person summer orientation since the late 1990s, but COVID required that we shift to a virtual program. We were happy, though a bit nervous to return to in-person sessions (COVID was still surging) and to again see the excitement and energy of the new students.

In the middle of a session unrelated to academics a parent stood up and began shouting that their child could not enroll in a chemistry class. While the parents were attending various talks, the students were with advisors and academics deans in the library enrolling in their classes. We knew the student had been on the phone with them for the entire two-hour enrollment block. Some students made quick calls (even this is not necessary) but this student never got off the phone with their parent.

One of the orientation staff members had to go into the audience and escort the parent out. The parent demanded to talk to someone, so they were escorted to my office (which was mostly empty since we were all with students). There, they proceeded to yell at two staff members who told them the same thing (summer is the start of enrollment; nothing is final; in August students can add their name to wait lists, etc.). After 45 minutes of this, the parent left and both a dean and program director called them to try to calm them down. The time and energy this adult took and the disruption they caused were astronomically out of proportion with the problem—not getting into a chemistry class.

Why was this parent so upset? Was it something else in their life? Do they micro-manage everything in thei child’s life? What will happen if and when something serious transpires?

Kai

Kai sat in my office with me trying to build their third semester classes. This is the point in time where students should be working on the completion of their general education requirements and taking classes that will help them declare a major. This includes both completing prerequisite classes as well as a bit of exploring—both are critical.

Kai still needed one more class in math or science to complete that general education requirement. “I’m not really a math/science kind of person,” the student said. In response, I suggested some of our introductory science classes on “cool” topics, classes that did not include a lab. Kai perked up at an astronomy class—Unsolved Mysteries in the Universe. “That sounds interesting,” they said; “I’ll ask my parents about it tonight.”

I couldn’t help myself and responded with “Oh, is one of them an astronomer.” “No,” Kai laughed. “Then why do you need to ask them? What will they know that you and I don’t know?” Kai responded with “It’s not that; I just always run my classes by them first.”

This is problematic on many levels. I continually hear parents scoff at:

Classes with what we like to call “cool” titles (e.g., Unsolved Mysteries of the Universe; Witchcraft; Sex and Gender);

Classes that seem too politically or socially charged (e.g., Darwinian Medicine; Queer American History; How Others See Us);

Classes that seem too “dated” (Exploring the Ottoman Empire, 1300-1700; Roman Civilization; Greek Mythology); or,

Classes that are perceived as a “waste of time” (Drawing I; Introduction to Acting; Introduction to Poetry; Introduction to Archaeology).

These responses reflect a lack of understanding about knowledge and what is considered “valuable” knowledge. More importantly, it prevents a student from taking a class that may spark an interest or lead to other interests. It is a lose-lose situation for the student.

Selecting or Changing a Major

Jordan

Jordan desperately wanted to major in drama. This student loved the theater and earned good grades in all of their drama classes. By the time I met Jordan, they had already been in several plays—this was at the start of their third year. I asked Jordan when they planned to meet with the drama department to formally declare a major and the response was “my parents want to me to major in economics.” I asked what they planned to do. The response? “I am going to declare a major in economics.” Jordan went on to say that their parents told them they would not pay for an education if the student majored in something as “worthless as drama.”

I hear this repeatedly and it shows a fundamental misunderstanding about what a major means and what a liberal arts degree is. A liberal arts school is not a pre-professional school. A major is or should be what a student loves to study, what they enjoy, and what they are good at doing. Though it may become their career, in the majority of cases it does not. That is, most anthropology majors do not become anthropologists. A drama major can go onto to almost any career; it can take you anywhere. Think of the skills learned: public speaking, working as part of a team, analyzing complex materials, being on time, etc.

By the end of Jordan’s third year, I saw a very unhappy student, with low grades. Jordan said they were switching to drama and would figure everything else out later. In the end, I believe it all worked out but not without unnecessary angst and stress for the student. Had the parents said, “we support you in whatever you want to do,” the student would likely have been happier much earlier and had a better GPA at graduation.

The quote below comes from Glennon Doyle’s book Untamed²⁷ and I think it is very relevant.

“Erica and I went to college together. She was a born artist but she studied business because her mother was a corporate executive and wanted Erica to become one too. Erica resented every minute she spent in those business classes. It’s nearly impossible to blaze one’s own path while following in someone else’s footsteps. Erica returned to our dorm each day and recovered from her business boredom by painting. She graduated with a business degree and then fell in love with a fantastic guy and worked in a corporate office to put him through medical school. Next the babies came and she quit her job to stay home and care for them. All the while she heard a voice nagging her to start painting again. One day she told me she planned to honor that longing, to honor herself, by enrolling in art school. I heard fizz and fire in her voice for the first time in a decade.
So I answered the phone in celebration of Erica’s commitment and I said “Hey, how is school going?”
She was quiet for a moment and then said “Oh that. That was silly. Brett is so busy and the kids need me. Art school just seemed so selfish after a while.”
Why do women find it honorable to dismiss ourselves? Why do we decide that denying our longing is the responsible thing to do? Why do we believe what will thrill and fulfill us will hurt our people? Why do we mistrust ourselves so completely?”

Greer

When I met with Greer during our pre-enrollment period, they seemed quite stressed.

“You look stressed,” I said, “What’s going on?”

“I just can’t do the business major,” Greer said. “I am good at it and the classes are fine, but this is not what I want to study.”

“Okay,” I replied, “no problem. What do you think you want to study?”

“I love history,” Greer replied. “I called my parents last night to tell them and they said it was fine so that’s what I want to do.”

“Great,” I said, “Go for it.”

Greer seemed shocked. “What? Really? I can just change my mind and study history?”

This student was in their second year, so they had not yet declared a major. At this point, the change was a simple switch in interests that would not delay graduation or cause the student to fall behind. Greer seemed to think that this would not be permitted; I do not know why but I am glad they thought to ask.

This type of situation is common although sometimes the ending is not a happy one. Sometimes the students want to do one thing—take a certain class or declare a certain major—and the parent says no. This was my situation up until the last minute. I was glad that in this case the parents were supportive. I remain shocked, though I am not sure why, that (1) so many students run their academic decisions by their parents before making them, (2) and so many think of a change in interest as failure. Most parents/guardians are not faculty, advisors, or counselors. As with the example just before, what do the parents know that trained professionals do not? And again, I was also surprised that Greer thought I, or our policies, would not allow this. We guide and advise; we do not decide what a student should or should not do. I am glad this situation had a happy ending.

Overinvolvement in Student’s Academic Life

Taylor

My university has an undergraduate business school and major to which students apply in the fall of their second year (the application cycle recently changed to the spring semester of a student’s first year). There are several prerequisite classes students must take and complete before entering the business school (economics, statistics, calculus, world language, writing, humanities classes, an introductory business class and one year of accounting). Many more students apply than are accepted because the business school is relatively small. Most cannot articulate why they want to transfer to this school other than to say, “I want a good job,” “I want a high paying job,” “My parents told me to,” or “I want to make a lot of money.” An occasional student talks about their love of numbers and their desire to be an accountant.

In fall 2021 the parent of a student wrote to the College of Arts & Sciences three times asking for detailed explanations of the classes their child needed to take. Each time the response was simple and along the lines of, “If after reviewing the pre-requisites on the school’s web site, your child still has questions about the business school, they should contact that school directly.” The parent responded the first time saying that the student did contact them but still had questions. The response again was, “If your student has additional questions, they should meet with a pre-business school advisor from the business school.” The third time the parent wrote, “Would someone just please answer these questions.”

In addition to the College of Arts & Sciences being the wrong contact for questions about another school, this student never wrote to ask any questions. I need not go on at length to ask how likely it is that this 20-year-old will function well in the world if they cannot ask some simple advising questions and take the initiative to help themself by meeting one-on-one with a qualified advisor.

Desi

Desi’s parents (yes, both) sent an email like the one below a few days before classes were to begin.

Good afternoon,

Our child is in the College of Arts & Sciences. We have a couple of questions regarding classes for the major and what is required this semester.

Desi is currently a biology major but is planning to get a BS specialization in Biochemistry. Can you tell me which classes Desi needs for this track? Desi is also a pre-health student and I see some math classes listed but we don’t know which one they should take.

Also, I see for the first year Desi needs chemistry. Does Desi have to take it then? I ask because our child is having a hard time getting into a calculus class. We are on the waitlist for four different times, with four different numbers. What are our chances of getting into one of these classes, and what options do we have besides waiting it out?

We’ve been told to email the professor or show up to the class when the semester starts and ask for permission. Are either of these options acceptable?

We await your responses.

Where do I begin when there is so much wrong with this message? Why are the parents writing? Why is the student unable to take the initiative to ask these questions themselves? The repeated use of “we” throughout the message is concerning. Saying “we are on the waitlist” is nonsensical—only the student, the one who will actually be attending college, is on the waitlist.

Also, much of this information is on various web sites and Desi needs to learn to look first and then ask questions if things are unclear. And the parents want to write to the professor? That would likely go unanswered, or the parents could receive a response that does more harm than good to the student!²⁸

Desi would have best been served by seeking out an advisor, introducing themself, and asking these questions. The parents were not helpful, and they deprived Desi of the chance to make connections and start to find their own way. They did more harm than good and, sadly, they had no idea.

Harper

Harper was a student with whom I had met a few times for advising. When we met in their third semester, they confirmed that they were still interested in applying to our undergraduate business school. Again, this has been a school to which students apply at the start of their fourth semester; they then complete their last two years in that school. It is a very competitive application process.

There are numerous prerequisite classes, listed in the above example, most of which Harper was missing as their fourth semester was about to begin. I listed them out for the student; there were at least four required classes missing along with the world language requirement (which the student would also need if they remained in the College of Arts & Sciences). The language requirement is one my school typically likes students to complete before the start of the third year and one in which this student still needed two more classes. The business school also requires these classes. Harper’s GPA was also well below that of students typically admitted but I did not mention this as there can always be exceptions.

I asked that Harper meet with an advisor in the business school to find out whether they would be eligible to apply and that they then come back to see me. We set up a time for the same week—an appointment that the student missed. That evening, I received an email from one of Harper’s parents which copied the student too. The parent said they had several academic concerns, all of which Harper could easily have brought to me.

The parent told me that Harper did not want to take all the prerequisite classes together (nor should they; nor did I advise them to do so). The parent laid out a different plan, one which would not work for the student, and then asked a few very detailed questions about requirements—also all questions Harper should and could ask me. I responded to the student and copied the parent. I provided a detailed summary of our meeting and of what the student would need to do to be able to apply to the business school. I received no response.

This was a simple matter. No one was at risk, no one was sick. The student knew me and knew how to contact me and yet never did. If a 20-year-old adult college student cannot address these concerns, how will they function after college? Had the parent always done everything else for this student? In defense of some of our students, I know that some are mortified when they find out that a parent or guardian has called me. They are embarrassed and sometimes angry. I understand. I had the opposite problem, but I would certainly have been horrified if my parents ever called a professor, advisor, or academic dean.

Angel

Here, almost verbatim, is an email from a parent. A few details were changed to preserve anonymity.

Dear School Official,

I am inquiring about major/minors appropriate for my child who intends to apply to UVA for the upcoming fall semester. We plan to do a visit in person (from Ohio) in July and we need some guidance for which major/tour would be best for Angel to get a full picture.

Angel is interested in medical fields, veterinary science, and forensics, mainly.

Thank you for your help.

-The Parent

Again, where to start? We get many, many emails like this one on a regular basis. The questions may be different, but the tone is the same and it is the parent writing. This message is a good example of what is problematic. Some parts of this message are okay—a family planning a trip and a parent trying to line up tours. But the use of “we” is what always troubles me. For example, “We need some guidance…” And the interests of the student are already laid out and defined. The student may not change their mind. Like me, this student might be part of the approximately 20% of students who do not decide to change majors, but they are in the minority (more on this in the next chapter). Most importantly, why was Angel unable to write the letter—even with some coaching from their parent? “You do it,” the parent could have said. “I’ll help you to be sure you have a professional tone. Then you will know what to do next time.”

Intervening (and Not Intervening) in Probations and/or Suspensions

Alex (and their parent)

Alex started college as a new student out of high school (not a transfer student) in fall 2022. Like all our students, Alex selected their own classes and, like all our students, they were informed of the relevant deadlines around schedule changes (when and how to drop, add, swap, and withdraw from classes). Alex was also told to carry a full load of classes (15 to 16 credits) in the first semester in case they needed to withdraw from a class later in the term. Nearing the end of the semester, Alex was failing two classes. I do not know whether Alex did not know they were failing, or they knew and decided not to withdraw because they would then only carry 14 credits. Alex was also a student athlete and therefore could not fall below 12 credits as this would have resulted in a loss of athletic eligibility.²⁹ At the end of the semester, Alex was placed on academic probation.

While I am sure Alex was disappointed, the student dutifully met with their academic dean at the start of the next term and was ready to move on. The parent was not. The parent emailed the Dean of Students to ask what could be done to remove Alex’s academic probation and the failing grades and that message was forwarded to me. The parent’s email said something along the lines of:

“Who can I speak to next about this? Why is there is such a hard stand to say there is nothing that can be done. There is always something that can be done and this needs to be fixed. Surely you have a way for parents to address these types of issues and a grievance process associated with it.”

I found it curious that this parent believed they should have a platform for a grade appeal, but it did not surprise me. My response was short and simple—I have learned less is more and my response was something like this:

“UVA does not alter transcripts to remove grades or for any other reason. I know this is disappointing to hear but this decision is final. I understand Alex met with their academic dean and I would urge you to encourage them to continue to do so. Alex’s dean can help with course selection, major advice, and refer them out to other resources as needed. Thank you.”

Was this the end? No. It resulted in an email from the parent to the Provost and the President, with three different responses explaining that we do not remove, replace, or change grades after they have posted. The parent replied with comments such as,

“I demand immediately an understanding of your appeal process. Stop saying it’s final when I know it’s not. I am not sure what has been done in the past, but the stress this first semester has caused has been challenging and was completely avoidable. I want Alex’s failing grades removed immediately or you need to let my child take summer classes to replace the grades that are Fs.³⁰ Alex doesn’t even need these classes for anything and they were too advanced for a new student!”

Yes, the parent received the same response as before because there is no appeal process from a parent (or in this case from a student) who is simply unhappy with a final grade. The classes that Alex failed were not too advanced; they included an introductory math and science class—both made up largely of new, first-year, first-semester students.

The parent continued to email the university asking for the policy (which was sent) with their final message saying just this:

“Since you are unable to resolve this for me, send me the contact information for the University’s legal team.”

This response stopped all communications since once someone says they plan to take legal action against the university we refer them to the University’s legal counsel. This case was unlikely to go anywhere, and we did not hear from the parent again.

Chris and Their Parents

Chris was placed on academic probation at the end of their third semester. Chris was vague in our meeting about what happened, saying it was mostly a lack of motivation as they had little interest in their classes. I asked the student to perhaps consider taking a semester off to get some focus, but they said no, the next term would be better. Chris thought they would like their classes better and that all would be fine. As with all students, I told Chris to check in with me every three to four weeks and sooner if they needed me for anything. Chris came in once, just a few weeks later, and said that everything was fine. I told them I was not convinced, but they assured me everything was okay.

At the end of the semester, Chris earned a second academic probation and was therefore subject to suspension. Like many students, this second probation seemed to have cured all the problems the student was having, and Chris told me multiple times that everything would be fine if they could just return to school. The parents agreed, arguing that the structure of school would help. My counterpoint that it had not done so for the past two terms went unheard. Chris needed time away and the request to return was not approved. Chris would have to sit out the year.

Absent any mitigating circumstances, and especially those that have not been resolved, the faculty at the university where I work tend to uphold academic suspensions. Students can appeal, but if they cannot clearly show us in writing and in a meeting, as best as they are able, that they are ready to tackle full-time study, we err on the side of caution, and the student sits out for a full academic year. During that time away, they hopefully tackle the problem or problems that led to the suspension.

I have never thought an academic suspension to be punitive. Based on the criteria at my school, academic suspension is a clear signal that something is not working for the student. Most of our students are suspended because of back-to-back academic probations. The first probation is the sign something is not working; we meet with the student and try to map out a recovery plan. The second probation means that the plan did not work, and time away is needed.

Our admissions office does a good job of admitting qualified students. With that assumption in place,  all admitted students can be successful. But we know they are not. Sometimes it is because “life happens,” sometimes it is because they spend their time partying, and sometimes it is because they need some time away to sort out whatever led to the suspension in the first place. I feel strongly that allowing a student who is not ready to return to come back early is unethical. A student returning early may be at risk of failing again, and that cost is high—emotionally and financially. School is not therapy. I have often heard parents say, “Just let them come back, the structure will be good.” But the structure of taking 15 credits at a top, competitive college (or at any school) is not a recovery plan. One can find structure in many places such as a job or by volunteering. Time off is what is needed.

Darcy and Their Parents

I met Darcy during my first few years in the job of an Assistant Dean. I met with Darcy frequently and it was always hard for me to read how they were doing. They never seemed happy and struggled academically. By the time I met them, they had completely switched programs/schools within my university three times, which is not easy to do, and had also changed their major multiple times. This left the student somewhat behind, but Darcy also had not found anything that truly sparked their interest. Darcy described life as being on a trampoline bouncing around from program to program and from one idea to the next. Art, pre-law, pre-health, sociology, etc.—Darcy was all over the place. Eventually the student was academically suspended.

When students are suspended, I tell them to take the time they need to figure out what was not working and to know that we will still be here when they return to complete their degree. Anecdotally, I think that the majority return and they are successful when they do. This student was different. The family insisted that we allow Darcy to return, but they had no academic plan, no direction, and they were clearly not motivated to be in school. The suspension was not overturned, and Darcy left the university.

Unlike most of our students, this student never contacted me about returning. I felt bad when Darcy left, but I also knew they needed time away. Again, suspensions are not punitive; when a student is not ready to return, I feel strongly that it would be unethical to let them come back and fail again. But I did think about this student often and I wondered what happened to them.

Sometime before COVID hit, perhaps around 2018 or 2019, I returned to my office from a meeting, looked down the hall, and saw someone who looked vaguely familiar. It was about ten to fifteen years later, and it was Darcy.

The student walked toward me and said, “Do you remember me?”

“Yes,” I replied, “definitely. How are you?”

Darcy replied that all was good and said that they recalled that I had been tough on them, but in retrospect it was, they said, what was needed. Darcy had transferred to another school, completed an undergraduate degree, and gone on to professional school. Darcy was married with children and was a working professional; this former student was doing incredibly well.

In the end, though Darcy did not complete a degree at my school, the student did complete a degree and went on to earn a professional degree. This outcome is all that matters. And, in the end, Darcy also realized that they needed that time away and it helped. I cannot say what would have happened had the family been successful in lobbying for an immediate return to school, but my guess is Darcy would have failed again and perhaps never finished because the student would have been demoralized. Darcy took the time needed, found a new way, and was (and is) thriving.

Sky and a Parent

The parent of a student called the Dean’s office upset and angry that their child just found out they were short on credits from within our school to graduate. A technical point about our degree is that students need 120 credits to graduate. Of those 120 credits, 18 credits may come from another school at the university (e.g., nursing, architecture, etc.) and 102 must come from the College of Arts & Sciences. The parent said that their child had only just discovered that they had 25 credits from other schools, seven more than could count toward the degree, meaning graduating on time was at risk. It was clear, this parent said, that the university, the college, and the student’s advisor had failed. And why, the parent asked, would the student system not send out alerts when this happened?

We tell our students from their first day at summer orientation that they are responsible for tracking their academic progress toward their degree. They have a tool with which they can do this that works well. There are numerous people they can go to when they have questions or concerns. In addition, our school registrar sends personal emails to students at various points late in their seventh semester and early in their eighth and final semester telling them they may not graduate unless they clear up whatever problem is pending. None of us knew if Sky ever looked at this online tool or asked an advisor for assistance. In looking through the notes on this student, it was clear that there was another time that they did not follow policies and guidelines and had to forfeit credit earned.

The parent’s intervention was not helping Sky who needed to sit down with an academic dean to map out a plan for graduation (which would be difficult but doable). The parent was not helping their child learn how to navigate the mistakes they made, learn from them, and move forward. The parent continued to write to the dean; the student never contacted us.

Micah

Micah was moving through their semesters in college, but not excelling. When I met with Micah, the student seemed unmotivated and disinterested. Micah was majoring in chemistry because they thought it was a “good major” that would result in a “good job.” I tried to dig deeper but Micah was unable to answer my questions. At the end of the spring term, Micah was placed on academic probation. Micah returned in the fall, not wanting to take time off and was again placed on probation which led to suspension (like the student described above).

Micah came to meet with me after the deadline to appeal a suspension had passed, so I braced for an uncomfortable and difficult meeting. But when we met, Micah acknowledged that they needed time away to refocus and figure out what they were doing. They did not want to appeal because they now saw time away was what was needed.

Micah left for the year and stayed in touch. The student worked and volunteered and returned a year later. Micah switched to an English major, something they enjoyed and had been good at in high school. When April rolled around, Micah emailed me to say they were not doing well and had been struggling for a long time with anxiety and depression. They wanted to withdraw from the semester.

Withdrawing from a semester is always a hard decision. To the student, it usually feels like they are admitting defeat. There is also the tuition loss and parents must explain to friends and family why their child is back home as well as why they “dropped out of school”—language we never use. This feeling should not drive the decision, but sometimes it does. Parents also think school is structure, but as I said before, school is not the place to be when dealing with physical or mental health issues.

Micah did withdraw from the semester. In retrospect, the student may have returned from the academic suspension too quickly. While students and their families often feel like a year is too long, the collective wisdom from my office has been that it is the minimum amount of time needed for a student to refocus and regroup. Some students need more time, and I wish they would take it. I often find myself telling students “Take the time you need; we will still be here.”

The More Serious Problems

There are also students in college with what I can only call “more serious” problems that are usually related to mental or physical health or to a traumatic event. This fact should not minimize the situations described above. The problems just described are all real—the issue is they are being handled by a third party and not the student.

Some students spend the entirety of their academic life in counseling, and some seek counseling along the way. Some make it by taking time off, some leave and do not return, and some succeed. At what cost I cannot say because college is hard enough for a healthy individual. When you factor in some of the problems I have seen students try to work through, I often do not know how they do it.

Mel

I met Mel in my first year as an academic dean and when they were in their second year of college. An incredibly bright and outgoing student, Mel had faced discrimination along the way which took its toll. Something happened in Mel’s third year of college, an event I will not describe to protect the student’s identity, that impacted them and their friends greatly. Mel was impacted the most by what happened, and the student began failing their classes. In the fall of their third year, they were placed on probation and, in the following spring, it became clear they were again not doing well.

Mel asked to meet with me, I knew this student quite well by this time, and they came in with coffee and a pastry for me.

“I am going to be suspended,” Mel said. “I’m failing all but one of my classes.”

I tried to talk Mel into withdrawing from the semester to protect their GPA and avoid suspension, but Mel wanted no part of that.

The student said they loved the one class they were doing well in and wanted to “stick it out” to prove to themselves that they could do it.

“I know I’ll be suspended then, and I know I need time away, but I need to finish this class,” Mel told me. Mel finished the term passing that one class and, as predicted, failing or earning low grades in the others. They were suspended, left school for home and a job.

We stayed in touch via email, and I was happy to hear Mel was doing well; I thought so highly of this student, and I had come to care about them a lot. After about five years, Mel said they wanted to return to complete their degree. Mel needed to earn some additional credits, which they did while working, and eventually came back for what was their last year. Mel was a different person—confident, strong, and self-assured. Mel had harmed their GPA by failing most of their classes in the term before they left so they were determined to return strong and finish in a year. Mel did just that and they did it while taking 19 credits each semester and earning just under a 4.00. I was astounded at what a different person this student was academically—they had been the ideal candidate for taking some time off.

Mel wanted to go to graduate school and asked me for letters of recommendation which I was thrilled to write. I took a great deal of time to explain that the student’s transcript told the story of two students—the one before suspension and the one after. The graduate program would be admitting the latter and they would be crazy not to take this student (I used slightly different wording in the formal letter). Mel was accepted to several programs and went off to graduate school which they completed. Mel has had several successful jobs since then and we are still in touch after just over 30 years. This is the joy of my job.

Cameron

Cameron was a recruited athlete when they entered college. They had a difficult first year which would only get worse. This student too would eventually be suspended and would end up taking time off. It would take Cameron about 9 years to finish a degree, including time away and several part-time semesters.

Cameron had numerous issues they had to face in their life as well as what I called “fear of success” syndrome. Cameron always started strong, but at around the mid-point of the semester, just when it looked like they would be okay, they would stop going to class and stop turning in work. They would have to withdraw from some classes and would fail others. I constantly placed a hold on this student’s enrollment which forced them to meet with me.

Cameron once said “Why do I always have a hold? My friends don’t seem to.”

I replied, “Would you come meet with me if you didn’t?”

“No,” they said, “to be honest, probably not.”

“Thus, the hold,” I said. And we both smiled.

Cameron was also someone I met in my first few years in the job of academic dean and someone I am still in touch with today. Cameron was, and is, an amazing individual; interesting, funny, and smart. School was not always “their thing.” This student had more job offers when they graduated than almost anyone I knew at the time and a relatively low GPA. The GPA just did not matter to employers, and I am sure Cameron “wowed” those who interviewed them. Cameron has had many successful jobs since college and has been active in their community as well. I am so happy and proud to know this student and to still be in touch.

Leslie

I met Leslie in their third year of college. A graduate student who knew the student well walked them over to my office and said, “This student needs help and I hope you can find them some.” Leslie told me that they were a victim of sexual abuse and had tried counseling, but was either dismissed and told “just be strong, you can do this” or “this situation is too complex for me to help you.” I must admit that I froze for a bit, unsure of what to do. I then picked up the phone and called a colleague in the counseling center. I explained the situation and begged her to see this student. At first, she said she could not take on anyone else because she already had a full case load, but I pleaded.

“Please just see this student once,” I said. “We need to help them; they have been passed around and passed off too many times.”

The counselor agreed and I made an appointment for Leslie for later that day.

The counselor called me back to say the student had faced some of the worst abuse she had heard and that she would make time to work with them. She did so for the rest of Leslie’s academic career. Leslie came to see me often and, as you would imagine, had highs and lows. Even the highs were somewhat low as this student was confronting so much pain in their life. At times Leslie was more high functioning than others, but they always managed to do well academically with extra time for assignments and incompletes. I always went to bat for Leslie.

One semester they came in and said, “I’m not doing well right now. I need to pick my spring classes, and I just can’t do it. I can’t make any decisions about anything right now and I can’t face the technology.”

I said, “Okay, we will do it together.”

And we did. Leslie was grateful and when they graduated, on time, they wrote me a beautiful note. Leslie was so appreciative that someone finally cared.

Casey

I met Casey shortly after Tuesday, September 11, 2001, a day no one will forget. We all remember where we were when we heard the news that planes had crashed into the World Trade Center. I had just dropped my son off at his high school after a dentist appointment. That was at about 8:45 AM and by the time I pulled into my parking space at work, I heard the news. A plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. Like many people, I think, I assumed it must have been a small plane that went off course. I listened for a moment and then turned off the car and walked the short distance to my office. I entered the building and people were already talking about it, though none of us knew yet what had really happened. By the time I gathered my papers, checked my mailbox, walked upstairs to my office, and turned on my computer, there was more information available.

Someone came by and said, “Log into CNN; it’s bad.”

I tried but could not get the page to load right away and when it finally did the horror of the north tower spewing smoke took up the screen. A few people, including a close colleague two doors down, came in to watch with me. When the second plane struck the south tower he said, “I have to leave; my daughter lives New York City.” I cannot imagine the terror he must have felt until he was able to connect with her.

The next day, Casey appeared in my office. Their parent was in the Pentagon when the plane hit, and they were killed. Casey came in to tell me they had to go home and was not sure if they could come back. I struggled to keep myself together, but their pain was so evident it was close to impossible.

“I am so very sorry,” I said, “What can I do?”

Casey said they did not know, they could not really speak.

So I said, “Go home. Do you need help making arrangements? Do you have a safe way to get to home?”

“Yes,” they replied, “a friend was going to drive them home.”

I contacted Casey’s instructors and told them to stay in touch and let me know what I could do. A week or so later Casey emailed saying that they really wanted to come back to school. Their family wanted them to finish their degree and they both agreed it was what the other parent would have wanted.

We stayed in touch off and on throughout that year. With help, support, counseling, and Casey’s strong will and determination, they made it through the semester and the year and earned their degree. Casey also went on to graduate school.

Parker

Parker was a student athlete I had worked with for several years. A smart and dedicated student, they started struggling in their final year. It became clear to me that Parker was going to fail all their classes, and I was having a difficult time getting them to withdraw from the term. At the last minute, the student responded and withdrew.

Parker took some time off, returned and repeated the pattern, but this time, despite having what I felt was a good relationship with the student, they did not respond. Parker was suspended when they failed all their classes and “disappeared” for almost five years. I continued to try to reach them as they were very close to graduating.

I received no response until several years later when they contacted me to see if they could return.

“Yes,” I said, “you can. But you have used up all your full-time semesters [we limit our students to eight full time semesters], so you will need to finish by taking summer classes and as a part-time student with no more than six credits per term.”

They said that was fine, likely even best, and that they were ready.

When spring 2023 rolled around, Parker need three more classes and I helped them request one more full-time semester. The request was granted and they enrolled in their final three classes. Upon returning, they had done well earning all As in the classes they took. But spring brought some health issues and Parker was struggling.

Parker reached out to the counselor they had worked with who contacted me and we developed a plan to help them finish. This was a student in distress who needed additional help. Though they were worried about passing two of their classes, they finished those three classes with an almost 4.00 grade point average! Parker graduated. Their counselor and I were so thrilled for them and so happy to see them at graduation.

Sometimes students need significantly more help, and we will always do what we can. But they must ask us—how else would we know?—and they must be willing to accept the help and follow our guidance.

Summary

Having been at this job for just over 30 years I (unfortunately) have many more of these stories, but they are hard for me to tell and deeply personal for the students. You now also have some insight into the kinds of issues the student should deal with and the more serious issues students confront while in college. Some come to college with these problems and some encounter tragedies along the way. This is not to say that the students in the first batch of examples do not have real and/or serious problems; they often do. The issue is the student is not trying to address the problem. What is also unique about these last few cases is that, in each one, the student managed the situation. There was no involvement from the parents. Each student worked hard, asked with help, dealt with trauma, and developed coping mechanisms to move forward.

Every situation is different. But I could not tell just the stories of parental interference where the student could have negotiated the issue and not acknowledge that sometimes really bad things can happen to other students. Those of us in higher education help students face these horrible things: rape, the death of family and friends, car accidents, murders, suicides, the consequences of natural disasters and wars, and serious illnesses.

The one rule I made for myself, which I have come close to breaking several times, is that I will not cry with or in front of a student, unless it is out of joy. I do not think my crying helps them and in fact it might do more harm than good. When students are struggling, they need someone to be there for them and be strong for them and not fall apart with them. That does not mean I do not emote compassion and empathy (or even get teary eyed); I just try so, so hard not to cry with them. I cry later. Sometimes I go home and just scream or go to the gym and do lots of sand ball slams or box. But I leverage all my willpower to stay strong for them as I hold their hand or hug them or just sit and listen.

Parents, my advice to you is simple: unless you think your child is in danger, “back off.” Luckily, life-threatening situations are rare. I wish I could say that at my parent talks, but I do not think it would translate well or correctly. Let your now 18- or 19-year-old drive their own life. Give them love, support, care, and advice if they ask for it, but it is time to sit back and watch. Be the cheerleader, not the coach.

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