Pride

As a mom of two college students (well, one and a half, since Banana Girl will officially be one in September), I was obsessed with, and horrified by, the reports of the college admissions bribery scandal that overtook the news last week.

I’ll admit, it was a relief to have something other than politics and violence dominate the news, and I was no longer embarrassed to be caught scanning the reputable (and not so reputable) entertainment sites in pursuit of “more information.”

But overwhelmingly, I was heartbroken. I’m not going to debate white privilege. This was a perfect example of it, and if you don’t see that, well, you’re part of the problem. I’m part of the problem, too. I’m one of the white parents who goes outside what her kids’ school offers, and pays for SAT tutors and college counselors. I don’t regret it at all. A guidance counselor at our high school has 400 students to help with college admissions (at least). Someone I pay has a max of 20. A guidance counselor doesn’t work during the summer, on weekends, nights or holidays. My kids work on their applications at precisely those times—in fact, Banana Girl wrote her college essay at summer camp, FaceTiming her counselor (the one I paid for), during her off periods to go over it. My kids were tutored, but they took their tests on time and on their own. The only "tricks" they learned were test-taking strategies. The college counselor gave them tips and advice, but left the work up to them. They wrote their own essays and they filled in their resumés with their activities—and only the activities in which they had a pivotal role. The Princess wouldn't even let me see her essays, despite the fact that I'm a professional writer--to this day, I have no idea what she wrote. 

I don’t know what’s going to happen to the parents who were caught, and frankly, I don’t care, as long as they’re punished. I think the system needs to be overhauled, obviously. But I do feel for the kids, even the ones who knew what was happening. Because those kids are never going to know the true joy of getting into a school they worked their asses off to get into. They’re never going to know what it’s like to be sick to their stomach worrying about whether or not they’re going to get in, to studying the graphs and charts of acceptances and wondering if their grades and scores and achievements and activities are enough on their own merits. The Princess got into the school of her choice and experienced those exact doubts. I still have the photo of her when she found out she was accepted, and the joy on her face is not something you can replicate if you’ve gamed the system. Banana Girl got into her reach school and her tears of joy were genuine. 

They’ve learned an important lesson, one they’ll need to remember throughout their life, and that is pride in their own work. Cheating is wrong in whatever form it comes in. And the reward for honesty is not only your achievement, but the pride you feel in knowing you set a goal, worked toward it, and made it. That feeling can’t be faked and can’t be paid for. And that’s why I pity those kids whose parents gamed the system. They will wonder for the rest of their lives if what they've achieved is due to themselves or their parents.