Wednesday, November 15, 2006

While you’re a student, Swarthmore is kind of like your Mom.

That’s not the set-up to some clever insult. (Obviously, no one’s ever called Swarthmore “easy”). That‘s a simile meant to convey the idea that Swarthmore spends a fair amount of time looking after you while you’re there. She feeds you, houses you, and sends you stern little reminders about all those DVDs you never returned to McCabe. It’s sort of reassuring to have her keeping an eye out for you. Unfortunately, when you graduate, your relationship with Swarthmore changes a bit. It’s not that she loses touch. It’s that overnight she turns from your mother into your teenage daughter. She’s still sweet, charming, and you love her to death. But you can hardly turn around without her asking for $10 to go to the movies or $50 for new designer jeans or $14 million to build a fancy state-of-the-art residence hall.

This process actually starts senior year when your class agents start collecting contributions for your class gift. This often involves them asking you to show up the previous year’s grads by surpassing their incredible donation record. Of course, no one mentions that (for example) the class of 2006 is too busy figuring out how to fix its broken shower, pay its overdue phone bill, and put together “dressy business casual” outfits for its job to notice your Guinness Book worthy attempts. Or that even if we do discover you’ve bested our mark, we won’t have time to formulate a grand concession speech or pillory ourselves in shame. We might even be happy that you improved the lives of some future Swatties-to-be. Or simply relieved that it’s Mom and not us paying to build the automated walkway from Sharples up to Parrish.

Now, like the teenager who casually mentions that Becky’s mom bought her a fancy new car, Swarthmore has a few tricks to inspire her alums to donate. For instance, consider one special alumni mailing: the brochure listing everyone who's given the college money. The message isn’t subtle: “Look, all the cool parents mature college grads are donating to Swarthmore. If you were cool, you’d give too.” The coolness factor is only heightened by the names they give to those donors who meet a certain threshold of contribution: Parrish Pillars, Adirondack Associates, and Garnet Leaders. (Yes, I know, someone dropped the metaphorical alliteration ball on that last one). I can only guess at what perks come with entry into these fabled societies. A personal tour of the secret underground tunnels? A gold card guaranteeing a lifetime of all-you-can-eat Sharples meals? A precious lock of Al Bloom’s hair? A sense of satisfaction at making the world a better place? Whatever they are, judging from the thickness of the brochure, they certainly seem to have worked.

Now, Swarthmore does outdo many teenagers in one important regard: they always remember to thank you when you help them out. Last month I received a letter from Al Bloom himself acknowledging the vast and generous contributions I’d made to the Meaning of Swarthmore campaign. Of course, the most I actually did for that effort was tolerate the construction it caused. Years and years of orange fences and housing crunches so that the school could wow future specs with a swank, multi-floor admissions office! That might not have been what Al was was referring to. But it’s still nice to know that had I given cash to the cause, I would’ve received a kind letter in appreciation. It might not be as nice as them honoring me by, say, building a Swattie Emeritus Performing Arts Center, but it certainly would be a start.

So that’s what you have to look forward to from Swarthmore when you graduate. No more reminders about free pizza at Career Services. No more Reserved Students Digest. Just lots and lots of love and thanks. With only minor strings attached.

Until next time,

Swattie Emeritus

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