Yesterday I wrote that I have a new writer’s crush on Drew Magary who wrote this gem about parents (I’m guessing mostly mothers…) who are worried about their daughters getting into the right sorority.
I don’t know much about sororities. When I went to college the first time, right after high school, I had no interest in sororities. Mostly, I was interested in fraternities! The college I eventually graduated from with my degrees had no sorority system. At least I wasn’t aware of any. As a returning adult student I didn’t have time for sororities. I had to do things like work full time and be married.
I find it appalling that mothers have nothing better to do with their time that stress over Muffy getting into the right sorority. I find it appalling that these mothers are hiring coaches to help their daughters get into sororities. I thought the days of getting your MRS degree in college passed around the time Where The Boys Are debuted.
My favorite part of Magary’s articles is this:
Well, it’s your goddamn fault. Standing there over your kid’s shoulder during the entire process essentially ruins any chance they have of coming to understand social rejection in a mature, dignified manner. You can’t shield kids from rejection forever, and trying to do so only hinders their progress. Furthermore, hiring a fucking coach to help your kid with the rush puts even more pressure on them to not fuck it all up. A competent parent would hear about the “misfortunes” of other failed rushees and decide to sit down with their daughter and have an open discussion about the pros and cons of trying to join a sorority. A STUPID parent takes those horror stories and is like, “Well, I’m not letting THAT happen to mah little Hilly! We’re hirin’ a Rushcrone!”
He points out that this is the generation “that’s been told by their parents that they can achieve nothing on their own.” Parents have prepped their kids for everything: little league pitching coaches, SAT and ACT prep classes out the wazoo, walking them the single block to school, standing in line with them, hovering in the classroom as a volunteer…
Good God, it’s amazing our children remember to breathe on their own!
I like to think that if I had raised girls instead of boys that I wouldn’t have fallen into the popularity trap with little Gigi. She would have been the coolest, most aloof girl ever. Like the daughter on Suburgatory. Not that I’ve thought about it a lot!
Now I only hope and pray that my sons never encounter the spawn of these parents. Maybe it was a really good thing they didn’t go south for college…