I'm not sure who will be happier in a few months, my daughter who graduates, her mother who has been mired under a mountain of forms, or our poor post people who have hauled the correspondence between every college and university in the country and our little weather-beaten mail receptacle.
She wanted to explore every option, drive down every avenue, and not content simply to leave no stone unturned, she had to move whole mountains in her quest for ... drum roll ... 'THE PERFECT SCHOOL'.
It may surprise you to know that either there isn't one, or she's incredibly picky.
The criteria ranges from the all important course offerings to the even more important size of the dorm room. The college must have its own social life, as well as being close enough to a shopping mecca. Mecca is defined as something extremely more than WalMart but somewhat less than the Mall of America. The rating for 'quality of life' and 'student happiness' must be in the 90's. It must be bigger than this but smaller than that.
And, there must be little partying.
Now...college life has vastly changed since I was a fledgling freshman, but something tells me that this is one faction of that life that, if anything, has grown over the years. Party is synonymous with college. The two words could blend as one in their own little niche of Webster's Unabridged.
I've tried to tell her that you can find your own little space on campus where there are others who feel less inclined to do beer bombs as a daily vitamin and mineral supplement. But, for some reason she feels that she may be the only non-drinker/smoker/virgin *gasp* in all of America. But, really, there was only one college we visited with 'police line do not cross' tape around the frat house. Oh, and that one really enthusiastic tour guide at the other college whose entire top shelf of her dorm room closet was a bartender's dream....
So, some really decent institutes of higher learning have been relegated to the trash can by virtue of their party hardy status.
Along with the scholarships with which they enticed her.
Ouch!
This leads me to the pile of papers I see before me, the ones I'm ignoring even now as I type these thoughts, as I look about me for anything to delay this arduous task.
Financial Aid! Maddening stuff, the lot of it!
The power of 'the net' has made life a little easier in this entire process. Child dearest has spent countless hours researching schools, writing for information, talking with students on campus, using online services to prepare for the SAT testing, even submitting applications via computer.
Mom has used the net to file electronically the FAFSA (Free Application for Federal Student Aid) and the CSS (College Scholarship Service - notice the lack of the word 'free' here...it's mandatory but it costs). Additionally by the power of networking these same forms are magically reproduced and sent to all the colleges we request to receive this information.
As you click 'Send' for the very last time you sit back, sigh, and silently breathe your "thank goodness that's done" to the powers that be, the great gods of scholarships, the goddesses of aid.
It's not long before each college in turn sends you pieces of paper asking you to take pen in hand and write once again these same facts and figures. Do they not trust the electronically submitted material? Or do they not trust me, hoping to catch me in a financial miscalculation?
Then they want 'supplemental information'. This so far has been a rewrite as well. Really truly, I still have the same name, I still AM her mother, she still IS my daughter, and our place of residence has not changed in the last week and a half.
I'm getting an inkling that perhaps some of the administrative costs could be quite lessened if Frick knew what Frack was doing.
One of the colleges needed my financial information the first week of January, long before we received any income or bank statements. So, they allow you to file estimated, then amend it when you receive the actual earnings figures. I live and breathe for the pleasure of doing our tax forms twice, all for the sake of a two week span of time.
And they are so damned nosy! They want to know what you paid for your home, and what it's worth now, and how much you owe and if you don't owe any, why not? Do they want what the assessment office claims it's worth, the amount I'm appealing? Or what the insurance office says it's worth to lessen the amount they must cough up after spontaneous combustion ignites these reams of college papers? Or perhaps what the bank says it's worth if I wanted to borrow money for college? Or what the realtor says it's worth if I want to sell it? And are they going to require me to sell it to buy her diploma?
I'm trying to figure out if we get more money if single. They seem awfully interested in your state of marriage, I expect any day now to be asked how often we... ah well ... if we can get more aid, perhaps an amicable split would be productive. "Yes your honor, we are seeking a divorce on the grounds of financial assistance"...
And if they ask how old I am ONE MORE TIME....(what...are they thinking life insurance folks???)
But, it's paying off, quite literally. The "we are pleased to inform you" letters are coming in, some with attached "we are proud to award you our most prestigious merit scholarship".
And attached is the notation..."However this is contingent upon receiving the following information...attached is a form for your convenience"
Okay so SHE doesn't want to party...well, I NEED to!
Whatever happened to the Paperwork Reduction Act? Buried under a pile of paper no doubt.