Learning and Legacy

I know the whole college admissions scandal seems almost passé after the wild week with Instagram’s shut down and New Zealand’s terrible shooting, but can we go back there for a second?

It’s been a weird ten days or so for this girl from the nineties who would literally run home from playing outside to watch Full House. Trying to picture “Aunt Becky” as a criminal has been confusing. Plus, the fact that the whole investigation is called “Operation Varsity Blues” is so strange… and, really makes me want to watch that movie.

And, the dollar amounts these parents paid to get their kids into a “elite” college is outrageous.

1.5 million?

Insert facepalm emoji here.

All I can think is “Why?!”

I totally get the idea of wanting the best for your kids.

And, I will take a moment to totally check my privilege here, too.

I was raised by parents who both had post-graduate degrees. Education, college in particular, was important. I was given many advantages such as SAT prep classes and a whole spring break dedicated to college visits. Both dollars and my parents were invested in the whole process. My mom did extensive research on websites like Princeton Review, giving me ideas of schools that were a stretch or safe based on my scores, activities, abilities, and grades.

One of those stretch schools was Notre Dame, my dad’s alma mater. My grades, like many of the accused, were at the lower end of what they admitted. The conversation about Notre Dame would sometimes shift to how my legacy status of an active, giving alumni might get me over the hump and into the university.

I wasn’t a complete ND fanatic. It wasn’t a “Dream School” for me. But, really, no where was. And, I liked the idea of Notre Dame. The football games, the pretty campus and I loved to laugh at my dad’s stories about his time on there. He was proud of his school and; while I wouldn’t call it “pressure,” it was clear he would have been so happy- so proud- for his daughter to attend the university too.

He even had me tag along to the Columbus Alumni Club’s dinner for admitted seniors… when I was a junior.

We recently recalled this night and were in agreement that we both walked away from the evening feeling strange.

That night, it became clear that Notre Dame was not the right fit for me. We realized that we both liked Notre Dame for me because of the look of it. We liked it for the legacy factor. Because it was a fun, beautiful place. We liked it for the brand of Notre Dame.

At that dinner in 2004, Notre Dame became real. I could see who my peers would be. I tried to imagine myself there, just one class behind them. In those visions I saw myself struggling. Always busting my butt for C’s, while all around me, my peers managed the workload better. (And, in full disclosure, the visions also included relentless grey, cold weather.)

Worse, amid the crowd of excited incoming students, I saw myself getting in because of my dad.

That was the only reason I was there that night and that might be the reason why I would get into the school. I felt like an imposter. I couldn’t imagine feeling that way for four years. I knew enough about the applying and getting admitted to college thing to know that getting into Notre Dame was an accomplishment. These students were being celebrated for that feat that evening. I couldn’t imagine taking the place of someone else who really wanted- and deserved- to be there.

I had this self-awareness, perhaps even compassion, and, eventually, the courage to tell my dad that I wouldn’t even be applying to the school. His school. Notre Dame.

My fear was that he would see not even trying to get in as a disappointment. But, he understood. He saw it that night too. Notre Dame wasn’t right for me.

He would get his legacy four years later when my sister- far more academically gifted than me- enrolled in the class of 2013. But, even with Notre Dame’s prestige across the globe and the story of legacy, he didn’t put any more weight or pride on Kerry’s choice, experience or degree than mine. Just last week, as the news broke, he texted us saying what a joy it was to watch us blossom into our talents naturally and in different ways.

Maybe wanting the “best” for our children, should be rephrased to wanting the best… for them.

There is a lot of talk right now on Personal Branding. Honestly, it’s not all bad. But, it’s also not all good.

I love people finding their story and voice. And, I think the work in looking at yourself and what you would want to be said about you when you are not around- as personal branding is defined- is good work. Knowing what you believe and what you stand for is great. This builds self awareness, confidence, conviction and more.

However, it still has it’s flaws. Social media is basically personal branding. It’s what you want the world to see. So, it’s often lacking in imperfection, truth, and genuine emotions as we hide them in fear of being too weird, too messy, or full of- perceived- mistakes.

I can’t help but wonder if some of these parents got too wrapped up in “the brand.” The brand of that prestigious university, and also, their own “brand.”

They felt they are the kind of person who raises children that would attend a certain type of university. Their children had to fit into their own brand of “elite,” “accomplished,” “innovative,” “scholarly,” whatever.

How dangerous.

One of the coolest and strangest things about having kids is their humanity. They are their own little person. A whole person. With good days and bad days. With spunk, empathy, flaws and strengths.

Your children are not things that build your brand story.

They are not an accessory.

The best, most curated, perfectly-crafted pieces of your kid is not your identity.

You and your child are a part of each other’s story. And, the best stories are messy. They have up’s and downs. Win’s and losses.

And, both of you have your own identities.

But, even identities are a little limiting and even, at times, destructive.

So instead, remember that you, your child, you spouse, every one of us is a whole person.

Not a thing. Not a product or an accessory.

But, rather a human.

A messy, powerful, strange, mistake making, learning, seeking, celebratory, fluid, changing, awesome human.

Claim all of this as your brand. Teach your children to do the same.

What a legacy that would be.