Now that the excitement is largely over, I reflected today on the other fun side of undergraduate admissions: dealing with parents doing the work of their children. Sometimes these parents are call on a student’s behalf because they mistakenly assume our phone lines shut down before their kids get home from school (we’re open late). Quite often, however, they’re just carrying Junior on their back, and they’re usually jerks about it, too.

We get yelled at, cajoled, whined to, yelled at, hectored, and lectured. They demand access to their child’s computing account, even after we inform them that federal law prohibits it. Hear me, O helicopter parents: it doesn’t matter that you write the checks! You are now dealing with The Man, not your local high school. Do you really think university staffers are going to risk losing their jobs just because your kid can’t be bothered to pick up the phone?

It’s not uncommon for a parent to call in and, upon being told that we can only discuss account information with the student, say “oh, well they’re right here, let me put them on the phone”. I mean, what? Hello? Your kid was right there all along and you’re still doing the work? Were they not able to talk on the phone because they were nursing at your teat? We want to help, and we will help, but we have to help them, not you. This is no longer about you. This is their onramp to the Big Scary Road of adulthood; let them drive for once. You’re not doing them any favors.