So like with most celebrity-tinged news stories, even if you wanted to, you probably couldn’t avoid the headlines earlier this week about how federal prosecutors busted a college admission cheating ring.
And because “journalists” and “news” sites are more interested in getting clicks and page views than reporting the actual news, the salacious stories and the celebrity names were plastered across all media platforms and search-engine-optimized over the past few days for maximum attention. Which is how we got the current denizen of the White House—but that’s another story for another day, say like in 50 years when they look back and laugh at us like we look back and laugh at those who used to believe the Earth was flat …
Oh wait. Never mind.
Anywhoo … the ultimate lesson here (I hope!) is that helping your kids to cheat isn’t helping them at all. Really, you’re just creating a vicious cycle of failure. I mean, if you help them get into a prestigious college, then you’re also going to have to help them stay in that prestigious college, which means all sorts of additional homework and testing shenanigans.
And then if you somehow do get them through to graduation, and their degree earns an elite-type job with a top company, how long do you think they’re going to last at that before their incompetence becomes apparent? Lies just beget more lies, and before you know it, you’re trapped on a treadmill of prevarication.
Bottom line: Cheating is just unsustainable, you know, unless you’re a certain team from the Boston area …. Or as I always tell my kids: Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.
Anwhoo 2: electric boogaloo … as a parent myself with one son in college and a second one who is a high school senior and has already gotten accepted to (HUMBLEBRAG ALERT!) seven institutions of higher edumakation—without cheating, I’m here to help. (As always!)
It’s too late to save the celebs (and their seemingly unappreciative offspring) nailed by the feds. (The majority of the super rich know they only have to buy a building at their alma mater to get their kids admitted.) So for those of you with modest means and offspring considering the pursuit of a baccalaureate degree, here is a little college entrance exam to make sense of the process from the parental viewpoint.
S0, sharpen your No. 2 pencils, down a few 5-Hour Energy shots and put on your oval-filling galoshes—it’s time for the 2019 rayality aptitude test, or the R-A-T!
(Hmm … might need to work on that acronym a bit)
1. Your child expresses a desire to NOT go to college, so you:
a. patiently explain that a career as a social media influencer isn’t one that you understand so it clearly can’t be a real thing.
b. discreetly search the intrawebz to find the porn they’ve already made and from which they think they can make a career. (Not that there’s anything wrong with it—just as long as it’s someone else’s kid.)
c. nod in agreement and tell them that you support their choice … once they turn 21, so get the hell back to your laptop and finish that damned admissions essay (that you’re going to re-write for them anyway).
d. wait until you’re done laughing and then tell them to get the hell back to your laptop and finish that damned admissions essay (that you’re going to re-write for them anyway).
e. tell them that “fat, drunk and stupid is no way to go through life,” and send their name to the closest military recruiter.
2. Your child doesn’t seem to have the best high school grades, so you:
a. tell them to buckle down, focus, and study hard … and when you’re both done laughing, figure out how to get them into easier classes such as “Smiling 101,” “The Basics of Breathing,” or “The History of the Cha-Cha Slide.”
b. promise to pay them for every point they raise their average … and when you’re both done laughing, hire a tutor who carries their own shock paddles for, uh, proper encouragement.
c. try to augment other areas of their application by involving them with a slew of altruistic extracurricular activities or philanthropic organizations—such as the Helping Hands Monkey Helpers or the 501st Legion.
d. pray the stupid away … because that has a long history of success. Or turn to witchcraft, voodoo, satanic worship or scientology—you know, whatever deity you think actually gives a crap about your first-world problem.
e. sell them on the darkweb while you can still get some sort of significant return on your investment, and then go make another one (as long as you haven’t lost the recipe).
3. Your child doesn’t seem to have the proper extracurricular activities that might interest a top-flight school, so you:
a. tell them to buckle down, focus and work hard … and when you’re both done laughing, have them learn to juggle because it’s an unusual skill that might catch a recruiter’s eye—and it’ll also be useful in their “fallback” career hosting kiddie parties at Chuck E. Cheese.
b. have them focus on video games as colleges now give scholarships to esport competitors.
c. get them develop improper extracurricular activities to go against the grain and stand out. May I suggest astroturfing?
d. keep them healthy because they still haven’t worked out all the kinks of growing organs in labs and with diabetes still on the rise, healthy kidneys allegedly can fetch $260,000 on the black market. (Lungs net even more—$272,000—and most people have a spare one.) So rather than laying out six figures for college, you can collect that and help some unfortunate souls in the process. A win all around!
e. teach them to weld as it’s another unusual skill and welders continue to be in demand.
4. Your child has poor conversational and interpersonal skills, so you:
a. have them take improv comedy classes so even if they tank the college interview, they can exist at a level just above “starving to death” on the improv comedy circuit.
b. try engaging them in an actual one-on-one conversation on occasion, such as when your phone is updating and there’s absolutely no other device you can use to check how many likes you got for your most recent selfie at the organic yarn store.
c. shrug and mumble something about them figuring it out on their own, hopefully. Eventually. Like, probably, right? I mean, who talks to anyone else any more—only bedding store sales people, Jehovah Witnesses, and creepers.
d. ply them with a case of Java Monster, wait until the veins start popping on their forehead and then send them into the college interview room with a hidden GoPro knowing that whatever happens, at least it’ll be entertaining so better to record it and hope they can turn going viral into college admission. Or fame and fortune. Or something.
e. give them $5 American to “accidentally” drop on the admissions officer’s desk at the proper moment.
5. Speaking of bribes, you think that your child’s only hope to college admission may be some sort of alternate path, so you:
a. see if the local university is hiring janitors and hope your child can Good Will Hunting their way in.
b. show up on campus move-in day, insist the paperwork is “at the main office place,” slide your kid into a dorm, a la The Secret of My Success, and hope they find their way to a degree.
c. get a job at a higher ed institution where children of employees are guaranteed admittance. With the scandal this post is based on, there are going to be lots of openings—particularly in athletic departments and coaching ranks—so get that resume ready!
d. realize that barber college is still college and not everyone needs a Bachelor’s degree to succeed—which is perfectly fine and seemingly forgotten. In fact, becoming a skilled trade worker can be much more lucrative than being a college graduate, and without all the soul-crushing debt.
e. do some research and discover the truth: college enrollment is way down and dropping. So if your child has half a brain (fingers crossed!), they’re probably going to get into multiple schools, including at least one they like and will help them be successful if they want to be, so don’t sweat any of this.
Time! Put down your pencils, pass your work to the front of the class and … just use your freakin’ head, people.