Dear Kimberly: How to Survive College Application Season as a Parent

Kimberly McGlonn is back with gentle wisdom to help you navigate life’s tough situations. Have a Q for Kimberly? Fill out the form here and we’ll do our best to feature it in an upcoming column.

Dear Kimberly: As a parent, I’ve often struggled with my kids’ milestones — I cried for hours after dropping my firstborn off at daycare, and could barely sleep for a week before my kid started high school! Now that my oldest is a high school senior, I’m totally overwhelmed by the college application process — the costs, the logistics, the thoughts of what lies ahead. Any guidance? — Parent of a Grad-to-Be 

Dear Parent of a Grad-to-Be,

This one hits super close to home. I, too, have a high school senior going through the college application process! First off, congratulations to you and your kid for making it to the point where the possibility of college is on the horizon. And good on you for recognizing your own anxiety about this moment, because that’s what seems to really be at the heart of your question.

Today’s ridiculously competitive college application process presents unique challenges to parents: On the one hand, there’s the very legitimate stress over the cost of applications ($75 dollars each? Come on!), the pressure of traveling to visit schools, and the anxiety around the cost of attending. On the other hand, there’s the deeper challenge of finding the balance between being meaningfully supportive and letting your teen figure things out on their own, the challenge of asking yourself how should I show up as a parent?

I want to acknowledge what we rarely talk about: the sheer taxation that the end of any era produces. And when your child is getting ready to move away from you (and perhaps very far away from you, which is my situation), you’re forced to see that the real role of being a standup parent is somehow preparing them to leave you and stand on their own — all while making the home they’ll return to so soft and certain that they yearn for that, too. I’m constantly working on how to hold both of those things with open palms, but it has taken great effort.

I’ve also realized in this process of setting my daughter off into the world that so much of the preparation came before this moment of the actual “surrender.” It came the first time I dropped her off at kindergarten (I, too, cried in my car); there was another small ripple when she transitioned to middle school, and another wave when she moved into that 9th grade experience — and now, of course, during this time sending her off in pursuit of her own dream. But here’s what I wish we could turn our attention towards in moments like this: That in every stage of this particular transition, there’s a chance, an invitation, for us to get to really know who we’ve raised.

Once I set aside the tensions of how’s the money gonna work out and how am I going to figure out you getting home or me getting to you in case of an emergency, I’ve learned what my daughter has learned about herself. I’ve learned what experiences have been most important to her. I’ve learned that she has come to value experiences more than things. I’ve learned that she is very clear on what her dreams are. And I’ve learned that she is capable of getting complex things across the finish line.

I think the saddest thing about this process is what it asks of kids. But you’re right that it asks something of us, too, as parents. It asks that we surrender our sense of control. It asks that we fully empower our people, our children, to discover and listen to their own compass, which is an incredible skill for life. And it asks us to stand in a really unique solidarity with their vision for their life. And if we can focus on that, there’s beauty in those things. There is another season to figure out the money, the logistics — but that’s not the one that we stand in when we’re in application season. That’s something for another day, for a future self.

And so I think the hope is to be in the beautiful now of listening to what calls them, to what draws them, to what their takeaways have been and to meet our kids in their half-formed, young adult selves. And to be present with that. This is an opportunity that our generation didn’t necessarily get with our parents — everything was different then — but that doesn’t mean we can’t have it with our kids.

As for watching our kids get rejected from their supposed “dream schools”?

I believe that as parents we have to figure out how to help our children to see that positive possibilities always emerge, even in the face of profound disappointment. This gives us a chance to help them process not getting what they think they want or think they deserve. We can promote this by reminding them that in every single environment, there is something that is uniquely available to them. That’s a worldview that has brought me a lot of comfort when my initial expectations weren’t met. You can support them by helping them recognize that life is a bit of a choose-your-own adventure with many paths, doors, and windows. With this mindset they’re less likely to feel like they’re backed into a corner where there’s no other option for them. Instead, in every room, on every campus, there’s a path for them to make the most of. I think this is something we all need to be reminded of. It’s definitely been an anchor philosophy for me.

Lastly, remember too that once your kid goes off into the wide, wild world, they’re not the only one who gets to spread their wings! Let them inspire you to grow too — to take a class, reconnect with old friends, make time for novel experiences, set new personal goals. Before you know it, your kid will be back for that first visit home, and you can both have experienced what it means to take full advantage of a promising new chapter and maybe even exciting new identities.

With courage & care,
Kimberly