Six Words Every College Student Needs to Hear, from an Incoming Freshman Mom

I’ll give you a hint: Refrain from: “When I was your age…” Why? Because you may as well be discussing paleoethics or future tripping. Every aspect of the modern kid’s life is so specific to this time.

As a mom of a college-age young man who is applying to college (he’s an 18-year-old who is still catching up from pandemic-induced scholastic and social challenges), the lived experiences I have had are not so helpful to him. I didn’t grow up with AI helping me craft essays (a mixed blessing, believe me) or being exposed to scary programming. I didn’t grow up in fear of not mastering the auramaxxing teen trend or in a world where economic disaster was chomping through the middle class like Ms. Pac Man. (See even my video games were 2-D, not metaverse-realistic).

One life lesson I can share with him and to all kids starting out in college (and this applies to attenuated apprenticeship programs, too): It’s a marathon not a sprint.

This messaging is important because so many kids seem like they’re front-loading all the economic and social pressures, without knowing that they are going to need stamina, time and luck to make college work for them. The economics alone bear this out—since college graduates typically earn 86 percent more than persons with only a high school degree, it makes sense that once you take that student loan money, you had better get that piece of paper saying you graduated. (Because that piece of paper will allow you to get a high-enough paying job to pay back the loan.) However, 57 percent of students who take on debt don’t graduate, and the amount of college loan debt only grows for people who don’t graduate.

Remember, lots of big successes failed early, but they kept going. Oprah Winfrey was fired from her first job as a television anchor. Steven Spielberg was rejected (three times) from the University of Southern California School of Cinematic Arts before they finally let him in. Michael Jordan was cut from his high school basketball team.

So, college kids, you don’t need to ace every test, you just need to keep moving forward. With so much emphasis on mental health, feelings, communication and accommodations for learning differences, all of which I support, I’ve seen that sometimes late teen college kids have missed crucial messaging. It’s analogous to the couple of half-marathons I’ve run—the journey is going to feel painful at times and you are going to want to quit and "Why did I even start this in the first place?!” will be running through your mind. But on the other side of that pain, or after your few-seconds delay from having to stop and tie your shoes, or if you can set aside that discouragement that the guy you are using as a pacer is pulling ahead which means you’re falling behind—on the other side of all that is not only a remarkable sense of accomplishment but also achievement. Look, you started off way back there and look now you’re somewhere else entirely. And you did that.

I’ve seen kids including my son make some big swings—overbooked schedules, committing to pricey four-year degree programs—that they weren’t quite ready for, which they failed at, but adjusted and adapted. (Sometimes, simply by trying a bit later—after all things happening in a teenager’s brain can take time to gel.) Here’s what all college-age parents and kids need to take to heart: the occasional stumble and mishap is part of the race. It’s a feature, not a bug. I’ve come to regard that difficulty along that way is a gift in itself, because in each quiet moment of deciding to take a step forward, you are in a delicious moment of intimacy with yourself. You’re willing yourself forward, when social pressures, pleasure and gravity itself would have you stop and just stay in one place. You’re doing this because you know you’re on a marathon, you agreed to go on the marathon, you understood the marathon would take effort (even if you maybe don’t feel prepared for all this effort) and here’s the important part—even marathons come to an end.

I was struck recently by social media posts celebrating the final finishers of the New York City Marathon, people who took 10+ hours to finish the grueling 26.5-mile race. One of them finished on crutches after her hip “went out” on mile 17; volunteers met her at the finish line with a wheelchair. Here’s the scene, according to the race’s hometown paper:

“Unofficial celebrations of back-of-the-pack runners at the New York marathon started in 2016 with a group of people who showed up with cowbells, signs, glow sticks and their cheering voices for racers who might have otherwise finished in the quiet dark. The race organizers have since built the celebrations into the schedule, also adding a team of 70 volunteers working between Mile 15 and the finish line to offer help and encouragement to the marathon’s final runners.”

I’m far from a snowplow mom, and am decidedly bearish on college-copter parenting, but by God, I love the idea of lighting the way for my kid to finish college, rather than just expecting him to make his way alone through the quiet dark—or consider quitting. First off, though, I need to explain to him that he’s in for the long haul, and there are going to be times he’ll want to quit, but he needs to remember, and pace himself. It’s a marathon, not a sprint.