Don't Pull the Wool Over Mom's Eyes

This morning, don't take your parents to see Marty Feldstein lecture in Harvard Hall. Instead, take them to an overcrowded section in Sever. Try to find a core class being taught by a befuddled TF with no particular expertise in the subject matter. Ask questions he can't answer. Enjoy as the discussion circles endlessly while self-important idiots pontificate in search of participation points. Afterwards, wait in line for a fly-by.

Tonight, for dinner, don't go to Legal Seafoods. Take your parents to Tommy's. But don't go straight there. First, stop at the dining hall, show them the glistening, sauteed steak tips and then head over for a slice. After Mom and Dad guzzle down their grease-soaked nourishment, go back, to your poorly lit dorm room. Sit around in the gloom for a couple of hours discussing what to do with the rest of the evening. At around 10 o'clock, after "Nash Bridges" is over, hit the Grille. Buy Dad a pitcher of Red Dog and maybe play a little trivia.

Next stop: Grafton. Order your Mom a fancy $12 mixed drink, Schmooze with he B-school elite. To cap off the evening, take the whole family to your final club of choice. If you've got a sister, make sure she's appropriately attired--I recommend tight and revealing. Once the whole clan is sufficiently sloshed, stumble back onto the streets of Gambridge, wander back to your dorm room, wake up all your roommates, and pass out on the floor. In the morning, when their hangovers wear off, your parents will thank you. You will have treated them to a genuine Harvard experience, and what is the purpose of Junior Parents Weekend if not to provide Mom and Dad with a glimpse at everyday life here in Cambridge.

Of course, the college would have you believe that the purpose of the weekend is quite different. A brochure mailed out by the Harvard-Radcliffe Parents Association enthusiastically advertises a program of illuminating lectures, including such gems as "An Introduction to the Harvard College Library." The House Masters have all graciously decided to host receptions this afternoon. There will be panel discussions about career options and thesis writing. In short, this weekend, Harvard will miraculously transform itself into an academic Shangri-La. All of its vast resources will be laid at your feet, and the administration would like your parents to lap it all up so that they go home satisfied, and cheerfully scrawl out another tuition check.

Is such a deception really fair? And what of our complicity? Why do so many of us insist on showing our parents only the superficial gloss? We've scanned today's class schedule searching for marquee professors, we'll proudly show-off the magisterial interior of Sanders Theatre, and we’ll probably even pretend that our House Masters know our names. What we should do is have our parents sit with us for an hour while we churn out a senseless response paper. That would give them a clearer picture.

Granted, much of our behavior this weekend will be well-intentioned. Our parents have traveled great distances to be here, and naturally, we want to show them a good time. But this isn't the only occasion on which this campus shifts into hard-sell mode, nor will this weekend bear witness to the grossest distortions. The worst outbreak of irrational exuberance occurs annually on Pre-Frosh Weekend, when we all collectively conspire to convince unsuspecting high schoolers that the Yard is a warm, festive place. There is just something about the presence of outsiders that inspires even Harvard's greatest detractors to put on a happy face.

One explanation for this phenomenon is that we simply don't want to air all of our dirty laundry. Unless they're part of the Harvard family, better they shouldn't know that there's no advising system to speak of. More importantly, we recognize that the weight of our diplomas rests on Harvard's reputation in the outside world. Unless we cooperate every year to attract a new crop of the best and brightest, that reputation and consequently our own standing will suffer. In the case of the our parents, we just want them to feel that the great cost of our education has been worth it. If we took them to sit in on an Expos section, they might start to wonder.

Unfortunately, the rosy portrait that we and the University pain has its price--especially, as is the case this weekend when the targets of the con are parents. We miss an extraordinary opportunity to exert pressure for change. Through the eyes of an administrator, angry students are one thing, angry parents another. Imagine if hundreds of furious mothers descended on Dean Knowels' office demanding core reform. What might happen if fathers started knocking on President Rudenstine's door wondering why all the junior faculty were leaving?

So, this afternoon, before you attend the official welcoming by Dean Lewis, give your parents a tour of Thayer's basement. Show them the luxurious office-space that the College provides student groups. Then, when the Dean's speech is over, your parents might be inclined to ask a few questions.

Noah D. Oppenheim '00 is a social studies concentrator in Adams House. His column appears on alternate Fridays.