Hot Listing: Clark University

I didn’t even go here, and yet, somehow: I always end up back here. 

My introduction to Clark University started rather young. I was born up the street, and my father was once a mover and shaker in this burg. His professional life connected him to Clark and its leaders - and while he did this or that in nearby offices, I eagerly toddled around this green in my favorite patchwork OshKosh overalls and Miss Piggy t-shirt.

Later, I went to packed college fairs in the gym and rolled my eyes as my classmates gratuitously fawned over various reps. Multiple people in my life wanted me to go to college here - but I vetoed that. I needed bigger - and considerably further from home. After all, what college student wants to bump into their dad while browsing Stop & Shop’s selection of cheap champagne on a Thursday morning? I definitely did not.

But rather ironically, I have spent much time worshiping at this altar in my subsequent life as a college counselor. I’ve visited Clark about seven times in the last dozen years. I’ve brought new staff here on kitschy field trips as part of their onboarding. I’ve sent some of the most wonderful young people I’ve ever met to college here. And I’ve had brilliant friends who have worked here.

So one frosty day last week, I swathed myself in two-ply cashmere, hopped in my Mini, and came back to Clark. To be honest, I was overcome by envy: many juniors and their families are venturing out for the first time into the world of campus visits. They are crucial to any college search. And endlessly fun.

Per usual, my time at Clark dazzled. First, a fabulous information session wIth top-shelf talent that compellingly telegraphed the school’s identity and ethos. Then came an equally fabulous tour with a hip, fun and particularly insightful Geography major named Maire (pronounced Mara). She had the 411 on everything from queer affinity groups to the required capstone project. Definitely a quintessential “Clarkie.” All totaled, my visit was a fabulous reminder of the unrivaled power of place - and of tactile, human experience - in the college search process. 

I could go on and on. But I won’t. Instead, I will, for the first time, use a listicle (rueful apologies to all of my Newhouse professors who are now likely to spit on me in public). 

Three big reasons to love Clark:

1. Killer academics. Many of my students have come back raving about the classroom experience and intellectual culture here - not to mention: they’ve all said how rigorous it is (I think one kid described it as an “ass kick,” but in the great, Barry’s Bootcamp way). Access to brilliant faculty is assured - connections that often parlay themselves into fruitful mentorship relationships and undergraduate research opportunities. And the research at Clark has always been phenomenal - the Pill was discovered here.

2. Civic impact. Worcester is a great city - with both opportunities and challenges. Clark has leaned into both. This is no haughty ivory tower. They’ve invested. They’ve connected. They’ve embraced. The students genuinely care about the community, and work heartily and purposely to enhance it. And it enhances them - and Clark - in return. 

3. It’s an incredible value. The yearly cost of attendance here is lower than many of its peer institutions - by as much as 20% per year. Over four years, that's a ton of money. They also have robust need-based financial aid, and some of the most generous merit-based scholarships in the business. They also pioneered a groundbreaking offering where you can opt to attend for a fifth year (very often with a full tuition scholarship) - and then you earn a Master’s Degree, too. I mean, hello? Is this thing on? 

And there are many more laudable qualities to celebrate.

But because I can’t help myself, I will give you one more. A bonus, because I like you. 

Here it is: I always leave my visits to Clark feeling genuinly excited by possibility. I feel happy. I feel full. It has a certain positive energy, a certain magic that just arrives organically. And it embraces you, elevates you, charges you, surprises you. Like when you are at Coachella and Beyonce brings Kelly and Michelle on stage for a hot blast of Lose My Breath. 

I think it's mostly because of the people I always seem to meet here. Kind. Good. Dynamic. Aware. Curious. Bright. Engaged. Unpretentious. Fun. Poppy. Interesting. Together. Capital P People. Great people to learn with, work with, be friends with. 

Great people to help you form your formative years. And I think you will find, as you go through life, that this is the best value of them all.

The Likely Dance

At this time of year, my brain is a jukebox stuck on a single track: The Safety Dance.

For those who may not be aware, the song dates back to 1982 and is by a Canadian synth-pop band called Men Without Hats. It helped drive the musical revolution known as New Wave, and was a smash hit all over the world. I guarantee your mom danced to it in high school with her ridiculously teased hair and white Keds. The bizarre, ultra camp video made zero sense - but it still played on blast on MTV for the rest of the ‘80s, and it happily populates some of my first sensory memories.

In my adult years, I’ve danced to it at glamorous Westside Bar Mitzvahs, sweated to it at hot spin classes, and grocery shopped to it as its beat pulsed down the aisles of Market Basket. I’m even listening to it now, and it's still genuinely delicious.

But as much as I adore the song, the word safety itself has occupied a stormy place in my professional lexicon. In a college search, a safety is defined as a college to which a student has a very high chance of being admitted. I even remember my own high school counselor explaining this concept to me in the fall of 1997, as I lounged in her office in a fabulous argyle sweater vest from J. Crew and my moss green Birkenstocks.

Safety as a concept is a great thing, and a necessary - dare I say critical - element of any college search and any life. But I’m a strict devotee of semantics - and using this particular word in this context just doesn’t sit well with me.

Put it down to experience. I have found that its use, for one reason or another, can unwittingly cause a student to take their safeties for granted. They start to view them as a fait accompli. This can lead to an undeserved devaluation of these schools based on the sheer fact that they can get in. Alarmingly, it can encourage an unfortunate overreliance on quantitative measures of selectivity in this process - instead of what matters most: fit.

I have also found that its use can often be accompanied by blatant and eye roll-inducing snobbishness. When I was an admission officer at Tufts, the entitled and charmless father of a young woman we’d waitlisted howled at me in anger and confusion because she hadn’t been admitted. Sporting an unforgettable, pitch perfect Long Island accent, he went on to brazenly detail his position: “Everyone knows that Tufts is merely a second tier safety school for those hoping to attend Brown.”

Double rude. But never you fear: I swifty and intently corrected his thinking with guile and professionalism reminiscent of Alexis Carrington - all while attending to a chipped nail with the Bobbi Brown manicure set I kept next to my phone. Needless to say, his daughter was not admitted from the waiting list.

So you get it: I don’t use safety, and have consistently asked my students and parents not to use it either - for their sake, as well as my own.

Instead, I use likely. Say it with me: likely. That’s better.

So now, in reference to your likely schools. You need to pause at this time of year and look at your finalized college list and ask yourself the following questions:

1.) Are all of my likely schools a good fit for me?

2.) Would I be happy to attend any and all of my likely schools?

And you have to be honest with yourself. Brassy gay uncle honest.

If you answer no or maybe to one or both of these questions, you have a big problem. You’ll either need other likely schools, or, at the very least, you will need to extend much more time, energy and love to the ones you already have.

The good news for you is that it’s definitely not too late to course correct - it’s admittedly the 11th hour - but it's still not too late.

So do this last little bit of heavy lifting. And I guarantee that we'll all sleep, and dance, better this winter. And come spring: “everything’ll work out right.”