Your Kids Are Fine

It’s been two decades since my husband began his career as a professor at a top tier university in the mid-west. Last year, our family was offered a coveted spot in one of the residential college faculty apartments and now I have a front row seat watching 200 new freshmen flop around adorably every fall. (Freshwoman. Freshperson. First year. Whatever.)

We mostly operate as neighbors to these recently liberated New Adults. We are friendly and welcoming, but we make it clear in every way possible that we don’t actually care what they’re up to. Well, we care …but we’re not going to stand in the way of whatever freak flag they want to fly.

The drama of the August drop-off, which may still be still fresh in your mind, subsides and we usually settle into a polite and cordial relationship with the students by mid-September. They learn quickly that we’re not interested in being their parents, and they gradually become less like feral kittens and more like semi-interested, lukewarm cats.

They are nice to our teen-aged kids and chatty with us when they’ve had enough sleep. They gratefully devour the freshly baked cookies we occasionally leave in the common room like they’ve never tasted sugar.

They go totally bonkers, drop down on all fours and speak in tongues every time they encounter our dog. But they don’t hang out with us a lot because…