<p>Emptynester, thanks for the question, “why do it” to which the only logical answer based on this thread is “god only knows”.</p>
<p>I lived in a city in the Midwest; I was an alum of an East coast college which I loved; although I was not from the prep school, “do you summer in Newport or Kennebunkport” set, I had a fantastic college experience and it broadened my horizons in every possible way- intellectual, artistic, social, religious.</p>
<p>So living far away from the college, and in a region where the college was working hard to bolster its representation, I really felt that I was not only doing something nice for them but doing something really special for the kids in the area. There were other alums working on events to build awareness, professionals from the U working with guidance counselors and principals to identify kids who might be interested, and even parents of the few kids who were enrolled who were happy to host coffees, info sessions, etc.</p>
<p>My work/home schedule didn’t permit me to do these things- unfortunately. The one thing I felt I could contribute was interviewing- which the admissions office made clear could be done at my convenience, based on my constraints and my schedule. Obviously I wasn’t to make any kid do an interview at midnight or take expensive cab rides just to make my life easier, but alumni interviewing was considered a really good thing to do for prospective students and their families. Especially if you didn’t have a lot of time on weekends to do the coffees, the meet and greets, etc. Interviews could be done in the evening after work, in the privacy of your own home (nice for me! No need to pay the sitter extra to stay late or worry if my spouse would be in town.)</p>
<p>But in retrospect, all those kids I met in all those years- many of whom had been urged to apply to my college by a guidance counselor but in fact had never actually met someone who went to my college-- turns out I was making them uncomfortable. The kids I met had gone through the literature and seen the pictures and had read the PR and still they worried that the school was primarily for Rockefellers (the name on the Humanities library) and their ilk. So meeting me in my perfectly ordinary living room and hearing my story seemed to me to be a great way to show kids that you didn’t need to be a Rockefeller (or to “summer” in Newport) to fit in.</p>
<p>Hindsight and all that. I am generally not nostalgic when the “old way” passes. I think the multicultural and multiracial and all the multis on college campuses today is so far superior to the old days that it’s painful to hear that people miss the days when Yale was all male or when the only black faces at Princeton were from the kitchen staff.</p>
<p>But to discourage alumni who live in out of the way places from telling their story to prospective high school kids? Sure, the old alma mater won’t exactly fall down the hill when the admisssions office bans interviews anywhere but Starbucks or McDonalds. But make it more inconvenient or harder or more onerous – and suggest that the families that we think are so grateful are actually gritting their teeth because the interviews are so damn painful for them-- well, good-bye interviewers. Why bother. I can write my check for whatever to the alumni fund and another $50 donation to the library every time I hear that a favorite professor has died and then I’ll call it a night.</p>