Dear Goizuetta B-School,
Hello. Do you remember me? Yes, it is me—The College. I am just checking in. How are you doing? I really hope all is okay, because, well, I am a little worried. I haven’t heard from you in quite some time. I see you from afar, your buildings still look nice and I must say, you always keep your quad so well groomed.
Admittingly so, I am writing to you with sadness. I feel that you have forgotten about me. It only makes me upset because you seem to have neglected all that I have done for you—no thanks, no appreciation. I mean, you could at least give me a sip of your keg and a nibble of your eggs every so often.
This letter may seem like it is from a dark place, but really, it’s not (just a shadowed one with dim lighting). I am just questioning your integrity. I thought our relationship was a two-way street, but this has proven to be false. Do you not realize that your kids must apply to me first—before they ever get to you? And yes, sometimes you are the light at the end of the tunnel, giving those whom you invite a warm embrace. But what about the others? Have you ever once thanked me for wiping the tears of those you turned away?
Now, okay. Maybe I am little jealous and upset. But it is only because you didn’t invite me on your ski trip. An extended invitation would have been nice—I have excellent form and speed, so it’s not like I would have embarrassed you or anything. My kids do work just as hard (I mean, Methods papers anyone?) and would like an excuse to get out of PE for the semester.
I would just like to remind you that I helped raise all of your children. They would not be gallivanting through your pathways, loving in your arms, without my initial guidance. I helped prepare them. Gave them a home. Gave them a place to turn to. We do take our kids on field trips—Shakespeare plays, museums, Jimmy Carter speeches—but do we get to give them Alon’s sandwiches? No. You guys may be top five in the country, but that number would be in question if there was no top 20 school to latch onto. I mean, really. Did the English Department print t-shirt’s when they were voted number one by the U.S.A Today? Well in case you didn’t notice, no, THEY DID NOT!
I just think that maybe, just maybe, you have looked over us and all that we do. We send our kids to do great things too—win Pulitzer Prizes, discover new lands, write novels, become politicians. It would just be nice if you shed some light on us every once in a while. I mean, we all hear about every B-law test and Marketing exam, but it does not mean they are any harder than our 20 page research papers or 18th Century Literature exams. I mean, we all know that the kids have a vault of exams floating around campus. And why shouldn’t we be upset over the excessive printing money that is stashed on your I.D. cards? Again, we are the ones printing research papers that didn’t involve two other people (i.e. excessive use of group projects).
Between the private sections in the libraries and the automatic no-class on Fridays rule, we just think you have become a little, um, pretentious. I am not trying to undermine the work you do–we ALL know how much work you have ALL the time. Frankly, you have made it clear how great you are. But I guess what I am trying to say is you have driven a knife through our relationship and taken all the glory. Please just recognize me once in a while. Because let’s get real here… there is no you without me.
Sincerely & Regretfully,
The College