We have barely begun and I have already had enough. We are talking college tours here. The season has commenced, my daughter is a high-school junior and, well, here we go again—lacing up for another amble around another campus, members of an endless string of silent, sullen parades seen across America these days, all led by a backward-walking guide who’s making rehearsed gestures to the left and right.
The campuses are all beautiful, if a bit more barren than leafy in this early spring season. The students—both on the tours and already in college, scurrying along the paths, spilling coffee on their way to class—are appealing too, brimming with the promise of fresh concepts and untested theories and the hope of a better collective future.
The problem is the tours themselves, which have degenerated into such boilerplate that it is difficult, and sometimes almost impossible, to distinguish one school from another. No matter the campus or state, the tour guides seem to be playing musical chairs with clichés:
“We have a really ambitious plan to be carbon neutral by 2030.”
“Our ethos here tends to be work hard and play hard.”
“There is the dining hall, where each week farmers come in to talk to us in detail about where our local food comes from.”
“That’s the library! It’s open 24 hours during study days!”