Clicks for Pics

Here’s some news: your kid’s college drop-off experience wasn’t unique.

Want to know how I know this? A quick scan of social media shows that nearly everyone on earth—no exaggeration—dropped a kid off at college in the last couple of weeks.

And here I thought I was special.

It’s kind of like the ubiquitous “first day of school” pics. Do children actually learn anything in school, or benefit from their teachers’ instruction, if their parents don’t kick off the annual academic experience with a posed, front-step, chalkboard-holding photo on Instagram? It’s an open question.

Don’t get me wrong—I really do enjoy all the photos. Actually, I love them! I make a habit of giving even my most distant online acquaintances an enthusiastic thumbs-up when I see their smiling, backpack-wearing kids.

As I get older (Why do I always seem to start at least one paragraph of every column like this?), I find that I enjoy the happiness of others more and more. It makes me happy, and I’m always looking for ways to be more happy. And the “first day of school” – “I just dropped my kid off at college” pics do a great job of making parents happy—either because they’re bursting with pride or rejoicing at the prospect of a quiet house. Either way, if my friends are happy, I’m happy.

And this year, we kicked it up a notch. As I already mentioned, not only did I have a first day of school pic to share, I had a college drop-off pic, too, and my thumbs are exhausted from all the online “likes” I’ve been throwing around.

Pic of the dorm room. Pic of the smiling roommate. Pic of the sweaty parents fresh off the construction of an ill-advised and completely unnecessary dorm-room loft.

For all the goods and ills that come with them, our always-online lives left me with a couple of thoughts as we wind down the back-to-school season.

First, when I get past my mild annoyance with the sameness of it all, I genuinely appreciate the reality that so many of us are going through—or once went through—similar experiences.

There is comfort in that. There is contentment in that. There is connection between great friends and distant acquaintances in knowing that many of us are waking up early, heading to the front porch, wrestling with a distracted dog, and persuading a disgruntled kid to “smile just once.” There is community in scrolling past another image of a college kid in shorts, standing by a mini fridge, smiling with all the hope in the world that his mom will “take the dang picture already” and put her phone away before anyone walks in the room.

Granted, the comfort isn’t super deep, the connection isn’t really strong, and the community isn’t all that tight—it’s virtual, after all. But it’s there. And as long as there’s a pic of a kid holding a whiteboard that says “First Day of ___ Grade” with a 3rd scribbled in the blank, I’m a virtual thumbs-up all day long.

Second, the mass sharing of first-day photos and drop-off experiences—the similarities, the redundancy—prompted me look more closely at my own son’s college drop-off. It helped me appreciate more clearly the genuinely unique aspects of our final few hours together as a family until Turkey Day.

One moment will stay with me for a while, and anyone who’s asked me recently how college drop-off went has probably heard me tell this story.

My son is attending school eight hours from home, in eastern Pennsylvania. Our drop-off involved a long drive and an overnight in a local hotel before getting the keys to his new dorm the next morning.

After a nice “final breakfast” near the hotel, we made our way to campus, checked in, and headed to the dorm. We unloaded, unpacked, set up, made beds, arranged clothes, and got settled. Then we went out for a “final lunch” before bringing him back for a 2 p.m. meeting and our “final hug” and goodbye.

We pulled into a parking spot behind the athletic complex around 1:57 p.m., and the moment I’d been wondering about for weeks was about to come.

Would I cry? Would his mom cry? Would HE cry? Would he just say “bye,” turn, and walk away? Would he say anything at all? How would it go?

As we stood on the sidewalk, I went to give him a hug, and I noticed a campus police officer walking toward us. She was older—gray hair, not very tall, but not at all timid. Easily retirement age, maybe working security at the small local college after an earlier career on the force. And I instantly recognized the look on her face.

I work in downtown Lansing. I can ID the unforgiving look of a parking officer eyeing a kill from a pothole-riddled mile away. And now here she was, marching with purpose—slowly, but with purpose—to take this “final moment” between a son and his parents and turn it into a parking violation scold.

“I love you, bud,” I said. “Have fun. Do well. And take care of yourself.”

“Now, I gotta go!” I thought. “I’m not about to get yelled at by this college parking cop.”

My wife hugged our son and said her goodbyes, while I kept a close eye on the approaching officer of the law.

“Let’s go!” I said. I jumped in the car, determined to peel out of that spot and leave the fuzz in my dust.

As I turned to back out, I saw the officer motion with her hand. “Roll down your window,” her gesture communicated.

“Dang it! She’s got me! I can’t believe this.”

I slowly rolled down the window and braced myself. She leaned in, her face – deep with wrinkles hardened by years of patrolling the tough streets of Mechanicsburg, PA – telegraphing the tongue-lashing I was about to get for the capital offense of parking behind the athletic complex.

“I’ll take good care of him,” she said. “I’ll take good care of him.”

She smiled, winked, straightened up, and walked back up the sidewalk.

Collectively, the college drop-offs and first-day-of-school routines aren’t all that unique. Everyone’s doing them. But each of us has our moments to remember. Our uniquely made memories. The family images that will live in our minds long after the posts on social networks have scrolled away.

Who’s got two worn-out thumbs and loves “back-to-school” pics? This guy!