PART TWO — FOR THE PARENT: THEIR MOVE

Chapter 18

Parent FAQ: The Questions I Was Asked on the Phone for Twenty Years

Nearly every one of these arrived in my office as an apology first. There is no need to apologize. These are the right questions.

For more than two decades I was the person on the other end of that phone call — as a professor, an academic advisor, and a Director of Freshman Programs — and the questions were remarkably consistent. Different families, different states, different years, same eight or nine worries. What follows is what I actually told them, arranged so you can find your question fast in the week you need it.

The First Few Weeks

They called crying. Do I get in the car?

Almost never, and I say that with sympathy because the urge is enormous. A crying call is usually the worst ninety seconds of a bad day being handed to the safest person they know, and it is followed by dinner and a decent evening you’ll never hear about. Stay on the phone, be steady, ask what they’re thinking of doing, and then wait a few hours and send one light text instead of three worried ones. Get in the car for Chapter 15’s short list, not for tears.

How long until they settle in?

Give it until the end of the first semester before you judge anything. The new independence is novelty for two weeks, homesickness landing hard in weeks three through six, a midterm dip, and a noticeably different student at Thanksgiving. Students who are still miserable in February are a real conversation. Students who are miserable in October are on a normal transition path.

They say they have no friends. What do I do?

Ask who they eat with and who’s in their classes rather than asking about friends, because the word ‘friend’ itself applies differently with new independence. Their book gives them a six-week friendship window and, more usefully, tells them that real friendships frequently arrive in the second semester through a class, a job, or a club rather than the first-week scramble. What you can do is normalize the timeline and resist the urge to sound worried, since your worry becomes their evidence.

Should I visit in the first month?

Generally wait, unless the school has a family weekend, in which case go to that. An early visit can be lovely and it can also reset the homesickness clock right in the middle of the window where they need to be building a life on campus. Aim for family weekend or the first natural break.

Money, Grades, and Paperwork

The school won’t tell me anything. Why?

Once your student enrolls and turns eighteen, federal privacy law (FERPA) puts their education records in their hands. Grades, attendance, and academic standing are theirs to share. There’s usually a release form or a proxy-access option if your family wants you authorized, and it’s best handled in August rather than during a crisis — see Chapter 15, and treat it as their decision rather than a condition of the money. Being an authorized payer on the bill is a separate and easier permission.

How much spending money is right?

It varies enormously with the campus, the meal plan, and your family’s situation, so the useful move is not a standard number but a consistent method and number. Decide the semester total together, divide by the weeks, and let that be the weekly number their Chapter 8 has them checking. Whatever it is, they need to know the figure. A student who knows their number and is broke is having an education. A student who doesn’t is having an unwelcome surprise.

They got a D on a midterm. Do I call the professor?

No, and this is the one I feel strongest about. A professor who hears from a parent about a grade learns something about that student that you would never choose to teach them: that they aren’t ready to be independent and responsible for their own choices and actions. Their Chapter 7 is a whole chapter on how to walk into office hours, and the fix for a bad midterm is almost always a conversation your student has, not one you have. Ask what they’re going to do, offer to rehearse it, and let them send the email. Plus, remember FERPA. The professor will not be legally able to discuss grades with you.

Should they have a job?

For most students, yes, and on campus if possible. Ten to fifteen hours a week is associated with better outcomes rather than worse, because it forces a structure onto a schedule that otherwise has enormous soft edges. On-campus jobs are also the most forgiving employers a student will ever have about exams. Above roughly twenty hours the job starts to negatively impact their academics.

They want to change their major. Is that a disaster?

It’s close to universal. A large share of students change at least once and it’s rarely the expensive event families imagine, though the timing matters — a switch late in the second year is where the extra semesters start appearing. Encourage a conversation with their current academic advisor AND the academic advisor for the major they are considering, about credits and sequencing, and the question to avoid is what are you going to do with that.

Worry, Safety, and the Hard Stuff

They haven’t answered in three days. Should I panic?

Not yet. It’s nearly always a lab, a nap, a dead phone, or a good week. Send one text that says no need to reply, just send me a thumbs up when you see this. If you truly cannot reach them and you have a real reason to be frightened, you don’t need any permission or paperwork — call the housing office or campus police and ask for a welfare check. It is available to you and no student has ever been harmed by one that turned out to be unnecessary.

How do I know if this is depression or just a hard month?

Duration and direction, not intensity. Two or more weeks of a flat voice, withdrawal from everything at once, sleep off the rails, stopped attending classes, or a new hopelessness that’s about them rather than about the semester — that combination is the line, and Chapter 15 has the full lists. Ask directly, name what you’ve noticed, then be quiet long enough for a real answer. And know that any mention of self-harm cancels every waiting rule in this book.

What do I say about drinking?

Have the conversation before August, keep it practical, and skip the speech. The things that actually save students are specific — never leave a drink unattended, never leave a friend alone with strangers, know that the signs of alcohol poisoning are a person who can’t be woken, and know that most campuses have an amnesty policy so calling for help does not get anyone in trouble. Say that last part out loud, because the fear of consequences is what makes students hesitate at the exact moment hesitation is dangerous.

Their roommate situation sounds bad. Can I call the RA?

Please don’t. An RA who hears from a parent has been handed a problem they cannot solve, because the conversation has to happen between two people who share that room. Your student has a whole chapter on the roommate agreement and how to reopen it, and a housing office that handles real conflicts. What you can do is rehearse the conversation with them, which is genuinely useful, and remind them that room changes exist and are not a failure.

The Long Game

They want to transfer. Already.

In October, this is almost always a feeling wearing a hard decision’s clothing. The rule I gave families for twenty years is that no transfer decision gets made before the end of the first semester. Take it seriously out loud — yes, let’s look at this properly in December — and then see what December brings. A meaningful number of students who said it in October never mention it again. The ones who do mention it in the spring are frequently right, and by then you can evaluate it with actual information. It is rarely about academics; usually, it’s about some kind of interpersonal issue.

They came home for break and they’re different. Is that normal?

Extremely, and it goes both directions. They arrive with later hours, new opinions, and a set of references you don’t share, and the house has quietly reorganized itself around their absence. Expect one friction point about curfew or chores in the first forty-eight hours and try to negotiate it rather than rule on it. Their independence is actually what you worked for the last eighteen years.

How do I stay close without hovering?

One predictable weekly call, texts freely with no expectation of a reply, and something about your own life in every single conversation. That last piece is the one parents skip and it’s the one that makes the phone ring on a Wednesday for no reason. Consultants get called back; micro-managers get avoided.

Honestly, am I supposed to feel this bad?

Yes, and there’s a whole chapter for you, which is Chapter 17. The ache is not evidence that something went wrong. It’s the badge for something that went right, because the entire job was to make a person who could leave and be successful. Put something real in your calendar for the empty evenings, find another parent from the same August, and give the big version of your feelings to another adult rather than to your student.