Tag: college

Re-Branding Notre Dame: Name Changes and More

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Big changes are brewing at the College of Notre Dame of Maryland.

Mary Pat Suerkamp, long-time president of the school, announced her plans to step down after the 2011-12 academic year. Suerkamp oversaw the school for fifteen years — eons in the lifespan of college presidents. Over the course of that decade and a half, she oversaw a record fundraising campaign, and expanded the school’s offerings to include a handful of doctoral programs.

Suerkamp’s departure will come on the heels of another big change for Notre Dame:  as of September 9, the school will officially be known as Notre Dame of Maryland University. This re-naming is part of a larger re-branding campaign that’s aimed at getting the school’s “complex” character in front of the public eye.

As P.J. Mitchell, chair of the board of trustees, told the Baltimore Sun,  “One of the things we wanted to do was bring clarity to the brand,” she said. “People weren’t sure who we were because all they heard about was the women’s college.”

Notre Dame has always faced a bit of an uphill battle in terms of branding. For one, it shares a name with a better-known institution famous for its sports teams; our ND, in contrast, is a liberal arts college with an overwhelmingly female student body. But it’s just that reputation — for smallness, for being women-only — that the re-naming is supposed to shake up. The switch from “College of…” to “University” status is meant to highlight the school’s growing graduate programs, including newly minted — and co-ed — doctoral programs in education and pharmacy.  (There’s also the added benefit of getting rid of the current nomenclature’s awkward acronym, but no one’s putting that in any press releases.)

If all this rings a bell, that’s probably because several other educational institutions have similarly redefined themselves in recent years — Loyola College became Loyola University Maryland in 2009, and Villa Julie College switched to Stevenson University the previous year.

The Washington Post points out that market researchers have found that students think “university” sounds more prestigious than “college.” Can a name change and brand overhaul alter the way a school is perceived? We’ll keep an eye on Notre Dame to find out.

 

Photo courtesy Flickr user psalakanthos

What to Expect When You’re Expecting

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When our first child Emily was born, we were young, but not too young, and so eager to provide her with the life that we envisioned for her—no opportunity denied her, no experience beyond her reach. We would give her everything she could ever want or need.

My husband and I have compatible philosophies about childrearing, and while we planned to craft a comfortable existence for our children, we also knew that we would have high expectations for them. They would be well behaved, and we would be disciplined. They would work hard, and we would reward them. They would be good people—we would see to it. Naturally, they would attend the finest colleges and universities, and meet every measure society might place alongside them.

Fast forward nearly seventeen years… Beautiful Emily, born on a cold January evening, has exceeded our hopes and expectations. She has played sports, a musical instrument, participated in clubs, activities, even scouts, and has done well academically. She has been nominated to leadership programs, and won scholarships. We have been good parents, and she makes us exceptionally proud. Our daughter has good friends. She is invested in her community, and cares about other people. But, by the standards in this world of the uber-privileged, she is just a normal kid – a really good, normal kid. She does not get the best grades in her class, which she will willingly tell you. And she is no star athlete. Mind you, we still think she’s exceptional.

Imagine, then, the swirl of confusion as we have come to realize that all of this, this well-planned, exemplary childhood, may not be enough! This child, our beautiful, smart, hard-working child, is average, at least in the eyes of some college admissions professionals. It’s true that we know she will go to college, somewhere, and more importantly that she will grow to become a fantastic adult with a real appetite for learning and personal growth. But we can no longer promise her every door will be open for her. This is the first time in her life, and in our life with her, that we cannot offer her full access to the next steps.

What has happened is no tragedy. It is simply the realization that “really good” isn’t always good enough to get you in every door. This is never more true than when the doors they are knocking on are the prestigious colleges and universities we parents assumed our children would attend.  “Naviance,” a web-based software product used by high schools to aid their upperclassmen in the college application process, tells us that the profile for the typical accepted students at Harvard, Yale and Stanford, three universities with acceptance rates of 7 or 8%, include SAT scores in the range of 2100-2400. Average GPAs hover around the 4.0+ mark. In the world where these kids live and go to school, some of their classmates will get these scores.  But not many of them.

At the proverbial end of the day, when we are being really honest, I’m not sure if my anxiety is for Emily—that she will not be able to get into that first-choice school; or for me – that my own vanity will be exposed. We have wanted our daughter to achieve the highest level of success at every step of her young life. How much of this ambition has been for her, and how much for us?  These are the things that make me look old from the furrow that worry leaves in my brow. So now, in the early days of spring, I make my resolutions. I resolve to leave her alone about the college process.  I resolve to celebrate the really fantastic person she is, and is becoming. I resolve that I will not listen to the hushed conversations of parents along the soccer fields and concert rows during the rest of junior and senior years. And I resolve that, at least in our little world, we will make sure our really good, normal kid knows we think she is the best.

Elizabeth Frederick is a pseudonym used to protect the identity of the writer’s children.

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