I love love love love love love prospies.
I love their overstuffed Norris shopping bags. I love the way they shuffle two strides ahead of their parents in a weak assertion of faux-independence. I love that they travel in droves, awkward and obedient to the omnipotent tour guide. I love that they don’t know the rules of Kings. I love their cattle-herd nametags, their pretentious questions and their judgmental periods of silence after I crack a joke about intradorm molestation. I love that they got waitlisted at Columbia.
Properly identified as “prospective students” by the Undergraduate Office of Admission, “prospies” are more abundant at this time of year than housing lottery numbers (which isn’t saying much. At all. Damn you, sophomore housing). The idea is, now that these fresh-faced high-school seniors have been admitted to our pristine institution of higher learning, they get to attend a bunch of information sessions, tour the campus and — my favorite part –stay overnight in a college dormitory with a student host.
Whichever genius at Undergrad Admissions conceived this idea was onto something. It’s hard to get a feel for a college when your parents are shadowing you at every moment, telling you to ask a question at every session, because clearly the dean remembers every student and if you don’t ask a question you are setting yourself up for failure. Thanks, Mom. Plus, the entire structure of Preview NU is just that: structured. The overnight stay cuts the umbilical cord and allows the prospie to get a feel for what the school is really like.
You have one night to show your prospie a good time, which can add a lot of pressure if you have a 9 a.m. exam the next morning. But try anyway. It’s open season, and the prospies are everywhere this year. Game on, ladies and gentlemen. Here’s how to show your prospie such a good time that she won’t even care she got rejected from Stanford, Harvard, Yale, Georgetown, Duke, Dartmouth, Penn, Cornell, Brown and Princeton.
From “Where’s the party?” to “What were your SAT scores?”:
Answering your prospie’s questions
My first hosting experience, back in ye olde fall quarter, was dismal. My prospie had apparently never heard of “conversation,” sat brooding into her milkshake at Kaffein and literally ran from my room the next morning as I called after her, asking if she wanted a tour of campus. But I will always remember the two (and only two) questions she asked of me: what was my SAT score, and where else had I applied. Yeah, she was the word “tool” personified.
Most prospies, however, have a lot of legitimate questions. What’s the social scene like? What attracted you to Northwestern? What’s your least favorite thing about campus? How hard are classes? Do the boys always look like this? (Yes, yes they do.)
My roommate and I had been so scarred by the experience of hosting our first prospie that it took us two more quarters to volunteer once more. We nervously skulked downstairs Monday night to the Allison lobby where a sea of prospies chatted about their high school resumes.
But luckily our new prospie was cute and friendly, and my roommate and I loved her instantly. (She, of course, was obligated to love us too: We took her to see Zach Braff.) Back on the fourth floor, we did the “Do you have any questions?” routine, and she had the standard ones, which we answered honestly. There isn’t any point in lying — you’re obviously here for a reason, and you’re not getting paid, so tell her the good and the bad.
We kept her in check throughout the evening, because these clever prospies think of new quips every few minutes or so. Just make sure you do what Undergrad Admissions wants you to do — tell the prospie about the school — before the evening dissolves into a night of debauchery.
I haven’t been this coy with a girl since sorority rush:
Finding out what your prospie wants to do
When I was a prospie (yes, I wasn’t always the sage sex/parties/exhibitionism reporter that I am now), I just wanted to get a feel for dorm life. I stayed with a friend from home in Sargent Hall and relaxed as people milled around, did homework and exchanged dorm gossip through doorframes. My friend showed me around North Campus, she did a little homework and we called it a night.
My roommate’s experience as a prospie was a little bit different. She parted ways with her host, started a gang of renegade prospies and got drunk in an abandoned room in CCI. (My roommate is much, much, much cooler than I am. Seriously. I think she might have a tattoo.)
Long story short, prospies have different ideas about what their nights will be like, but most of them are up for whatever you are. If your prospie is dying to lick the floor of the McCormick Tribune Center in an act of journalism tooldom, let her run wild. If she wants to walk around Evanston, take her to Kaffein or my new favorite coffee shop, Café Ambrosia, or even CVS (except maybe not so much that last one).
Like myself and most of the people my floor, you probably have designs on getting your prospie…oh, how to put this eloquently… you probably want to see your prospie get crunk. Just one thing: Make sure your prospie already drinks before you start pouring Absolut down her throat.
Asking a prospie if she drinks can be awkward. My roommate and I started with, “So, what do you like to do on the weekends?” Our adorable prospie said she wasn’t into the bar scene, but liked to hang out with friends and chill out. This was a good segue to “Wait, so do you drink?” to which she nodded her agreeable little head.
If your prospie does NOT drink, do not pressure her to. Why? Because that sucks. The end.
Do something. Anything.
Thanks to the comedy/alumni gods, our prospie got to see Zach Braff. He was everything I hoped he would be: gorgeous, charming, hilarious and willing to marry me after the show. My prospie was equally enthused. She spent the entire time text messaging her very envious friends about the gloriousness that is Zach Braff.
You probably won’t be so lucky the next time you host a prospie, but do try to take him or her to a campus event. There are dance shows, a capella performances, ethnic club workshops, guest speakers, comedians and art exhibitions almost every day. Check out “We Be Burnin’,” the Deeva Dance Troupe’s first annual spring showcase on Saturday, or stop by the Block Museum to see Roy Lichtenstein’s graphic art prints.
Avoid doing your homework while your prospie sits there, contemplating her rejection from Harvard or watching Scrubs (glorious, glorious Zach) on your computer. She can do both these things at home. If you absolutely must write your international award-winning paper, try to donate her to a prospie-less friend for the night. She will have plenty of time to do mindless work when she decides to go here. Four years of it, in fact.
Time to bust out the imported beer and BAC calculators:
Drinking with your prospie
I didn’t start drinking until my senior year of high school, which was a surprisingly common time to start drinking among my friends here (excluding, of course, the badass roommate I alluded to earlier).
Why this matters: Most prospies are relatively inexperienced drinkers. They haven’t developed a taste for beer, they get drunk off of only a couple mixed drinks (read: Crystal Light and vodka) and they aren’t familiar with their limit.
So, whether you take your prospie to a party or just play Kings in your room, remember a few things:
- Stay more sober than your prospie. You’re all friends around the beirut table, but this high school senior is still your responsibility. Don’t get wasted. You need to know where your prospie is at all times (get her phone number), protect her from your friendly campus sexual predators and make sure she doesn’t hit the bottle too hard. Drink a few beers, but make sure you’re sober enough to answer a phone call from, say, her parents. Sometimes that umbilical cord stretches all the way to frat row.
- Be her friend. Drinking with you and a bunch of other people she just met can be overwhelming for your prospie, and I’ve yet to hear of a situation where alcohol cleared up social confusion. I explained the rules of Kings to my prospie, then laughed as we all messed the rules up anyway.
- Hold her hair back. My prospie, being the best prospie in the history of existence, knew her limit. She drank one red cup of overly strong Crystal Light and Bacardi Melon and called it quits. Another prospie, however, decided to take three shots of Skol, wander into my room, already drunk (where we immediately cut off her drinking) and then disappear into the bathroom to have an intimate conversation with the toilet concerning the finer points of vomit — all while her host wrote a paper. Three shots are barely enough to get a lightweight freshman girl mildly buzzed, but this prospie managed to get sick off of it. Keep in mind your prospie’s possible inexperience, and don’t let her end up like that one did. And if she does get sick? Lots of water, a reliable scrunchie and a round of “Don’t tell your parents.” (A note to all parents reading this: Please don’t sue me. Your little angels are probably much more familiar with your liquor cabinets than you think.)
Rise and shine: Waking up your prospie
Northwestern prospective students tend to still have that neurotic, Type-A drive that most of us left at home with AP exams, curfews and other relics of high school. They usually can set their own alarms, check their schedules and be on their way.
If you’ve been partaking of the alcohol (with your 21-year-old prospie, of course), waking up can be hard to do. Set an alarm before you drink, and drag her out of bed.
But seeing as my roommate and I are cooler than most, we basically rolled over, kicked our prospie in the side, and mumbled, “Do you want to get up?” into our pillows. I dozed on and off while she got ready to meet her parents.
My roommate and I were sad that we didn’t have the opportunity to show her around or eat lunch with her, but if your prospie can stick around, definitely give this a try. It lets your prospie know that you’re willing to hang out with her beyond the required time allotment, and personal tours of campus are just better than ones run by the school. I like to point out the rock by Kresge pronouncing that “On this spot in 1897, nothing happened,” and most tours skip my favorite campus spot: the painted rocks on Lake Michigan.
Give her a hug, tell her to quit the UNC ’11 facebook group she joined (here’s looking at you, prospie) and send her off. And if your prospie sucked, there’s always next week.
God, I love prospies.