Duly Noted | A fresh perspective on prospectives

It’s kind of incredible how easy it is to spot them. The dodgy eye movements, the white paper bags from the Admissions Office emblazoned with the impressive-looking blue crest. There’s an inexplicable foreignness to the way they just stand there, looking somehow out of place.

Prospective students — and the people-watching they engender — abounded on campus this week. I don’t mean to be condescending. I really don’t. It’s just strange and amusing because a year ago at this time, I was one of them. My parents were like those parents, equally excited and nervous and full of an endless supply of weird questions. Even though I don’t feel all that much older or wiser or cooler now, I’m just not like them anymore. And my parents, despite their concern for my well-being and interest in the most mundane minutiae of my daily life, have definitely mellowed.

I remember how on my own tour of Penn, I looked for people who looked like me, noting the brunettes and trench coats, imagining how I would totally be BFFLs with them one day. It’s only now, looking back on my desperate attempt to bottle the milieu of the campuses all across the Eastern Seaboard that I realize how superficial it all is.

How much can you really learn about a place by walking around it for a few hours, accompanied by overly attentive parents and tour guides who try really hard to make their voices project? It’s like deciding to marry someone after going on one very awkward date.

I love it when they break that fourth wall, when they ask me questions — “Where is Houston Hall?” (With the “ou” in Houston accented like the East Village street.) “Where is the Office of Admissions?” (“Straight ahead,” followed by an “oh, how nice.”) “Do you like it here?” (“Oh, yes.” Grins all around.)

It’s fun to see the families plopped down at a table somewhere, with matching wristbands, huddled close, eating their food, trying to subtly absorb the Penn atmosphere.

A few days ago at Au Bon Pain, I had a direct encounter. The restaurant was crowded. I was sitting there, feigning productivity when someone sat down across from me. I looked over my computer screen and was greeted by a tired looking 50-something man.

“Is anyone sitting here?” he asked, already peeling off his noisy plastic jacket.

“No, there wasn’t,” I replied, neatly, nicely. A moment later, his entire family, consisting of a wife, daughter and bored son surrounded me. It was all very strange.

“Daddy, can’t we go sit outside?” the blushing girl half-pleaded.

“No, why would we do that?” And that was that.

The next day, a similar scene — a father donning a suit jacket and jeans, ’90s casual Friday style. “Guys, let’s wander around, come on, let’s go, let’s wander around, guys,” he cheered to his two teenage boys with matching haircuts. The boys did not seem interested in wandering much of anywhere, so the dad stood for a good minute or two with his arms clawed across their backs, while they all uncomfortably read The Daily Pennsylvanian together.

I suppose what I’m trying to say is that Preview Days can serve as an equally enriching experience for current students as it does for prospective ones. Instead of looking at the spring visit season as a burden that crowds dining halls, it can instead be a benchmark in the progression of your awkwardness, a reason to remember why you love it here so much. Remember that the kid with the Penn backpack, Penn folder and Penn T-shirt beneath the many layers his mother made him wear was once you. At least in spirit. So give him some directions, would you?

Rachel del Valle is a College freshman from Newark, N.J. Her email address is delvalle@theDP.com. Duly Noted appears every other Friday.

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