Hot Listing: Hobart and William Smith

There is a place on the New York Thruway - vaguely east of Utica - where I always say to myself: “I should have just flown here.” 

On this particular journey, it strikes as expected. I whine with the hyperbolic impatience of the faux put-upon. I finally shrug it off, but narrowly avert a speeding ticket by pumping my brakes in the left lane like the unstable driver’s ed instructor from high school. I rediscover my peace by singing along to Beat Up Chanel$ for the twentieth consecutive time - and I just keep driving. 

Those who know me would surely attest to the fact that I will pretty much do anything - including a deeply boring slog - to visit a fabulous college. And at long last, I’ve finally made it to this one: Hobart and William Smith.

One of the things I sometimes say to people is: “Will you please just shut up and at least look at a small liberal arts college? It could be a fabulous fit.” I’ve been to many (I always take my own advice) - but this one is distinctly special. 

My first full day revealed this with haste. The campus is the stuff of legend - stunning, well kept, and across the street from one of the most beautiful of the storied Finger Lakes. The pace of life at HWS is one built around humane ease, warmth, tactileness, inclusivity. The student population is much more diverse and far less preppy than the stock image in my mind had led me to believe. 

I was gifted a warm reception and rigorous agenda packed with HWS gliterrati.

My main campus tour guide, a senior named Max, shuttled me around like a kindly boss - and at the end of our ambling conversation, I asked him to summarize his time at HWS in one short sentence. His response: “It’s all about community.”

And I heard this all day long - from everywhere, from everyone. The notion that the experience of learning, of being, of expanding, is one that thrives through rich relationships and interpersonal connections. And “life-altering experiences.” Through exposure to the new and the novel and the important. Through the intentional cultivation of dimension, of breadth - and of shared growth. Eavesdropping on an early-morning dance course peopled by a shocking number of athlete types, I heard the professor exult over African drum beats: “Remember, this is the last time you are going to dance with these people, so really make this moment last.”   

One of the most insightful and profound things I heard, however, was from a long-time dean and faculty member (she teaches Russian), who said one of the (many) reasons she chose to spend her life at HWS is because it’s an institution that is really good at helping students see “how very smart they are.” I then basically asked if I could move into the office next door and wash my cashmere sweaters with baby shampoo in the kitchenette.

About midway through my day I realized that many of the people here were “lifers,” or were expecting to be. Meaning, they had worked - or intended to work - at HWS forever. In an age when people are fleeing higher education (and education in general) like a burning building, that says something. 

Part of it is just magic, but part of it is leadership. Everyone I talked to praised President Mark Gearan, who actually left HWS at one point, and then boomeranged back a few years later. He also used to run the Peace Corps. He is known for unusual kindness and approachability, and for being a total mensch - he hosts weekly Friday evening gatherings at his house for the community to relax and engage and connect. But lest you think that warmth equals messiness - guess again. This place obviously runs like butter.  

As an uber impressive VP told me: “HWS gives a little bit of cult energy.” Agree. But in a good way, obviously - like Goop. Everyone, across the full span of people, seems to feel that way. From NARPS to gays to creatives to athletic MVPs. Unity. Belonging. Connection.

To boot, one of the things HWS has really nailed is the intersection of the applied and the intellectual (note: I 100% lifted this from an HWS publication). This was spotlighted by the most impressive career services operation I have seen in many years. They have an army of eleven pros standing by to help students plan a post-HWS existence, and they provide career support to graduates for life. Every current student is guaranteed an internship or research placement - and generous stipends are provided for those that are unpaid or underpaid. The approach here is “white glove,” deeply personal, and champions “soft skills.” The person I met with had spent many decades working at Calvin Klein in Manhattan - chic, well-spoken, incredibly driven, approachable, a font of wisdom and meaningful life experience. She couldn’t have been more remarkable, and I’d be hard pressed to find a better human to launch a 22-year-old into the wild. 

A modern-day deity once belted “money changes everything.” It sure does - and this place would know. HWS has an exceptionally loyal alumni and donor following, and they are currently wrapping up a monumental $400 million fundraising campaign (and it’s looking like they could actually exceed that goal). And as part of this, they received a $70 million gift from a single donor. They also have a new, state-of-the-art, 40,000-square-foot science building being erected in the center of campus, funded by an alum to the tune of $25 million. 

You’d think they would lose some humility - but haven’t. And clearly won’t. They see this success as solidifying their strength and future, and underwriting what they do best: providing a sterling, contemporary undergraduate education with a community full of soul. They also want to ensure access to it - HWS has very strong financial aid, including incredible, landscape-changing merit scholarships. This means that this small liberal arts college is able to attract and retain students from a wide swath of socioeconomic backgrounds, including the increasingly illusive American middle class.

At the end of my day, I literally collapsed into a stylishly patinaed wing chair in the Admission Office, but was brought back to life by the arrival of their charismatic - but laid back - Dean of Admission. In many ways, he was the embodiment of HWS: down-to-earth, whip smart, and clearly knows what he is doing. A kind person, who is also good at being a person. I got the sense that he is not someone obsessed with admission “book cooking” or hustling for the cold meaninglessness of rankings. Instead, he wants the right kids for his community, because he knows that it's the people who are the heart of this place. Clearly, he’s figured out how to get them. HWS just had the largest applicant pool in its history, and is about to welcome its largest incoming class in nearly a decade.

In the end, he helped me fully connect the dots: what this place has that so many of its peers are missing is real momentum. At a time when so many liberal arts colleges are closing, slowing, or merely hanging on - HWS is getting stronger, better. It’s thriving. It’s brimming with excitement, promise. Beautiful, natural, prismatic light at every turn.  

Its moment has not passed. It’s right now. And I’d bet the house that it lasts.

Hot Listing: Elon University

For most of my life, my preconceived notions about North Carolina were more or less limited to chewing tobacco and Jesse Helms. 

And I’ve never had much use for either. I care deeply about dental hygiene and find homophobic bigots generally distasteful.

But Jesse is long dead and my teeth look great. So it was inevitable that this moment would find me: speeding west from Raleigh in the driver’s seat of an ice blue vintage Saab, Godmother in tow, on my way to visit Elon University.

Sure, several people from my high school attended college here. As a long haul counselor, I’ve delivered several fabulous kids to its doorstep. And its reputation is quite strong in the “industry.” But it had long stood as one of the few colleges I had never visited in person - the enigmatic haze of the rural South always vaguely clouding its place in my mind.

But here I am - finally, if not a tad begrudgingly. 

Though ultimately: shame on me. Because this place is fabulous.

Straight out of the gate, the visit experience is tight, impressive and well choreographed (one of the best I’ve ever had) - but also so full of genuine heart. The campus is as immaculate and gorgeous as the day is long - it’s actually a registered botanical garden. The sense of place on these grounds is acute, remarkable - almost fantastic.

And they gifted me a fabulous t-shirt that is really quite slimming - very GQ. Is James Perse making their merch?

If that wasn’t enough, here are three key reasons to love Elon (even more):

1. It’s a sensational value. Full cost of attendance here hovers at just under $67,000 per year. It’s a bargain these days (which is shocking, I know). At many similarly profiled private institutions, the price tag runs roughly $25,000 more per year, sometimes more. Mic drop.

2. It has one of the best Musical Theater programs in the country. What can I say? I’m a sucker for splashy production numbers and a bit of easily resolved drama. Elon grads have been populating key theatrical roles - particularly on Broadway - for many years, including in Dear Evan Hansen and Tina. I also think the strength of this program adds another vivid dimension to the institutional culture and helps support a particular diversity in the community at large. You know: the kind of people that will, sporting a cropped tank top, belt Flowers as they sprint down a primely located Fitness Center treadmill - and then glitter bomb your whole Comp. Lit seminar, just for the hell of it. Sorry, Jesse.

3. Elon is showing up for Jewish students. It was one of only two schools to recently earn a solid “A” on the Anti-Defamation League’s new Campus Antisemitism Report Card. The other was Brandeis. This feat is so very important right now - and one made all the more remarkable given its Bible Belt location.

I would be remiss if I didn’t take a hot moment to state the obvious: the academics here are outstanding. And in my opinion, pretty underrated nationally. When you go you will learn about their finely articulated commitment to critical thinking and experiential learning, and their uniquely impactful model for fostering faculty/student mentorship relationships. This last bit is worth its weight in gold. 

Accordingly, it's my sincere belief that the cultural center of this community is not the bravado or snobbishness that sometimes befalls selective colleges. Nor is it needless, exhausting academic competition (which is mishegoss anyway). 

It’s the people. And wonderful people, to boot. The enclosure of the campus and its relative isolation only makes those connections - those people - better, it would seem. And the community: much more of a tightly held embrace.

The folks I met here were eclectic, but all electric - extroverted, smart and really approachable. Not a whiff of pretension. Personality and openness and kindness must be in the water. Fun, random strangers smiled at me on paths and held doors for me in just about every building. My tour guide, Owen, was a popstar, and even the other people on the tour were saucy and connective and smart and stylish - they were people I’d be friends with.  

Speeding east on I-40, I accidentally cut off a guy in a huge F-150 with a Don't Tread on Me bumper sticker. Sorry, sir: I should have stayed in the right lane. But I was lost in thought: “had Elon been there the whole time?” Well yes, it had. So perhaps it was me. My own smallmindedness. My own rash judgment. Or perhaps, like most things and people: it’s only gotten better and more welcoming with age. 

So go see Elon. Because the moment has come to stop being afraid of the deep South. And I volunteer to go first.

Warren Buffet Might Tell You to Go to Purdue

I have a crush on Warren Buffet.

Disclaimer: not romantically. No offense. But rather because he’s an extraordinary human being. And because he knows money.

If, by chance, you live alone in a dark hayloft outside East Jesus, Nowhere, and don’t know who he is, Warren is a brilliant, beloved and insanely wealthy investor and philanthropist. He has, in his nearly 70 year career, made his trademark focus on “value” a widely trafficked and heralded approach to equity investing - one that prioritizes strong fundamentals and long-term thinking. It has netted him and his company - Berkshire Hathaway - billions of shekels. And rather admirably: he’s got a heart the size of Nebraska itself.

You may think it strange, but I often find myself emulating and channeling Warren in my life and work. I talk about value a lot - what’s “under the hood” of colleges, and how that connects with the goals, instincts and desires of students. Fit and value, indeed, go hand in hand.

But Warren is also a devotee of the concept and power of compound interest. I’m not going to explain it, because you have access to the internet. But you should learn about it before you decide where to go to college.

Dance break disclosure: I am not a certified financial planner or wealth manager. But we can still do a simplified and hypothetical exercise, just for fun.

You are currently a high school junior. You are an only child. Your parents have earned well, saved religiously, and invested shrewdly since before you were born. Thus, you do not qualify for need-based financial aid. Sidebar: if this is you, let’s acknowledge that you are supremely privileged and quite lucky. You should be humbled, and beyond grateful. You should mow your parents' lawn for free for the rest of their lives.

You love Cornell. You also love Purdue. Both are fabulous fits with much to offer you in every conceivable way, and you would be happy to attend either.

Ultimately, you apply to and are admitted to both. Great work.

Now, for the cold, hard truth:

Here is the projected, rough chop cost of your four years at Cornell (Arts & Sciences): approximately $387,000.

Here is the projected, rough chop cost of your four years at Purdue (Out of State): approximately $190,000.

Here is the difference: $197,000.

Enter the stylish queen with the compound interest calculator.

If you took that $197,000 and invested it in my favorite, dowager-approved mutual fund (Fidelity Puritan) today and left it untouched for the next 14 years, it could grow to around $675,000 by your 30th birthday. That future sum will have the buying power of about $456,000 today.

Pause, and say this number out loud: $456,000.

That could help you start your dream company. Or help you walk off a job that is giving you grief. Or you could stay home with your first child. Or buy a condo - in cash - in many fabulous parts of our country.

You could hire Cardi B to perform at your 30th birthday party - the bass line from Money shaking the floor as $20 notes and gold confetti rain from the ceiling.

You could - a la Warren himself - give a sizable chunk of it away to people and organizations doing good in the world.

Hell: you could do all of these things and then some.

Of course your parents could reclaim that money - and retire to Boca five years early. A well earned and just reward for supporting and loving you since birth.

The rub is that I can’t assign value in and to other people's lives - I can merely encourage them to consider it for themselves and their families. And no judgment: if Cornell is worth that much more to you, go for it. In the end, it’s deeply subjective: we like what we like, we want what we want, we need what we need. We all have different viewpoints and priorities and paths to follow. And some would posit that fundamentally: money is meant to be spent, and investing in kids is a good way to do it.

And please do note: even if you do end up falling into the expansive category of people who will rightfully qualify for some need-based financial aid, you may very well still have to make a similar decision about what it’s all worth - just with differently scaled numbers.

And when that moment comes, be sure to keep value - and a smiling, 93-year-old Midwestern mensch - at the center of that conversation. Think about it longitudinally; Warren himself proves that life is both long and fabulous. Just don’t forget to compound the interest along the way.

To close, I’ll do something I rarely do in polite company: I’ll tip my hand. I would likely tell you to go to Purdue.

And I think Warren might, too.