Needless to say, I was pleased at his adjustment and very impressed at the college's attention to their students' needs. As my son explained his college's generosity, I was deeply satisfied that my son was a beneficiary of it. The provision of free transportation seems such a generous accommodation, yet it reminded me that black colleges often show such generosity. It reminded me, for instance, of my own first year at Stillman College in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. My first return to my home in Detroit for the holidays began with a drive to the airport, a free trip provided by the college. As I recall, I was the only one on the college van, driven by one of the security guards, who instructed me to call the college to alert them of my return date. That was over twenty-five years ago, and as I have watched institutions of higher ed become more lean and mean, my heart certainly is warmed to know that, despite financial tightening, some institutions are still going out of their way to meet student needs, even needs which they would have little trouble making the case should be the students' and parents', not the institutions', responsibility.
My faith is renewed, not in black colleges, for my commitment to them has never wavered. Rather, I am just plain ol' happy that at a time when it would appear that nearly all institutions have adopted an ethic of practicality, becoming super-structured, inflexible, and, one could argue, impersonal, my son's school is relating to students as people first.
As for my other son, he is at a state-funded HBCU. He wanted a larger population than is the case at most private black colleges. He in fact wanted to be at a university rather than a college. He wanted a full sports program. My husband and I let him have his way though I was tempted, even as we drove our sons to their campuses, to talk him into the smaller school. My second son's school is larger in many other ways; the campus is bigger in terms of acreage. There are many more choices of residence halls, and all student-designated areas, including academic buildings, have more bells and whistles, such as new, plush, furniture and mounted thin-screen televisions. At orientation, my son was so impressed with the display that his decision was sealed, and the son attending the private college began to have serious doubts about his fate.
As an educator, I tend to question the real value of surface-level accommodations when compared to human relationships. In other words, while the state school clearly has more money to make its campus more comfortable, I wonder if the tendency isn't to over-rely on such conveniences to the point of discounting the building of relationships and personal generosity. At this point, I admit to being overly critical of the state-funded HBCU since personalization is in my opinion the hallmark of the black college and the very reason why I so wanted my children to experience these historic institutions.
By yesterday, my temporarily-isolated son had come out of his room, evidenced by the fact that the loneliness in his voice at 5:00 p.m., when he'd called me and tried to engage in any conversation that would keep me on the phone, and his voice at 9 p.m., when he informed me that he had no time to talk. He was busy! It will be an interesting four years, and I hope to share the best and the worst of these two types of black colleges. I suspect both are needed; some students and their parents as well naturally want more structure, more systematization, and I don't doubt that such might be good for my son, who has been just a little coddled in childhood. As for the other, his college has already renewed a faith challenged during his formative years of schooling by a strong sense of being just a number. So, I think, all is well.
