Books like My Freshman Year

Julie was a former Dean of Students at Stanford University. She shares how she realized that she was working with kids who had “checked every box” and earned acceptance to one of the most selective universities in the world. However, she could not help but notice that despite their stellar list of achievements and impressive resumes, they sorely lacked the skills necessary to transition to the adult world of navigating normal roommate conflicts or even making minor decisions without the help of their parents.

This book is a great reminder that as parents, our ultimate goal is to prepare our kids to transition into adulthood with the necessary tools and skills to “adult” successfully. I had the opportunity to meet Julie personally, and her compassion, wisdom, and experience are genuine – this is required reading for parents. 

The editors and contributing authors present research and theory interspersed with unique personal experiences of the journey taken by first-generation students as they move through college. The volume provides the reader with up-to-date data on two- and four-year colleges, and discusses the intersection of first-generation status with varied student identities including LGBT, low-income, African-American, Latinx, Native American, and undocumented. The last section of the book offers an introduction to practices, policies, and programs across the U.S., and directs educators, policymakers, and administrators to make campuses inclusive for diverse first-generation college students. At the Intersection is a resource for understanding and effectively responding to first-generation students’ divergent, shared, and intersectional identities in order to understand and alter their access, retention, learning, and well-being on the college campus.

High school graduates with disabilities are often unaware of today’s new and rapidly developing options and limitations to postsecondary educational resources. This comprehensive guidebook provides excellent strategies for students who will be requesting disability access in preparation for the transition from high school into two and four-year colleges. Navigating the Transition from High School to College for Students with Disabilities includes an array of this information for both college-bound students and disability support staff. These include user-friendly campus resources, lessons for understanding and requesting access to campus accommodations, support for applying for financial aid, and strategies for meeting professional expectations.

In the year of her tenth reunion, journalist Alexandra Robbins returns to her former high-pressure public high school in Bethesda, MD. For the next year, she follows eight intelligent, motivated, and overachieving high school students through their daily lives. The author presents a host of complicated issues plaguing high-achieving suburban high schools including intense stress amongst students in AP courses, an epidemic of cheating, parental pressures to perform, unprescribed ADD drug use, and a cutthroat college admissions process. Although this is a nonfiction book scaffolded by investigative journalism, it reads like a novel. Robbins presents a clear warning to students as they navigate the pressures of achieving at peak levels and to parents about how serious the “Ivy-league obsession” is in American culture.

I love this book because Ivan Illich pulls no punches. I love the way he clearly points out how intertwined schools are with the nature of society, in a feedback loop of influence. Our very souls may be wounded by these structures, even when they are established with good intentions.

This “radical” book gave me permission to understand that I could connect the ecological and pedagogical, the theological and the social, the economic and the affective. Our nature permits endless noncoerced learning, but schools pervert that. Even though I understand how this message can be twisted for purposes of privatization and control, I love the idealism and humanism at its core.

This book changed my life. It answered my questions about why students so often didn’t like school despite so many efforts to force them to! (Yeah, it sounds dumb to me too, now.) 

Since reading this book, I've completely changed the way I teach. Inspired by these insights, I have written several books. I've become courageous about being like Alfie, who is an engaging writer, completely fearless, and committed to human well-being and all the ways our institutions, including schools, contribute to or undermine the best of our spirit—individual and collective.

Even when people in authority challenge me, I am inspired to speak the detailed truth, so much of it learned from this book! (It also has many well-digested sources.)

I love this book because I learn something new each time I open it. And I've opened it hundreds of times.

I love the boundless information here about how human societies, across time and space, have created concepts of the child and childhood, which always intertwine with ideas and practices about learning. Almost nowhere has it ever looked like the familiar-to-us “WEIRD” (Western, Educated, Industrial, Rich, Democratic) societies that are usually used to represent “human nature.” In fact, each time I read anything in this book, our own social and cultural practices look stranger and stranger.

This book gives me ideas about the struggles we often have to nurture children and students in our familiar ways—and that's because we are fighting all the natural tendencies of involvement, autonomy, and competence that guide most learning everywhere.

I love this book because Frank Smith, with the forgettable name, dares to point out the unmentionable: students forget almost everything they learn in school, at least the things they learn through coercion. I love the way he takes on all the orthodoxies about the necessity of teachers and schools, and instead shows the absolutely breathtaking learning that happens through connections with others in meaningful contexts.

I love his use of language learning as an exemplar of how learning works, because we anthropologists know so much about how it really occurs, without direct instruction, and through meaningful interaction with others, and it is so contrary to widely held, erroneous beliefs.

I love books like this, which take on received wisdom, especially when written beautifully and accessibleibly—and in just about a hundred pages.

Imogen, Obviously was such a fantastic read that I really could relate to.

Imogen was a lot like me in high school, a people pleaser who thought she was straight. She considered herself an ally, but then sometimes would have thoughts about girls, but passed them off as wanting to be their friend and looking back, I had the same thing happen to me. I really wished this book was available to me in high school because it would have helped me understand a lot more about myself.

This book has a memorable cast of characters including Imogen’s love interest Tessa and I’m going to be thinking about this book for a long time. 

Before Mark Zuckerberg and Eduardo Saverin were titans of tech and venture capital, they were college friends, and this book tells the partially fictionalized origin story of Facebook and its founders. Like many business partnerships, Facebook started as a friendship. In page-turning fashion, the book tracks the progression, and later regression, of the relationship between Zuckerberg and Saverin from friends to business partners to bitter rivals.

This book is simultaneously an entertaining beach read and a cautionary tale for startup co-founders.