Every year, just around this time, college-bound high school seniors start planning for the upcoming fall semester at Their University (upper casing assigned intentionally). Also every year around this time, I receive between 20 and 40 e-mails, phone calls and texts asking if I’ll write sorority recs.

I’m happy to write, write, write because it’s what I do, do, do. That, and it’s the responsible, friendly thing to do for friends, friends’ daughters and Peep 1’s classmates. But let’s move on from me to the sorority candidates themselves, shall we?

I don’t need a crystal ball to predict the two things that will happen during the rec writing extravaganza. First, many of the resumes will have extremely inflated information because, yeah, it’s a resume. Second, not a single girl will tell me what she pledged after rush.

But back to the resume thang. Last year, one sorority-bound sue sent me, among other things, a 12-page resume that gave a play-by-play account of every move she’d made since what seemed like the beginning of time. You’d have thought she soloed every competition, taken home every trophy, volunteered ever waking hour not spent performing and accepting trophies, flown to the moon and back on a rocket ship she’d handcrafted from popsicle sticks, and started a business venture selling freeze-dried pickles made from organic cucumbers grown in her very own organic garden on land she’d purchased with money she’d made selling lemonade at a stand she’d constructed from wood she’d chopped down in a rain forest she’s traveled to on a middle school mission trip.

It got me wondering What. In. The. World. caused such a level-headed student to inflate her resume like a helium balloon. And then it hit me.

The expectations for today’s high school students are beyond ridiculous. BEYOND RIDICULOUS. They are expected to excel in academics, jump on the AP bandwagon, tackle at least four hours of homework every night, play at least one sport although two is preferred, volunteer relentlessly, attend church regularly, spend quality time with their families daily, exercise, eat balanced meals, have social lives, keep their rooms clean, change their own oil, compose music, have part-time jobs, save the planet, and get at least eight hours of sleep every night. And that’s just the list for slackers. It’s exhausting, if not troubling, to watch.

I would no more want to be a high school student today than a man in the moon. The loads they carry are a train wreck, and I honestly wish a simpler life for them. While high school should be a time of preparation for the future, it should also be fun. A lot of fun. For that reason and many more, I’m beyond happy to write sorority recs for students who live in a pressure cooker.

And if that’s not enough to make Buffy bitchy, I don’t know what is. Only Buffy isn’t bitchy because the next resume these gals write will be when they’re graduating from college and seeking employment in the workforce.

Good news, girls: Expectations will be more realistic. Much. More. Realistic.