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It’s nearly impossible to discuss the university you attended without mentioning the phrase, alma mater. For many, it’s little more than a linguistic relic, with its resonance dulled by time and habitual incantation. Yet beneath this phrase lies an earnest metaphor. 

Let’s break it down: Alma is Latin for “nourishing” and mater for “mother.” Together, the phrase translates to “.”

Imagining your professor as your “nourishing mother” might send a Freudian shiver down your spine, but good universities, like good parents, challenge and shape us, push us toward intellectual maturity. They transmit the accumulated treasures of knowledge like cherished family heirlooms, enabling us to better participate in the grand tradition of human endeavor.

But no parent is perfect.

Many alma maters fail to nourish their children. They smother them in ideological orthodoxy, shield them from diverse perspectives, and leave them with only vending-machine epistemology. The “nourishing mother” becomes the “coddling mother” (blanda mater in Latin).

So what do you do when your alma mater falters? Walk away? Throw up your hands and declare, “Not my problem anymore?” 

No. Severing ties is tempting — but it’s also the easy way out. Family — whether biological or metaphorical — comes with obligations. When your parents falter, you don’t abandon them. You step up. 

Alumni must do the same. You’ve seen the good, the bad, and the in-between. You’re in the perfect position to hold your alma mater accountable — not as outsiders throwing stones, but as invested stakeholders.

The point is, your alma mater matters — not in some vague, admissions-office-brochure kind of way, but in a real, civilization-is-on-fire-without-them way. 

And here are three simple ways to get you started:

One: Organize. This doesn’t mean gathering on homecoming weekend to sip overpriced chardonnay under a rented tent while nodding dutifully along to speeches about “innovations in higher education” (translation: “a new rock climbing wall”). 

Instead, form a coalition of like-minded alumni who feel the soul-itching dread of watching their alma mater slide into intellectual oblivion. Take inspiration from the growing corps of alumni groups like the , or the , who refuse to sit idly by — they channel their shared discontent, strategize, and take decisive action.

Let your free speech-failing alma mater know: ‘I put my money where my mouth is.’

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When you donate to FIREin lieu of your alma mater, we’ll let campus leadership know it's their speech climate that cost them.

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Granted, building an alumni free speech alliance may require dusting off your old Rolodex or reaching out to former classmates turned LinkedIn “connections,” but ��֭����’s Alumni Network is here to help fill in the gaps. 

Two: Engage. Write to your alma mater’s leadership — presidents, provosts, deans, trustees, the guy in charge of pruning the hedges (okay, maybe not him, but you get the idea).

Urge them to adopt the Chicago Statement — the Magna Carta of free speech in higher education—and commit to institutional neutrality, which would prevent the university from taking positions on current political issues. This approach will ensure your alma mater is a crucible for truth, not an administrative jukebox playing whatever tune is trending. 

If you struggle to find the right words to say or simply lack the time to craft a letter that is punchy yet dignified, compelling yet not overly histrionic, FIREoffers ready-made emails which allow you to voice your frustrations with just one click. 

Three: Give (meaningfully). Stop sending your alma mater blank checks or withdrawing your funds entirely, and consider a better option: Donate to ��֭���� in lieu of giving and we’ll write to your alma mater, letting them know that until they fully protect free speech rights on campus it will no longer earn your charitable donations. 

Think of it like a free speech escrow account — it’s not just giving. It’s leveraging.

The point is, your alma mater matters — not in some vague, admissions-office-brochure kind of way, but in a real, civilization-is-on-fire-without-them way. Sure, they sometimes stumble and fall. But that’s not your cue to walk away. Instead, you step up, demand better, and help them correct-course — because that’s what family does.