(MONEY Magazine) – Yes, we read the right books, we talked to alumni, we visited; so we were pretty confident that we knew what was in store for Max in his freshman year at the University of Texas at Austin. After all, he chose his college using strict guidelines. Max's priorities were a school: 1) in a warm climate, 2) with academic strength in many fields, 3) far from home, 4) with lots of school spirit, and 5) that would accept him. Once the choice was made, we figured our job was done. But, oh, there was still so much to learn.

MAX'S LESSONS 1. No matter how much money you get, it's never enough. My parents deposited about $75 into my bank account every two weeks; about $40 went for meals at cheap burger and Tex-Mex joints near campus (there's no Sunday night dinner at UT, and I had classes during two lunch hours each week); about $10 for snacks and Cokes; and $20 for entertainment. Actually, I'm not sure, because the money just seemed to disappear. Lucky thing I brought so many clothes because I barely had change left over for laundry. I was usually down to my last 58 cents in no time. Once, I sold some plasma for $17, using the money to do the laundry and buy a pizza. When I mentioned this to Mom, she started screaming that I was ''selling blood for tomato sauce.'' But she didn't increase my allowance. It wasn't until 30 days before school ended that I finally realized I needed a budget. I started going out only two nights a week. And I put $5 aside for emergencies. You never know when you'll need that extra pizza. 2. Even if there are 400 people in a class, you don't have to be an anonymous face. The secret isn't in the class time. It's in the five minutes before and after. That's when I asked my questions. Doing that puts your face in the teacher's mind -- especially if you can also ask intelligent questions in class. In my music course (jazz), there were 400 students. The teacher didn't know my name, but I had spoken up, so he recognized me when we ran into each other on campus. I asked more questions then, and we got into discussions of class material. My astronomy professor gave his home phone number to our class of 150, but I was one of only a few to call. His explanations of complicated concepts helped me get a B. 3. Just because someone else liked a course doesn't mean it's right for you. At my school, students can publicly post informal evaluations of their professors and courses. After some experience, I don't put much faith in these appraisals. Most people's opinions are colored by the grades they got. I tried out one highly touted logic professor who bragged to our class that a liberal arts major (like me) had never finished his course; I dropped it during the two-week grace period at the beginning of the term. One of the ''25 best professors'' wouldn't allow me to use a tape recorder in his fast-paced history lectures. I passed the course anyway. After that, I learned to ask upperclassmen for specifics -- the size of the class, the importance of papers vs. tests. Those facts helped me choose my courses wisely for this fall -- I hope. 4. College isn't the orgy you expect. For many students, liquor and college are inseparable. I know guys who partied all year -- filling dorm elevators with beer cans and listening to Garth Brooks (ugh!) at three in the morning -- but I don't know too many of them who will be back next year. Their grade point averages were usually in the low single digits -- preceded by a decimal point.

MOM'S LESSONS 1. They will spend every dime you send them, and more. Considering that at college your child has a roof over his head and paid-up meals in a dining hall, clothing, a special allowance for books and every electronics device known to man, he shouldn't need that much. Or so you would think. I started Max on a monthly allowance of $100 that I deposited in a joint account. But I was appalled to see, when I checked through my ATM, that five days after I made his monthly deposit he was down to 58 cents. I increased the allowance to $150, and that was gone in six days. Slipping him an extra $10 or $20 during the month didn't seem to ease the strain. When I asked where the money went, he said, ''I dunno'' or ''For stuff'' or ''Just junk.'' I finally shifted to twice-monthly payments of $75 so that he couldn't spend a whole month's allowance in the first week. That helped a little. And I managed to cut Max's phone bill in half by threatening to yank his Sprint Foncard. He'd been charging about $50 a month for gabfests with friends at colleges around the country. 2. Your child needs your guidance, and so do you. Max already knew that he would risk loss of his Foncard if he told me that he was taking ''Baseball and American Culture, 1825-1945'' (a real offering) or another bit of pop academics. Some courses sound solid -- ''Philosophy 304'' -- but beware. According to the catalogue, UT's ''Philosophy 304'' deals with ''contemporary moral problems'' -- in other words, it's ''Chewing the Fat 101'' -- names like Socrates, Plato and Confucius were not on the reading list. I told Max to switch. When he called home after meeting with his ''peer counselor'' (translation: a slightly older kid), he told me he had been advised to take only 12 credits in his first semester instead of the university maximum of 15. (You need 120 to graduate.) ''She told me that I would be too stressed,'' he explained. ''It's my money,'' I told him. ''Get stressed.'' If he followed that airhead's advice, I'd be paying college tuition until I was 72. 3. Bad things happen to good stuff. Not only can valuables get damaged, lost or stolen (the roommate turns out to be Clyde -- or Bonnie), but your child will also have to spend so much time guarding and maintaining everything that he won't be able to attend classes. My take on the supposedly necessary equipment: TV -- no, students should be studying, not watching Star Trek reruns (Max's roommate brought one anyway, and they did watch Star Trek reruns); a boom box -- okay; a microwave -- no, it's forbidden at most colleges; a computer -- maybe (Max had one, but it broke and he wound up using the university's more up-to-date model in the dorm's computer lab); a fridge -- no, kids should eat meals their parents paid for in the dining hall (Max disagrees); fur coats and leather jackets -- no, they're politically incorrect; a car -- no, just try to find a parking space on campus; and a bike -- yes. 4. You don't want to know about your child's social life. The details are too tawdry to contemplate. But make sure that your children know what kind of behavior you expect from them. 5. Kids aren't like we were -- perfect in every way. Ignore all complaints about bad food, stupid professors, bureaucratic registration systems, difficult courses and unfair grades, but be merciful. The reason that the kids are so miserable is that we parents gave them such happy, wonderful homes. College suffers by comparison.