Did you happen to see this article in the Times Union recently? I’m sure lots of folks feel gratified by their decision to reside in one of the successful suburban districts which are considered to be the best in the region. Me? I’m left with more questions than answers by the conclusions drawn and I want more information.
- How many of the students attending those schools immediately after graduating high school, complete their programs in either two or four years?
- How many of the students attending 4 year schools graduate from that same institution in 4 years?
- What is the median household income in each of those school districts?
- How about the average educational attainment in those same households?
I may be in the minority here, but I’m not overly concerned with whether my children go to college immediately after high school. And I’m not talking about the trendy “gap” year either. If higher education is the logical step on a path leading to a long-term career, what I’m curious to know is this: how many 18 year-olds truly know what they want to do professionally for the rest of their lives?
On a recent evening, the teenaged Lilly boys and I had an interesting conversation about college – getting in, being successful, and paying for it. In my mind, college isn’t a prolonging of the carefree days of high school with the added benefit of being away from home and playing beer pong. It’s a serious and expensive investment. Why take that on when you’re 18 unless you are either
a. incredibly motivated or
b. able to take advantage of an opportunity to attend a school with a substantial scholarship?
My route to college, and ultimately a Master’s Degree, was not direct. After leaving high school in my senior year, I worked full-time and supported myself. At the age of 21, I tentatively dipped my toes into higher education by taking a couple of night classes at the local high school in the village where I lived. The following year, I moved to Albany and began studying full-time.
Do I regret not taking a more traditional path to college? Not at all. If I were to do it all over again, the only thing I would change would be to have taken even more time to have traveled. I wish I had taken my hospitality skills on the road and spent some time waitressing in resort areas where I could have made bank while experiencing new sights. For me, the important thing about having a college degree isn’t about when you start earning it, it’s more about when you finish it. What do you think?
My middle son is going through a phase which I am calling his “asshole phase.” Please, hear me out on this. He is a smart, social, funny and athletic kid and I love him dearly, but he is having a very difficult time understanding that “with great power comes great responsibility.” As a parent who remembers high school as a time of not necessarily applying myself, I am empathetic to a certain extent, but when I consider the advantages he has compared to what was available to me, my indulgence of his laziness starts to dry up. Time to figure it out, my friend.
Possessing the myriad of gifts and advantages he has, yet not using them, has prevented him from fully participating in sports this spring. This should be his third year playing lacrosse, but instead of suiting up and getting on the field, he’s sitting on the bench because of academic probation. I am so appreciative of the fact that there are academic requirements for extracurricular participation. It prevents me from dropping the hammer and once again being the “bad cop.”
Today is the last day of his freshman year’s third academic quarter and he has failed to submit his outstanding work for the past 10 weeks of school. Looks like he’ll continue to be a bench warmer rather than an active participant in his chosen spring sport. C’est la vie. It hurts my heart to see him not achieving all he is capable of, but at least I don’t have to worry about him getting hurt physically, right?
As the middle guy struggles with time management and fulfilling the expectations and responsibilities which come from growing up, my little guy is taking steps away from me. This morning, as I parked my car to walk him into school, I noticed his friend walking down the block, solo. I pointed out his buddy and asked Quinn if he wanted to walk into school with just his friend. He quickly said yes and happily joined his classmate for an independent “big guys” walk to school.
I got back in my car, pleased that I would be uncharacteristically early for work. Before I turned the key, though, I took a moment to watch my baby walking away from me and felt a squeeze around my heart. He’s growing up soo fast! I paused, thinking about how parenthood at times feels like a series of nearly physical exertions – sometimes we push from behind, other times pull from ahead. As I drove away from the curb I glanced over at Quinn at the same moment he turned back to look at me. We both smiled.
Filed under Boys, moms, Schools
From last year’s trip to Europe.
It’s been almost 17 years since I became a parent. Impossible. When my water broke 5+ weeks before my due date, I remember feeling more excited than nervous, confident that my baby would be healthy and hearty. The unusually warm temperature (a record, it turned out) seemed a positive beacon and I went to the hospital with an easy heart and only a light sweater for warmth on a late February day.
My son’s early arrival was my first lesson in parenting and it was a bit of a challenge for me. After conceiving in my first month’s attempt and enjoying a very easy pregnancy, I was shocked to be completely lacking in control when it came to when (now!) and how (c-section) he would make his entrance. My world shifted and I scrambled to hold on.
I don’t think it is possible to predict how, or how much, having a child will change a person. Finding the balance between placing child(ren) in the center of our universe, while remembering the importance of retaining our own identities and independence demands grace and poise, not necessarily my strengths. It’s a strange thing sometimes. While I love being recognized as so-and-so’s mother, I often find myself hesitating when I sign my name on a note I’ve written to my children. Identifying myself as “Mom” still feels remarkably new, even after 17 years in the role.
Prior to becoming a parent, I had imagined all of the things I would teach my child – how to walk, speak, read, swim, travel… What I hadn’t really considered were all the things I would learn about myself from my children. I now know I can be incredibly patient, fiercely protective and relentlessly organized. On the less positive side, I’m critical, inclined to blunt sarcasm and often guilty of doing too many of the household tasks myself without demanding some effort from the boys. It’s probably a control thing.
Ultimately, though, what I find most fascinating about being a mom, is witnessing my children learn who they are as individuals. It is absolutely amazing to see the unique creatures that have been created by using the same genetic contributions. Seeing my oldest son evolve from a premature, critically ill infant into a strong and healthy young man has been remarkable. As he marks his 17th birthday, I recognize that we both began a new life that February afternoon in 1997.
If I think back on music from my childhood, The Beatles immediately come to mind. They were definitely the soundtrack of many car rides in my memory.
Freshman year of high school, I remember the painful decision of which album to pick – the Red One or the Blue One. I don’t remember which I ultimately chose. I know I loved it.
When my oldest son was born, 5+ weeks early, I didn’t have a pediatrician, nor did I know a single lullaby or nursery song. Or so I thought. Doing the new baby rock and walk, I found myself humming Beatles’ songs, sometimes even murmuring the lyrics.
My first digital camera had a memory stick that held about 8 images or a seconds long video. There was a mini movie of the oldest 2 Lilly boys singing their hearts out to Hey, Jude, including all the Judy, Judys and a perfectly timed and heartfelt “Ow.” I have no idea where that memory stick is and it doesn’t matter. I’ll never forget that moment.
My youngest child turned nine today on the very same day that marks 50 years since The Beatles invaded America. Perfect synchronicity. Quinn’s love for The Beatles is pure and relentless, just like him. He hasn’t yet tired of discussing the tragedy of George’s cancer or John’s assassination. He knows the words to countless songs and when he doesn’t, he enthusiastically makes up his own.
What remains inside of us is a wonder only second to what, in fact, comes out.
Here’s a summary of what I’ve been talking about over at my other home on the web…
I can’t believe another month has flown by! Here’s some of what I’ve been up to over at the timesunion.com.
First, there was the politics of pasta.
Then, I fell in love!
Alas, my ship sailed.
I put some pieces together.
And recognized that I couldn’t always do it myself.
But, I can drive a standard shift. Lefthanded, too.
Which is a good thing because sometimes, I want to get away from my picky-eating children.
It wasn’t my knickers that got bunched up – it was my breasts which got squeezed!
Soccer season wrapped up leaving lessons on the field that should last a lifetime.
We got more treats than tricks.
Filed under Albany, beauty, Boys, cancer, Cooking, Events, family, holidays, house, Moms@Work, politics
Here’s what was going on over at Moms@Work…
Thanks for reading. Always.