Skip to main content

Chronicles of Mom, Part One - High School Junior

I spent the morning and early afternoon organizing and prepping documents for my youngest son.  He is a junior in high school and college is looming ahead.  The time went by fast.

I bought the color-coded Trapper Keeper folders to keep in the binder, trying to keep his choices down to five. It costs $30-40 to apply to just one college.  I went through his transcripts and all the classes he has taken up to now.  We had him on the "highly selective college track" which meant four years each of English, Science, Social Studies, Math, and Foreign Language.  Then since he wants to be a musical theatre/dramatic arts major, we had to block out another four years for Drama and Vocal Music Classes.  That left very little for P.E.,Health, and those other pesky requirements that we are trying to squeeze into a seven hour day.  We did not let him waste an hour with study hall and monitor his studies from home.  It is all working out.

We met with his college counselor, despite him having two parents with five degrees and both with careers in higher education, so she could explain to him the importance of junior year.  My husband and I talked to our son for the past two years about how important all his classes were but about how critical his junior year would be to his future success.  Thankfully, he is taking it all to heart.

There are those classes he didn't like or didn't do well because he and the teacher clashed, I reminded him that we have all had that one instructor or professor who rubbed us the wrong way, to not let that deter him from doing his best.  This year, I am loving him and enjoying watching this transformation in him as something snapped for him mentally and emotionally.  He gets it.

It all brought me to the point of knowing the seven years I spent at home were not in vain.  Even with the side teaching and working in the summer, my primary profession has been mom.  It has gone by fast.

I would not call myself a helicopter mom, I do not sit in on his classes or try to act like his friends to seem "cool" even though I am pretty young-spirited.  I have tried to guide him through and navigate the waters called high school so he could then chart his own course once he hit college.

We also realized early on that this kid is pretty smart as well as talented.  He has performed in musicals, plays, and had keyboard recitals.  At the same time, he is exceptionally good in math and almost just as good in science, even if he doesn't like science as much as he likes math.  He is just a good mix.

I thought about it all and how much teenagers really need their parents to be there, to show up, and to listen. My husband and/or I have not missed a parent/teacher conference for any of our children.  We always check grades online and communicate with the teachers.  For the high schooler, we made sure the high school knew that we were outlining his course selection and would have him sign up for those challenging classes.

Yesterday as his first conference of junior year.  He is making excellent grades.  It was refreshing to talk to teachers who had him as a freshman and were watching him as a scholar, gentleman, and actor as a junior.  He is impressive.  He had to grow up and while he is nine months younger than his school mates, just needed us to be a little patient while he finished catching up.  Now, at sixteen, he is on the pace I always knew was part of his DNA.

My son is also in an upcoming musical and just auditioned for a play in early 2011.  He has made some key decisions in terms of his time and what will guide him to the future he wants - on stage.

Someone asked me why we were so involved with him since he is a junior.  I said because he still needs us.  We can not give up and just be exhausted.  Too many talented kids have been lost because their parents thought they didn't have to do anything once they made it to high school. I certainly see that with some of the kids at my son's school.  Now, I show up, my husband shows up because we know what is at stake.

It took a long time to cross reference the different schools and write out three scenarios for senior year classes.  It too, just like junior year, will be here before we know it.

I am going to blink and we will be loading up the van, pointing it in a direction, and drive him off to his future.  It is with that in mind that I try to be available and accessible to him, to his sisters, why the last seven years have been worth all the sacrifice.

My son never got into any trouble, beyond just missing homework or being disorganized at home.  He has always been polite and respectful.  He didn't get involved in disruptive behavior and has surrounded himself with a good group of friends.  His girlfriend passed the "sister test" and seems to share the same ambitions.  Neither of them have distractions like sex or kids on their minds, they seem to understand the importance of these years and that high school is just a blip on their life radar.  They know they have time.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Hannah's Song

We came together last night and sang Hannah's song. Family from California was in town, it was the night before Aunt Hannah's Home Going Celebration. We met at my house late in the evening to fellowship, remember, hug, eat, and laugh. Thom felt the love in the room and I'm sure his mom would've appreciated us doing what she did all her life - love. Aunt Hannah was a gracious woman. Her gentle spirit, sparkling eyes, and constant smile will be remembered. She has left us physically, but never spiritually. The laughter was like music in Thom's ear. For the first time in weeks I saw my cousin relax. He has been in a tornado for the past four weeks from his mother's diagnosis to her death. Even in her final stage, Aunt Hannah was granted her desire. She asked to not suffer long when it was her time to go, she had been a caregiver her whole life and I'm sure her prayer was for her son. In the last days of her life, she still greeted well wishers with a wa...

Brothers, Can we Talk?

 I'm a Black woman, born of a Black woman and a Black man. When my mother died, it was my father who nurtured me and instilled in me a sense of pride of self, of my race, of my abilities to do whatever I put my mind to do. He never imposed limitations on me as a Black woman. The only caution he ever gave me was to not burn my candle at both ends and to be mindful of my health, I am an asthmatic. He never stopped me from trying anything and always encouraged me. Daddy was a strong Black man who introduced me to Shirley Chisholm when I was a little girl. He reminded me of the fortitude of my late mother's quest for gender equality in the workplace and of the namesake who marched at Selma.  He is the one who gave me my pseudonym, Tayé. Daddy was a strong tower of empowerment and fought all the way to his last breath for social, gender, and racial justice. It is in remembering my father this morning that I'm asking the brothers, can we talk? What is it, especially those of my g...

Ashes to Ashes

 This is Ash Wednesday. For a lot of Catholics and Anglican Christians, it begins the holy season of Lent. We remember we are but dust and to dust we return, ashes to ashes.  It is a somber reminder of our humanity and the finality of life. We are a mere breath. Today, as a Hospital Chaplain Resident, I am imposing ashes on patients, family, and staff. It is a visible marker of a shared faith and belief. We look with anticipation to the finished work of salvation on the cross and in eager hope of the resurrection. As my day progressed, I noticed how much hope was in the eyes of the ones giving and receiving this reminder of our existence. It was both a somber moment and a joyful moment. Two things can exist at the same time. Like the world we find ourselves in. Even as it seems like the darkest, certainly the darkest I’ve known in my six decades on this earth. Completely imperfect as a nation, there was still a glimmer of light until the nightmare became reality. We wonder abo...