But, I am now copying an essay I wrote about my son Adam going to JMU for orientation a few years back. It involved alot of ravel and some interesting conversation... (below)
An Inch Closer
to Independence (Talking ‘bout their generation)
By D. J. Mathews
It was going to be a big day, day to meet
new people, maybe encounter a few cute coeds – for my son, that is. The news
that our son Adam, a rising senior who was third in his class at his small high
school, was accepted at a prestigious college was no surprise. Getting up at 4
a.m. to see the hotshot school was.
“Grief, it’s the middle of the night,” I
said. We were starting out for a college orientation session and the drive was
over four hours away! I was dreading the drive and the thought of his leaving
home. Then again, I would get some storage space in the house.
Adam seemed wide awake – easy to do when
you’re not the one driving – and very relaxed about this whole thing, staring
out at the stars as I pulled onto the interstate. And he came up with a topic I
never would have thought of.
“My
generation will probably live to be 500,” he proudly announced,as though we
were on some obscure, out of this world talk show.
“How would your generation manage that?” I had to ask.
“Oh, you know, Ma.”
“No, I don’t know. Give me a hint,” I said.
“Cloning. By the time I’m your age they’ll
be cloning all my organs so that I can live a much longer life.” Science had
done a lot of things in the last thirty years, when I was a young undergrad.
Mapped out the human genome. Come up with the Concorde supersonic jet. But they
still haven’t invented a ball point pen that writes upside down on a
refrigerator pad. As a computer science major maybe my son could work on that,
or how to clone a pen that writes upside down on a refrigerator. Or maybe he
could invent a time machine, so I could go back to a time of having a body
without lines and sags. But that’s a
pipe dream for sure.
Arriving at the university at 8:30, we had
to rush through the registration line, running into the administration building
to have his picture taken.
“What do you think?” he said as he held
out his new student ID. He looked like he’d been caught in a tornado; the
tornado won.
“Looks great,” I said. “I can’t wait to
show it to Dad,” he replied. But did he have to?
My parents’ packet included information
banking options, bookstore mementos and the joys of what looked like dorm rooms
the right size for a squirrel. As Adam was dragged away with an orientation
program assistant for his own special conference, I followed other middleaged adults I surmised were
parents into an auditorium so that they could discuss education options (read:
how to afford college).
At lunch time we met up at the dining hall,
which I thought would be a great moment for a thoughtful, serious conversation on what college life and the
future would bring. What commanded his thoughts? The amazing variety of food.
“We don’t have this in our cafeteria,” he
enthusiastically opined, spreading his arms out to showcase the food stations
around us. At one place you could get a hamburger with anything on it and
fries, at another several kinds of pasta; yet another have several soup
combinations. And chocolate. There was chocolate cake, chocolate cookies,
brownies, chocolate and vanilla swirled
ice-cream. Maybe that
talk could wait till later. Now it was time to sample half those desserts.
The afternoon session, while Adam and his
peers were seeing advisors and signing up for courses, we middleaged fogeys
were entertained about what college would bring for our children, and
ourselves. Some wore purple, some wore yellow and black stripes (like bees) and pretended they were surprised by their "new" children, coming home much different after only a semester at college in their leather skirts and tight jeans.
They specifically showed teens home on break
dressed in a punk look of micro mini-skirt, heavy eye makeup and spiked hair,
exerting their independence by announcing they would be home late, causing
concern for the parents, who realized they had to adjust to this strange new person.
Then they turned around and also showed teens who wanted to go home the first weekend, who
didn’t consider college their real home and were homesick right away. Being the
independent middle child, I figured Adam’s adjustment to this brave new world
of possibilities would be somewhere in-between. But as I slowly walked with him
back to the car later, I knew that as he inched toward independence, the “real”
adjustment for a student away from home would have to be mine. As I thought
about it, the adjustment would be more mine, in more ways than one. I needed
another focus.
I considered going back to
college myself.
While Adam had successfully gone through college and gotten a job using his
computer skills for a company for away, I looked at Master’s programs
close to home. After he graduated college, I decided to get back in the
academic game again and see what it was like. It was not that easy; it required
a lot of reading and preparation, which took my focus away from my sons and
gave me the opportunity to see what possibilities were out there for me. And
it’s been worth it.
Whatever I do, I know encouraging my son’s independence and (eventually)
mine, is the best thing a good mother can do.
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