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Watch out College Process

You know how it is with the first one. You walk around with sanitizer 24/7, ban sugar consumption and delude yourself that you can protect your progeny from all evil. Number Two is a different story.

Number Two is applying to college this fall and since I still have lingering post-traumatic stress disorder from Number One’s senior year, she’s now a college sophomore, I’m heading into this terrain with a brand new mindset.

Last time I absorbed, inhaled and feared the massive amounts of information headed my way. From college nights, websites, computer match-ups, articles and other parents proclaiming they knew better, the process owned us. This year I vow to:

1. Ignore the college tsunami of information. For every truism that was out there I could hold up examples that negate it. Lesson: Mind your own business and schools fill up with many different kinds of students and yes some of it is not fair. So, if you want to give a reach school a try, why not, it’s only money and keep your checkbook open.
2. Hand the reins to Number Two. During round one, I was too involved. I enjoy my sanity too much for that to happen again.
3. Keep my mouth sealed. Remember naming your baby? Everyone wants to know your choice and then they will tell you what they really think. There is so much more to consider in choosing a college than impressing others, like programs, grants and distance. So you won’t have to ask when we meet in the supermarket: “My Second is not going to Harvard.” The 5 percent acceptance rate got in the way.
4. Not spend my year in fear. Go through the process once and the curtain has been revealed. Colleges play games like sending out free applications as a ploy to lower their acceptance rate so they place better in the rankings race which is so flawed that’s another article. The lesson here is that colleges are harboring their own fears, managing a business to pay for rock walls and group study rooms. The hype is everywhere, so remember they need you just as much as you think you need them.
5. Demand more for my money. From a recent Washington Post article: “…everyone, except for the super wealthy, is having a hard time paying for college. Tuition has risen faster than the rate of inflation. Wages certainly have not kept pace with the costs of college, neither has any form of financial aid.” Enough said.
6. Like my child. When child Number One went off to college; I was too exhausted to enjoy many of the milestones.
7. Develop a new kind of kitty litter with college mail. I threw this one in to make sure you were paying attention!

If there is anything I learned during this process two years ago is that shedding the pomp and circumstance of finding “the perfect school” is an absolute necessity. You may believe one school will set your child on the correct path but there is no school that will magically achieve this. This is your child’s job and whether you see it in them already or you’re still waiting, this is what we all should get worked up about – helping them build the skills to succeed. Deciding on a college is just the beginning!

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/92574222@N00/5427517501″>The Fighter</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> <a href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/”>(license)</a>

“Men have become the tools of their tools.” – Henry David Thoreau

I’ve adapted to technology but I do recall a time where documenting every restaurant meal, new haircut or your pet’s cone of shame would have put you in the minority. In those days, I survived and thrived, and sometimes in the wee hours of the night or when I’m facing the “beach ball of death” on my Mac I wish someone would take me back to a place where I don’t have to see these messages:

1. “Safari Can’t Find Your Server” – My MacBook has aged or maybe it’s my internet provider who is going through their own midlife crisis, thanks Netflix, but whatever the reason this message keep popping up on my computer: “Safari can’t find your Server.” If there’s been a “server” in my house and if this “server” is hiding I implore you to come out. I can assure you that you will be a welcome addition to my world and as long as my meals are lukewarm, but served to me, I will be elated.
2. “You Haven’t Logged Your Dinner” – The year I paid for the Weight Watchers app would have been better spent on a pair of leather boots. I attempted to reach lifetime membership but I broke up with their app and downloaded My Fitness Pal for free. The point is to track your meals and I often lose steam by dinner. I now receive alerts telling me that I haven’t logged in dinner. Well, maybe I’d like to keep that to myself. Perhaps I don’t want to share that I inhaled 50 pistachio nuts or smothered artisanal cheese on a rosemary, olive baguette before dinner so ponder that the next time you stalk me for my dinner log!
3. “Storage Is Full” – My Iphone is on the way out since upgrades are stolen from you in the middle of the night in my household. “Storage is Full” when I attempt to take a photo of the dog looking cute or the dress I’m considering purchasing, events I would never dream of documenting when photos carried some import. So now it’s not just my kitchen cabinets that need to be decluttered.
4. Facebook Notifications – I’m a magnet for folks who tell me their secrets in store lines, various offices and when I’m trying to buy a pair of shoes but it’s the endless oversharing of happiness on Facebook that puts me on edge. I’m happy you are happy but please let’s have some balance here – either mess up your hair in some of those pics or let us in on the secret that you don’t really know all those good looking people!
5. “You’ve Got Mail” – I’ve never been a numbers person, so AOL stop counting how many emails are sitting in the account I escaped from by creating a new account that I attempt to keep under 500. If you’ve just asked me for my email because you are a manning the register at Ace Hardware I’m sorry I responded as though you asked me for my kidney.

So before “Big Brother” was a reality TV show, this omnipotent force introduced by George Orwell spooked me. Fretfully I have to advise that the time has come and the “server” I never met has been abducted, I’m now forced to report what I had for dinner, Marie Kondo lives in my phone, happy perky people have invaded the planet and if I open one email a day I might catch up before the “beach ball of death” stops spinning!

On becoming what you need…

For as long as I can remember, my brother wandered. He never sat but paced back and forth, so it made sense that he followed his sense of wanderlust. Yet, I secretly knew he wasn’t just someone who loved to travel and see new places. He also didn’t possess the naiveté of a tourist, who shared photos of their journeys, and allowed yearly vacations to fill photo albums. No, he was moving, pacing, thinking and trying to outpace his desire to change his past – but he knew all too well there was no way back.

My brother’s father died when he was three. When you lose a parent that early you lose a piece of yourself as well. It’s not just the isolation of knowing that your friends have two parents but the knowledge that you will never share an ice cream cone with your Dad, have him teach you to ride a bike or have the chance to stare at his angered face when you dent his car. The years of adoration, rebellion and gift of loving acceptance were never an option for him. The senseless arbitrary unfairness of life ushered him to keep moving. This roving, sensitive brother of mine became my idol and in an ironic twist a second father. I saw the missing piece he yearned for, very early on, as he shared his love of books and reading and mocked my taste in music.

Ours was a little universe of broken pieces. After his father’s death, my mother married my father and my twin sister and I were born. Ten years our senior, he was a babysitter and antagonized us with endless tickling. Years later, he brought me on my only college tour and advocated for me to make a better college choice. He took my sister and me to museums and the beach and although he sometimes forgot to feed us he nourished us with the outside world. He somehow knew what we needed and threw pillows at my sister and let me browse through his books. When our family suffered the untimely death of my mother when he was 21 and we were 11, he left for graduate school in California. Postcards filled us in on his travels which led him to cities across the U.S. and ultimately Europe. He traveled forward and in the past, finding long lost relatives and becoming the keeper of memories and old family photographs.

An aunt once advised me that there was too much pain for him here and he felt the need to flee but I knew, at the ripe age of 11, standing in his room weeping at my concurrent losses, and gazing at his Don Quixote poster that he possessed what he was searching for. He had already gifted it to me and when he had his children the light went on again. As a new father, he balanced sensitivity with warding off worry. He was a kind and gentle father to his children when they were young but avoided hovering, knowing all too well the need to build resiliency. He lovingly continues to share his love of travel, photography, food and life. Fathers come in all shapes and sizes and though he was my brother, he was a beacon of light for me – precipitated by the light that went out for him too early in his own life.

This is for all the folks who have rejected my children, whether deserved or a biased assessment, I’d like to express my gratitude.   My kids accuse me of bragging about the hoops I jumped through during my childhood and though it was a different world theirs is far too easy sometimes. To truly develop skills to become an adult, rejection is a necessary evil. Starting as early as grade school through high school, here are some rejections I’m thankful for:

• The Dreaded Cut – Thanks for allowing my child to see that sometimes you’re just not good enough or sometimes you should make the cut but for reasons beyond your control the spot was not yours for the taking. Picking up the pieces is what life is all about. Most kids are able to assess their performance honestly and this is a prime time to “talk.” I once heard one of my children say, “What can I do, sometimes life isn’t fair.” A great and necessary lesson to which I added, “One person does not define you.” There’s so much value in acknowledging you may have to work harder, accepting that the tides won’t always go your way or choosing another path.

• The Friendship Dump –  I’ve found that friendships that last are often developed in middle or even high school. Hanging out with your friends’ children may work but beware kids often move on and develop their own friendships. Don’t be surprised if your child is dumped or your child does the dumping. I’ve witnessed this with both my children.  I worried but in the end I’d like to say thanks. When you lose friends, you become more empathetic and open-minded to others. This is also a prime time to teach sensitivity.

• Losing & Failing – These are not textbook rejections, but still disappointments that make kids feel inferior. If your child is winning all the time, that’s a problem. My sister and I played cards often when we were growing up and she was always won. It was irritating but it was just not my thing. Losing allows you to learn about yourself, your capabilities and skills. Let’s talk about grades. First of all no child should have their self-esteem tied into their academic performance or any activity. Secondly, you don’t want them to fall into the trap of expecting perfection all the time. So what if your child always earns a 100? Praise them for their hard work and find appropriate challenges for them. Believe me this child won’t always achieve perfection and you don’t want their world to implode when it happens.

I’ve been thinking about the importance of rejection because the focus on performance in my suburban town is seismic. I’ve also been reading stories of college suicides. These are students blessed with outsized talent who feel stuck in a maze of high performance. These actions represent a small percentage but there’s a larger majority of teens, college students and young adults who face disabling anxiety because they are in a race to keep up with unrealistic standards.

Don’t swoop in to fix every taxing situation your child faces.  I say bring on the rejection, the nepotism, the losses, and failures – and once again thanks to those for those rejections!