Destination Anywhere

Back to reality, and even more so for some.

My eldest son is a junior in high school, with all the highs and lows of that year seemingly crashing down on him at once. He has his driver's license, a written agreement between himself and us detailing car usage and payments for insurance and gas, and the resulting increase in delicious freedom and frightening responsibility. He's already dealing with the financial and family consequences of a minor fender-bender. After I said Thank God you're OK and so is the other guy, I wanted to kill him.Instead, I had him deal with it.

He's always done just enough schoolwork to get himself a B+ average, despite our urging him to apply himself more and rise to his abilities and our expectations. Now, as he looks at colleges and sees how competetive the application process is, he's finally putting that extra hour into studying for math tests. He's almost 17, and is worried because he really isn't sure yet what to major in. Maybe Engineering. Maybe Management, maybe Computer Science, maybe Political Sceince. You don't need to make that decision yet, we say. And yet as we look at college applications, we see that if he does in fact need to apply to the college of Engineering at many of the universities he's considering. He's taking his first stab at the SAT this weekend, and my laid-back, laconic son is terrified.

I promise him it'll all work out, that decisions and results he makes at 17 are fluid, and not responsible for the rest of his life. But when the guidance counselor, his friends, the well-meaning mother of a friend he runs into at the store, and his parents all seem to be watching, pressuring, and tugging him along--I sometimes want to fold him back into my arms, pretend he's three again and Mommy can make it all better for him. But it's time for him to make his own dreams, missteps, and forays out into the world, and I can only step back and wave.

The past two weeks at school we've been exploring a unit we do each year called Finding Another Way. It began as an age-appropriate way to let young children become comfortable with people who have physical or mental challenges, but it's evolved into something even deeper.

I start the unit by introducing a stuffed bird named George. George is very confused as he looks at the children at Circle. How do you get places without wings? The children excitedly tell him they they can walk, or run, or ride in a car, or use a bike. How do you eat without a beak, asks George. We can use our mouths, hands, forks, spoons. As the conversation unfolds, we talk about how everyone does things differently, and that's OK. There are many different ways to help ourselves, solve problems, or use tools to help.

As the children play, they are given many opportunities and experiences in using Helping Tools. We have child-sized wheelchairs the children can use, we pretend to go to the doctor, read an eye chart, and make pretend glasses. A teacher shows her hearing aid. Children find different ways to reach something out of their reach--stand on a big block, use a reaching tool, ask a taller person to help. Heavy items are in the classroom that children cannot move by themselves, so they need to help each other. We find different ways to use and move our bodies. We read the book The Big Orange Splot, which ends with the formerly uniform houses on a street being painted to look all different and beautiful; and then children each create their unique house.

I love Thomas Jefferson. He wrote volumes and volumes, and if you can pick apart the lengthy posturing and wandering subjects, there are some gems to ponder.

"With the same honest views, the most honest men often form different conclusions." --Thomas Jefferson to Robert Livingston, 1801

Applying to and getting into college these days is more science than art. With so many kids applying, parents, teens, and those who prey on their fears tend to enter into a whirlwind of anxiety and angst during Junior year, and many well before that. I saw several terrifying books in the library promoting intensive four-year plans for college admission that would put a marketing genius to shame. There are simply too many college-bound kids, and not enough spaces in the popular colleges.

I have a middle-of-the-road kid. The B+ average in high-level classes, decent test scores, and state champion Mock Trial team membership make him just one among thousands. He writes extremely well, likes History, does well enough in math, and hates Chemistry. He's not terribly ambitious at this point, and really has no grand plan for his future. Maybe Business, maybe Political Science or Law, maybe Engineering or Computer Science. In short, a typical 17 year old. I'm a firm believer in letting career and personal goals unfold as they do naturally, and hold no patience with those who proclaim that the four years one spends in which college will determine future happiness. That said, it is obvious that each kid needs to find a place that is a good match for them personally and academically.

To help Dan try to whittle down choices, we spent a few days visiting a variety of colleges, mostly in the Pennsylvania area.We were mostly focusing on "type" to see what sort of environment appeals, as a way to explore what sorts of schools to actually apply to.

Here's some shots from the University of Pittsburgh.