Christmastime Questions

Remember when yearbooks had captions like "Most likely to succeed?" Today, students are awarded more modern honors like "Best Tweeter." Kids campaign for these prizes and results were recently announced.

Apparently, one of my daughter's oldest friends, also a high school senior, was robbed! 

I've known this lovely young lady since ... well, since she was born. Today, by all accounts, she is a proficient — and prolific — Twitter poster. (She also wears a penguin costume when she goes on vacation. Really. But, that's another story for another time.) Over Christmas break, she tweeted this:

"If I had a dollar for everyone who asks me where I'm going to college, I'd have enough money to go to college."

We know how she feels.

At our annual tree-trimming party last week, we were concerned that our hyperactive new puppy would be underfoot (or up a tree). My daughter immediately stepped in and offered to take him for long walks, to the dog park, and to visit her grandmother (my daughter's, not the dog's). I was impressed. This seemed like a very mature and selfless thing to do.

Then I realized that she saw it as a win-win.

The dog would be contained (and entertained). In fact, she suggested bringing him back to the house for a few minutes every hour so people could meet him. We may have nicknamed him "Spawn of Satan" (we're on rug repair number two right now), but he's also absolutely adorable and affectionate. But, being out of the house would be better all around. 

Meanwhile, my daughter would have a perfect excuse to dodge what has become a positive barrage of questions about the C-word.

College.

No one's fault, really. She's eighteen; she's a high school senior. It's the end of December. The oh-so-logical query on every grownup's lips is ...

"Where are you going to college?"

There are variations, naturally. "Do you know where you're going?" is a common, casual version. 

"What are you doing next year?" is more politically-correct; after all, not every kid goes to a traditional four-year school. 

Then, there are the more enlightened adults who preface their interrogation with an apology ... "I'm sure you're tired of hearing this ..." or "You probably don't want to talk about this ..." or even "Sorry, can I ask ...?" 

And, they proceed anyway.

So, dog-sitting was a smart dodge on my daughter's part. 

I, meanwhile, am happy to brag about her accomplishments. She's been accepted at three of the four schools to which she's applied — and awarded generous merit scholarships. ("See?" I tell her, smugly, "All that hard work paid off!" Cue: eye roll.) 'Not sure what's holding up the final one; oddly enough, it was the least competitive of the bunch. Regardless, she's narrowed it to two, and week after next, we'll be visiting one of them to try and get closer to a decision.

She's quick to remind me that she has until May to make up her mind. And, despite my own impatience, we are heading into 2016 with exciting options. Graduation, summer vacation and first semester freshman year will be here before we know it. While I look forward to knowing what she decides, I don't want to rush any of it.

Besides, I can probably think of other things to do while I wait.

Like training the new puppy.

If you've enjoyed this post, I invite you to order the book Lovin' the Alien here. 

A Long, Slow Look at College Decisions

Often I see glimpses of my husband in our teenage daughter. Her natural athletic ability, for example. Her sense of humor. How fast she drives. Some of these attributes are good and some ... not so much. Some make me pull my hair out. 

But, I digress.

Other times, I see myself in her. I take pride in her creative writing, in her diligence and determination. Her obsessive appetite for particular TV programs. Sadly, she's inherited my sweet tooth as well. 

But, again, I digress.

Then, there are situations in which I watch her and think "Who are you?" and "How can we possibly be related?" 

We're going through one of those now as she hones in on the college decision that she'll (and we'll) be living with for the next four years.

When I was a senior, my college prep counselor (who knew me btw; he was one of my math teachers) took a look at my transcript and my SATs, asked what I wanted to major in, and made a single suggestion. "Tufts has a great drama program and they love early decision applicants." I went, I saw, I applied. They said, "Yes." I said, "Yes." And we were done. Signed, sealed, delivered before Christmas my senior year. One thing, one very big thing, crossed off my list.

This was 1979, and early decision was still a fairly new idea. Forget about all its modern permutations: early action, rolling admissions, restrictive early action (WTF?), as well as plain old vanilla regular decision. 

Everything is much more complicated nowadays, although with most schools accepting the "Common App," there's a lot less paperwork. Still, it's mid-December and a compulsive young person (such as myself 35 years ago) can already know where she or he will be going.

Not my daughter.

She applied to just four colleges (less than most of her peers in our high-achieving little town; her very focused intended course of study made the universe much smaller). Her applications were complete in late October, neatly within any early action or rolling deadlines. She was almost immediately accepted into two schools, which happened to be her first choices, at the time. I say, "at the time," because times have already changed. Now, we're waiting to hear from the other two. And, my daughter (not a particularly patient young woman under normal circumstances) seems perfectly content to wait.

I would be pulling my hair out! 

Don't get me wrong, I completely understand — and even support — my daughter's thoughtful consideration during this important time of change and choice. After all, chances are she will spend a substantial chunk of her formative young adult years at whatever fine institution of higher learning she chooses. Then there's all the associated fallout: friends and significant others, where you live and what you do. I have never attended a Tufts reunion, but my decision to go there affects my life every day.

Nevertheless, my seventeen-year-old self was way too eager to debate, contemplate, ruminate or meditate (Hmmm ... I seem to have missed my calling as a middle-aged white rapper). My daughter is taking her time.

She has an equestrian scholarship application due tomorrow, but no other paperwork or tests to worry about. In essence, the admissions ball is not in her court at the moment. Once she hears from her other two schools, we may have to do some additional campus visiting (bake-off style, perhaps). But, there's no rush.

You see, she has until May to make her decision.

I just hope I can last that long. 

If you've enjoyed this post, I invite you to order the book Lovin' the Alien here.