Remember college? I do. And remember that I have an awesome dad? Then and now? So back in the day in the spring of my senior year in HS, my dad took me in to the university registrar’s office (and there’s a long story about the registrar, and how my Grandma Jennie would have rather liked it if my mom had married him instead of my dad, but wouldn’t that have been weird?) and my dad helped my choose my classes. Was that the second-longest sentence ever written? But only the fourth-worst, so we’re fine. Carrying on. So Dad helped me pick out my classes. Which was awesome. If by “awesome” you mean “deeply overscheduled” and “loving to start the college day with 8:00 am classes” and “good luck keeping that scholarship.”
So, awesome. Natch.
We (we, right?) signed me up for 3 Honors classes and one upper-level Spanish class (which I got out of within the week because although I understood it all, I couldn’t speak nearly as well as everyone else in the class, who all managed to have lived for at least 18 months in a spanish-speaking country – alas, I should have stayed). I had tested out of freshman English (don’t be too surprised) so I ended up in a 200-level honors English class. Which was awesome, if by awesome you mean awesome. My professor, whose name I can’t remember (but don’t worry, she doesn’t remember me either) took us to see films at the sticky-floored Scera theatre. She brought us to her home once. She read our good papers out loud and offered kind comments. Once she read one of mine. I glowed for days. That was a good experience. It made me want to be a teacher. Or a university professor. Or at least hang out with other people who loved words and films and popcorn.
(Which I do.)
At the end of that Freshman year, I waved goodbye to my scholarship and learned to choose my own classes. And to limit the number of Honors classes to two. Or maybe one. And to not do homework on Sunday, which leads to strange matters of time-space continuation in which there is enough time during the week to get it all in. And I learned to lighten up, academically speaking. Undergrad university is a long 4 years. Sometimes much, much longer. You don’t have to stuff it all in at once. Because among all the learnings and stretchings, there should be some fun parts.
Which leads me to my point. I helped Kid 2 choose her schedule yesterday. The schedule for her freshman year in high school. And I pointed out the seriously awesome options of AP this and Honors that, and then I said, “But you know, high school is a long 4 years. I hope you can be happy to spread it around a little. Have some fun. Give yourself time to play.” (I meant play the violin, but she heard what she wanted to hear.) And she chose some Honors. And some art. And some music. And some drama. (I know.) And there will be time to fit it all in.
Even the fun parts.
—
And now, because you just NEED it, today’s Haiku.
Toast
Wheat, homemade, buttered.
Crunchy out, chewy inside,
You make me happy.
(14) Comments for this blog
My son gets his papers for registration today. He wants to take a ton of a.p. classes. I’m a little worried for him.
My son gets his papers for registration today. He wants to take a ton of a.p. classes. I’m a little worried for him.
It never ends. Well, that’s not entirely true. My son, at age 23, has finally stopped asking for my help in choosing classes. But they all come to me to help them find balance, which, when you consider my constant teetering one way or another, is very sad!
It never ends. Well, that’s not entirely true. My son, at age 23, has finally stopped asking for my help in choosing classes. But they all come to me to help them find balance, which, when you consider my constant teetering one way or another, is very sad!
I love this…this learning that spans generations like that. And what a powerful lesson she’ll some day derive from your good advice. That there really can be time for all of it in life. Even and especially the fun parts.
I love this…this learning that spans generations like that. And what a powerful lesson she’ll some day derive from your good advice. That there really can be time for all of it in life. Even and especially the fun parts.
You know, I would like to think if I could do it over I would do a better job with my freshman year. But I think I am lying to myself. LOL
You would be a great professor.
You know, I would like to think if I could do it over I would do a better job with my freshman year. But I think I am lying to myself. LOL
You would be a great professor.
I think when we’re younger we can’t get ahead fast enough, then we age and realize we wish we had taken more time to get there and enjoy the journey.
Wise advise to your daughter. (Hugs)Indigo
I think when we’re younger we can’t get ahead fast enough, then we age and realize we wish we had taken more time to get there and enjoy the journey.
Wise advise to your daughter. (Hugs)Indigo
Your first semester sounds a lot like my first semester — and, imagine this, I did it all on my own. I’m still not quite sure exactly what I was thinking.
I took an upper-level French course taught by a Moroccan woman whose pronunciation was so different from what I was used to that I was three weeks in (in a 5 days a week, 8 AM class) before I even figured out that the word she’d been saying from day one was French for “girl”. Yeah. A real tough one. And why didn’t someone tell me what add-drop meant before it was too late to actually take advantage? Oh, well. It’s not as though my pride would have allowed me to, actually, take advantage.
And that scholarship? Held onto by the skin of my teeth.
Your first semester sounds a lot like my first semester — and, imagine this, I did it all on my own. I’m still not quite sure exactly what I was thinking.
I took an upper-level French course taught by a Moroccan woman whose pronunciation was so different from what I was used to that I was three weeks in (in a 5 days a week, 8 AM class) before I even figured out that the word she’d been saying from day one was French for “girl”. Yeah. A real tough one. And why didn’t someone tell me what add-drop meant before it was too late to actually take advantage? Oh, well. It’s not as though my pride would have allowed me to, actually, take advantage.
And that scholarship? Held onto by the skin of my teeth.
Nothing is better than toast
Homemade and crunchy
Invite me over!
Nothing is better than toast
Homemade and crunchy
Invite me over!