College Reflection
My cousin, Brittany, leaves for college today. She's attending a branch campus of a large state school about an hour from our hometown. My aunt left a facebook post last night about having the car all packed and ready to go to take her to school and it got me thinking about my trip to Duquesne and how that moment impacted my life.
Looking back, I was so, so young. I was only 17 1/2 when I left for Duquesne University. I thought I was ancient though. What's even scarier than how young I was is how young my parents were. They were just a few months older than I am right now. *insert shudder sequence here* That's right folks. Two babies dropped off their first born baby at college. I don't remember much about the whole process of getting ready to go to school. I mean, I remember picking out a new bedspread, contacting my roommate to see what appliances and other important items we would be bringing. Good grief - when I started my Freshman year, personal computers were just starting to become popular and laptops were basically unheard of. Our dorm rooms didn't have internet (and the computer lab only had dial up connections). We thought word processors were the height of affordable technology! But I don't remember very much about the actual drop off procedure. I'm sure it was a combination of my dad getting ticked at the traffic in Pittsburgh, at having to wait on the bottom floor of my co-ed dorm (don't worry - a good catholic school separates their freshman dorm by floors. Girls get the bottom six, boys the top six) to get an elevator to get my stuff to the dorm room, at all the seminars and paper work we had to fill out the first day. My mom probably fussed too much and I probably got irritated with her , you know, being the big grown up that I was at 17 1/2, and said inappropriately mean things to her. I do very much remember standing at the steps outside of St. Martin's - the ones that went between the tennis courts and led to parking and the walkway out of the campus and saying goodbye to my parents. My mom hugged me and kissed me and told me she loved me with tears in her eyes, which cut my defenses. Then my dad, in a rare display of affection, hugged me and said, "Love you, girl," which brought home the realization that I was being left alone in a big city on a campus where I knew absolutely no one, had no connections, no one to care for me, protect me or help me make my decisions.
I watched them walk off towards their car wanting so much to run after them and tell them that I was still a little girl and they should not leave me here after all. I felt homesick before they even reached their car! But there was a larger part of me that knew it was time for me to march back into St. Martin's and get ready for the Freshman Mixer and tackle head on the future that was waiting for me. I cried a little bit but put on a brave face and participated in all the Freshman Orientation activities that night and the rest of the week. I strolled campus, found my classrooms (not so hard to do on a campus that encompasses only 5 city blocks) and felt good about being a "college girl."
Looking back, it's funny how so much time was spent in classrooms, learning and preparing for my career, yet here I sit (up way too late at night) thinking about how it was every thing but the stuff I learned in the classroom that has prepared me for where I am today to be who I am today. And I think about Brittany, and how she has so much fun and excitement waiting ahead for her and how at this moment, she is probably so scared and confused. Because going to college isn't just about going to a new school. Going to college is about starting a new life. Childhood is gone and while I don't think anyone consciously thinks of it that way - let's face it, by the time your 18 year old self heads off to college, you've already thought of yourself as an "adult" for a few months now - it is what happens. When your parents drop you off and turn and walk away from you, that little child inside of you panics for just a little bit - no matter how ready you are to be an adult and start your life.
17 years ago, I left my childhood behind and walked through the glass doors of St. Martin into my adult hood. I may have a few regrets here and there, but I trust that every single second has led me to where I am today. Through all of those ups and downs I have found the passions and purpose that God laid out for me at my creation.
Brittany - I don't know if you will read this or not, but if you do, enjoy every single second of what you are doing - even if you are crying into your pillow because you are homesick! Every moment is a lesson, is a chance at something new, is a gift. It may take a long time to understand what exactly the gift of this precise moment is, but before you know it, 17 years will have flown by. The fashions you thought you had left behind in your teens will be back in style (and you'll wonder why they are bringing leggings back again!?) and if you are as smart as I know you are, you remember this first day of college thankful for everything this opportunity brings you good or bad, because it was the beginning of all of the moments that will lead you to the happiest times in your life.
It may seem silly, but this verse from the song "Letter to Me" by Brad Paisley always gives me chills:
You've got so much up ahead
You'll make new friends
You should see your kids and wife
And I'd end by saying have no fear
These are nowhere near the best years of your life
I remember leaving high school thinking that my best days were behind me, but they weren't. Each day I wake up knowing that today is the best day of my life.
And it was all because I walked back up those concrete steps between the tennis courts and through those heavy glass doors of St. Martin's dormitory by myself to start my new adult life. If you had told me 17 years ago where I'd be now, the life I'd be living, I would have laughed until my sides ached (or I may have cried in horror) but here I sit 17 years later, thankful that young, innocent girl had the guts to move away from home and pursue her dreams. Because in her wildest dreams, she would have never imagined being so happy and so loved - that all of her dreams really would come true.
Looking back, I was so, so young. I was only 17 1/2 when I left for Duquesne University. I thought I was ancient though. What's even scarier than how young I was is how young my parents were. They were just a few months older than I am right now. *insert shudder sequence here* That's right folks. Two babies dropped off their first born baby at college. I don't remember much about the whole process of getting ready to go to school. I mean, I remember picking out a new bedspread, contacting my roommate to see what appliances and other important items we would be bringing. Good grief - when I started my Freshman year, personal computers were just starting to become popular and laptops were basically unheard of. Our dorm rooms didn't have internet (and the computer lab only had dial up connections). We thought word processors were the height of affordable technology! But I don't remember very much about the actual drop off procedure. I'm sure it was a combination of my dad getting ticked at the traffic in Pittsburgh, at having to wait on the bottom floor of my co-ed dorm (don't worry - a good catholic school separates their freshman dorm by floors. Girls get the bottom six, boys the top six) to get an elevator to get my stuff to the dorm room, at all the seminars and paper work we had to fill out the first day. My mom probably fussed too much and I probably got irritated with her , you know, being the big grown up that I was at 17 1/2, and said inappropriately mean things to her. I do very much remember standing at the steps outside of St. Martin's - the ones that went between the tennis courts and led to parking and the walkway out of the campus and saying goodbye to my parents. My mom hugged me and kissed me and told me she loved me with tears in her eyes, which cut my defenses. Then my dad, in a rare display of affection, hugged me and said, "Love you, girl," which brought home the realization that I was being left alone in a big city on a campus where I knew absolutely no one, had no connections, no one to care for me, protect me or help me make my decisions.
I watched them walk off towards their car wanting so much to run after them and tell them that I was still a little girl and they should not leave me here after all. I felt homesick before they even reached their car! But there was a larger part of me that knew it was time for me to march back into St. Martin's and get ready for the Freshman Mixer and tackle head on the future that was waiting for me. I cried a little bit but put on a brave face and participated in all the Freshman Orientation activities that night and the rest of the week. I strolled campus, found my classrooms (not so hard to do on a campus that encompasses only 5 city blocks) and felt good about being a "college girl."
Looking back, it's funny how so much time was spent in classrooms, learning and preparing for my career, yet here I sit (up way too late at night) thinking about how it was every thing but the stuff I learned in the classroom that has prepared me for where I am today to be who I am today. And I think about Brittany, and how she has so much fun and excitement waiting ahead for her and how at this moment, she is probably so scared and confused. Because going to college isn't just about going to a new school. Going to college is about starting a new life. Childhood is gone and while I don't think anyone consciously thinks of it that way - let's face it, by the time your 18 year old self heads off to college, you've already thought of yourself as an "adult" for a few months now - it is what happens. When your parents drop you off and turn and walk away from you, that little child inside of you panics for just a little bit - no matter how ready you are to be an adult and start your life.
17 years ago, I left my childhood behind and walked through the glass doors of St. Martin into my adult hood. I may have a few regrets here and there, but I trust that every single second has led me to where I am today. Through all of those ups and downs I have found the passions and purpose that God laid out for me at my creation.
Brittany - I don't know if you will read this or not, but if you do, enjoy every single second of what you are doing - even if you are crying into your pillow because you are homesick! Every moment is a lesson, is a chance at something new, is a gift. It may take a long time to understand what exactly the gift of this precise moment is, but before you know it, 17 years will have flown by. The fashions you thought you had left behind in your teens will be back in style (and you'll wonder why they are bringing leggings back again!?) and if you are as smart as I know you are, you remember this first day of college thankful for everything this opportunity brings you good or bad, because it was the beginning of all of the moments that will lead you to the happiest times in your life.
It may seem silly, but this verse from the song "Letter to Me" by Brad Paisley always gives me chills:
You've got so much up ahead
You'll make new friends
You should see your kids and wife
And I'd end by saying have no fear
These are nowhere near the best years of your life
I remember leaving high school thinking that my best days were behind me, but they weren't. Each day I wake up knowing that today is the best day of my life.
And it was all because I walked back up those concrete steps between the tennis courts and through those heavy glass doors of St. Martin's dormitory by myself to start my new adult life. If you had told me 17 years ago where I'd be now, the life I'd be living, I would have laughed until my sides ached (or I may have cried in horror) but here I sit 17 years later, thankful that young, innocent girl had the guts to move away from home and pursue her dreams. Because in her wildest dreams, she would have never imagined being so happy and so loved - that all of her dreams really would come true.
My Sensitive Soul
As first grade approaches, I've been struggling with what I assume are normal worries about what is going to happen when Walker gets on that bus in September.
What will he learn from the big kids on the bus?
Will his teacher care for him as much as his Kindergarten teacher did?
Who IS his teacher?
Who in their right mind thought it was appropriate for a six year old to leave their mother for 8 hours a day?
All of this stems from the realization that he will be away from me more than he will be with me during the day.
If you are at all familiar with this blog, you know that I do not suffer from a delusion that life is simple and smooth when all the kids are home. I know from other hearing other mothers that it is kind of nice to have a little extra time in the day to devote to the other children - to be able to run an errand and not worry about getting home in time to get a kid on or off the bus within a two hour time limit. I know in my heart of hearts that Walker likes the structure of school and like me, enjoys the academic time and like his father, enjoys the social time. I know that teachers are wonderful people and most of them are in the profession for the right reasons. They will not only teach my children, but care for them and show them kindness and empathy and be sensitive to their little souls.
It's just scary to think that he will be gone so long without me there to supervise and protect him. Walker is my sensitive child. Maybe I'm a little hyper-sensitive to this because I was allegedly a "sensitive" child. Except when my family refers to me as sensitive, I don't get the feeling that they found it as heart wrenching and endearing as I do when I say it about Walker. They refer to it as if it was a fault. I don't see it that way so much with Walker. Sure, being sensitive has its drawbacks, but it also puts you in tune with things that other people don't notice.
He was so excited. Not only because Walker has a thing for older girls, but because someone included him. Walker is usually very brave and social, but in situations like this, he becomes shy and awkward.
He had a great time dancing with those lovely ladies and I thank them from the bottom of my heart for being so kind. And I thank their parents for teaching them to be inclusive to the little kids too. I hope that my parenting allows my children to be so generous.
What will he learn from the big kids on the bus?
Will his teacher care for him as much as his Kindergarten teacher did?
Who IS his teacher?
Who in their right mind thought it was appropriate for a six year old to leave their mother for 8 hours a day?
All of this stems from the realization that he will be away from me more than he will be with me during the day.
If you are at all familiar with this blog, you know that I do not suffer from a delusion that life is simple and smooth when all the kids are home. I know from other hearing other mothers that it is kind of nice to have a little extra time in the day to devote to the other children - to be able to run an errand and not worry about getting home in time to get a kid on or off the bus within a two hour time limit. I know in my heart of hearts that Walker likes the structure of school and like me, enjoys the academic time and like his father, enjoys the social time. I know that teachers are wonderful people and most of them are in the profession for the right reasons. They will not only teach my children, but care for them and show them kindness and empathy and be sensitive to their little souls.
It's just scary to think that he will be gone so long without me there to supervise and protect him. Walker is my sensitive child. Maybe I'm a little hyper-sensitive to this because I was allegedly a "sensitive" child. Except when my family refers to me as sensitive, I don't get the feeling that they found it as heart wrenching and endearing as I do when I say it about Walker. They refer to it as if it was a fault. I don't see it that way so much with Walker. Sure, being sensitive has its drawbacks, but it also puts you in tune with things that other people don't notice.
For instance, last night was the 4H dance at the Butler Farm Show. I could see that Walker wanted to dance and he just kept wandering around the dance floor hoping to get integrated somehow. Luckily, another lovely lady happened to be there and she asked Walker to dance with her and her friends. Walker was in heaven when Ms. Stacy had him join her on the floor.
He was so excited. Not only because Walker has a thing for older girls, but because someone included him. Walker is usually very brave and social, but in situations like this, he becomes shy and awkward.
He had a great time dancing with those lovely ladies and I thank them from the bottom of my heart for being so kind. And I thank their parents for teaching them to be inclusive to the little kids too. I hope that my parenting allows my children to be so generous.
Unfortunately, I still have some work to do. Despite my best lecture about being a gentleman and being kind to the girls, Walker had some trouble finding his rhythm with one of his little friends. Miss Maggie (not his sister) came to the dance hell-bent on dancing with Walker. Her mom told me she had been telling her all day that she was going to go the the dance so she could dance with Walker. When that slow song came on, she put him in a choke hold so tight, no one was cutting in.
Walker didn't take it so well. I had a hard time getting good pictures of it because it was so dark in the tent and I was shooting one handed so I couldn't manipulate my camera settings, but the above pictures show Walker's extreme joy at being manhandled by little Maggie. In the photo on the left, Maggie is attempting to do some "Dancing with The Stars" type spins. In the second photo, well, I'm not at all sure what is going on, but he just looks miserable, doesn't he? I'm betting part of him wanted to dance with Ms. Stacy again, and part of him was embarrassed by the extreme affection Maggie was showing him. My guess is that he was torn because he knew he couldn't show her blatant disrespect by telling Maggie he didn't want to dance, but he wanted to make it known to Ms. Stacy that he was available for future dances if she was interested. As soon as that slow dance was over, Walker asked to go home. We walked over to a nearby bench and talked about how it is important for a gentleman to be kind to all the ladies, and that it is OK to dance with lots of girls and be kind to them as their friend. We talked about how some girls don't get asked to dance and that how it makes them feel good when a nice young gentleman asks them to dance - it doesn't meant you have to like them as anything more than a friend, etc.
I don't know how much of it is sinking in, but my hope is that by the time he's a teen, he has incorporated my lectures and is a kind gentleman who will treat the ladies with respect and thoughtfulness and that he will find pleasure in doing so.
After all, he may be my only hope. So far the only signs of sensitivity the other children show is the injustice of them not getting their own way. I guess my first lesson with them will be empathy.