A Letter to Parents Everywhere

Today we dropped my little sister off for her freshman year of college. It was a whirlwind of emotion for everyone involved. Even my sister, a self proclaimed sociopath with no emotion (I recommended that she not open with that when introducing herself to people on campus), broke down a couple of times at the thought of being separated from all of her high school friends, of moving away from home for the first time, and the overwhelming possibilities that lie ahead.  All in all, she is a well-adjusted kid, smart and sociable, with a heart of gold. I have absolutely no worries about her ability to be successful both in college and in life. (We always make jokes that my younger brother, on the other hand, is a different story.  I'm about 93% sure that he's going to be fine.) And she's only attending college two hours away from home so it will be easy for her to get home whenever she wants. This reminded me of the 150 freshmen that, in three short weeks, will be boarding a plane headed for Greece, their first semester of college, and the great unknown and the parents that would be dropping them off not on campus, but at an airport in the States. (The fact that I am largely responsible for these 150 17 and 18 year olds embarking on their first semester of college in a foreign country hasn't escaped me .)

Watching all of these parents and first time college kids interact, got me thinking about what I'd like to have said to my own parents in that situation and to all of the parents entrusting me (and 8 other staff members) with their babies this fall.

Dear Mom and Dad,

Congratulations! The day has arrived! You did it! I'm off to college!

At graduation,  I received all of these words of congratulations, but I'd like to congratulate you. You made it! Yes, I'm the one who earned the grades, spent hours at after school activities, and submitted the college applications, but I couldn't have done it without your help. You taught me the value of hard work, the difference between right and wrong, and the power of kindness. And for that I am grateful.

But now comes the hard part... moving out for the first time, trusting me to make the right choices, and helping me learn from those choices even when I don't always make the right ones.  

Now I'll always be your kid, but the thing is, I'm not a kid. I'm an adult. Or at least I'm trying to figure out how to be one. And while it will be difficult for both of us, you have to let me figure things out even if that means I stumble a bit. When you say, "Don't forget to pack your jacket," I hear, "I don't trust you to pack for yourself." What you're actually saying is, "I checked the weather and I don't want you to be cold." When you say, "Be careful" every time I leave the house, I hear, "I have irrational fears about your safety." What you're actually saying is, "I'm your mom and I worry about you. And that doesn't stop just because you're 18." When you do things for me that I need to figure out how to do for myself, I hear, "I don't trust you to do this yourself." What you're actually saying is, "I'm just trying to help." Even though it's not always easy, I guess we both could do better at saying we mean and really listening to each other.

So the time has come. You taught me to fly and I'm ready to leave the nest. But remember, even though I'm moving to my own nest soon, your nest will always be home.

Love,

Your College Freshman

Revelations from the Road

As many of you may (or may not) know, I recently accepted a position working for yet another study abroad program. This time, I'll be living and working in Greece with 150 first semester freshmen. I'll be a renaissance woman of sorts, serving as an instructor for a global experience class, a residence hall director, and student activities coordinator. Students in the program study abroad their first semester, then begin classes on their home campus in January. All in all, it's a pretty crazy adventure for anyone to sign up for, let alone an 18 year old in their first semester of college. So of course, the job would be right up my alley.

After I finished training for said job, I hit the open road, on a quest to explore more of the north east. I drove almost 1500 miles through 8 states over the course of 7 days. It was actually quite lovely. I drove through the New England countryside, stopping for a hike or ice cream at my leisure, staying with a few friends along the way. In college, I used to be able to drive 1500 miles in one sitting. 10 years later, however, is a different story. Since I forgot the aux cord for my ipod and was at the mercy of rural radio stations, I had a lot of time to think.

1. Adventure is guaranteed. I accepted the job in Greece only a few short weeks before I was set to move to New Orleans and start teaching. I had taken all of my tests, paid all of my fees, read all of the required pre-reading (well most of it), and was set to start on my grand adventure of molding young minds. Several weeks before, I requested to change my primary certification to special education. When I got word that my request had been granted, I felt a certain sense of calm. It felt like the right thing to do at the right time in my life. (A few weeks later, seeing my cousin with Cerebral Palsy with all of his amazing friends, classmates, and teachers at his high school graduation party affirmed that this was, in fact, where I should be. This revelation would not have occurred had I actually went to New Orleans when I was supposed to, as the graduation party took place after I was scheduled to head south.)

I definitely have feelings of loss and regret over not teaching this fall. I feel like I am cheating on kids I've never met in a school I've never been to. But I think there are lesson to be learned no matter which classroom I'm in this fall, be it in the Big Easy or in the Mediterranean.

2. New York is not the be all, end all. After grad school, I wanted to move back to New York so much it almost hurt. While those feelings have eased up a bit over the last couple of years, I still had it in my head that New York was where I would eventually end up. During my tour d'north east, I was excited to get back to the Big Apple. Stepping off the bus at the Port Authority, instead of feeling like home, New York felt like stress. Schlepping all of my worldly possessions all over the city on public transportation in 90 degree heat with a millions people doing whatever they could to push past me on the sidewalk was not my idea of a good time. Talking with a friend from grad school who now works full time in the city summed it up nicely, "As you get older, you get tired of putting up with the bullshit." And he's exactly right. While New York was a great place to live and go to grad school in my mid-20's, several years later, it definitely lost some of its appeal. So I've amended my "Must move back to New York" rule to include, "If I do end up back in New York, that's great, but I can't live below 72nd Street because people are crazy. And if I don't end up back in New York, that's okay too."