One Down
We stood in the green tiled hall, outside the office. Every time another parent came in we'd smile a polite greeting, maybe nod, then quickly look away. We were all waiting for our 8th graders to finish their tours, waiting to hear how they had liked First Choice High, full of questions and hopes.
But we didn't speak. Instead, we occupied ourselves with the display case, examining the awards for Student of the Month, searching the large black and white photo of the class of '58, the first graduates of FCH. We looked at the large and looming paintings of 3 dead and gone bishops, looking stern and pre-Vatican II in their red robes; searching for a hint of humor in their eyes.
We didn't speak and I was glad of it. No sense in getting to know each other. There will be time for that if we wind up at the parent mixer during freshman orientation. Not that I'm any good at those things anyway. I'm never the one to make the first move. All the friends I've gained from The Child's school years made the first move. I'm painfully shy in those situations, largely because I've never had much facility for small talk. The mere fact of having a child in the same school has never been enough for me to scrabble together a decent opening line.
And I fear the direction those opening conversations might take. I've mentioned before that my generation of parents tend to be very competitive. I feared talking to "that parent", the one who would list her precious baby's myriad accomplishments: the straight A's and bountiful civic awards. I didn't want to talk about how competitive all this business supposedly is and how lucky they are to have a personal recommendation from Benedict. I was perfectly content to appear self-possessed and smug about my child's chances for being accepted to First Choice, and Second Choice, for that matter.
I am (finally) more confident, of course. The Child has a B average, with a nice ledger of activities and service, stellar recommendations, a principal and teacher who will do everything in their power to get her into First Choice. But I didn't want to talk about that with these strangers, even if they too were just as concerned and hopeful for their babies as I was.
Then The Child rounded the corner, her eyes shining.
"Mommy, I just toured the drama department. It's so awesome!"
But we didn't speak. Instead, we occupied ourselves with the display case, examining the awards for Student of the Month, searching the large black and white photo of the class of '58, the first graduates of FCH. We looked at the large and looming paintings of 3 dead and gone bishops, looking stern and pre-Vatican II in their red robes; searching for a hint of humor in their eyes.
We didn't speak and I was glad of it. No sense in getting to know each other. There will be time for that if we wind up at the parent mixer during freshman orientation. Not that I'm any good at those things anyway. I'm never the one to make the first move. All the friends I've gained from The Child's school years made the first move. I'm painfully shy in those situations, largely because I've never had much facility for small talk. The mere fact of having a child in the same school has never been enough for me to scrabble together a decent opening line.
And I fear the direction those opening conversations might take. I've mentioned before that my generation of parents tend to be very competitive. I feared talking to "that parent", the one who would list her precious baby's myriad accomplishments: the straight A's and bountiful civic awards. I didn't want to talk about how competitive all this business supposedly is and how lucky they are to have a personal recommendation from Benedict. I was perfectly content to appear self-possessed and smug about my child's chances for being accepted to First Choice, and Second Choice, for that matter.
I am (finally) more confident, of course. The Child has a B average, with a nice ledger of activities and service, stellar recommendations, a principal and teacher who will do everything in their power to get her into First Choice. But I didn't want to talk about that with these strangers, even if they too were just as concerned and hopeful for their babies as I was.
Then The Child rounded the corner, her eyes shining.
"Mommy, I just toured the drama department. It's so awesome!"
Labels: high school, smells like teen spirit
cobbled together by Moi at 6:27 AM
23 Comments:
crossing fingers and toes!
I'd like to order 1 FCH sweatshirt, please.
Thank you, Mouse. And since you've got one starting next year, too, I think we should arrange to have a virtual Bloody Mary Tuesday when they start. Yes?
Duly noted, Uncle JP. And I'm assuming you'd also like to buy a ticket to the auction for the next 4 years?
Yes. Whatever Buck contributes, I will contribute that + one dollar.
Wonderful!
I'm sure they'll have noted her enthusiasm.
Fingers still crossed.
So when do you and The Child find out re: her acceptance by FCH? (Thinking positively, always!)
Yes, Dariush, she is one of those kids that adults seem to remember. One of the teachers yesterday remembered her from the testing on Saturday.
Syd, acceptance letters go out in mid-February. Which seems like forever at the moment but it really isn't.
Fingers crossed until mid-February. (Sure makes typing awkward...)
KA, I know, right? I think it's awfully swell of all y'all to inconvenience yourselves on her behalf.
That read like a story!!!! YAY!!!!
See? You're such a good influence on me.
May the force be with her, and her mom. I hope she gets her choice!
Has anyone told you yet today that you're a really great writer?
xo nayb
Thanks, Cowbell. From your lips...
Why, golly, Neighb, no. But thanks.
This is fun goin' along for the ride!..It's great to see a kid thrilled to attend school.
..and this post bodes well for #1's acceptance of your essay!
Waiting is so hard! I am hoping FCH has the good sense to want Child.
Awwww, thanks Slingshot!
It is, Mom, but you know, I'm really feeling very good about the prospects at this point. (Maybe to do with the fact that our priest just emailed to say he'd sent off glowing recommendations). If FCH is worth it's salt, they will soooo want The Child.
I'm super excited about the child and first choice high! Keeping my fingers crossed too.
And those shining eyes tell the whole story...
If positive thoughts work the Child's going to be on the FC alumni list in years to come.
Crossing fingers and toes m'self. Nothing eases the inevitable pain of high school like a good drama department. The pubescent homosexuals she meets there will be friends for life, and will guarantee that she looks FABULOUS on prom night! Tee!
Thmswht, make sure to uncross them at least once an hour, just to keep the blood flowing.
Willym, what a nice thought.
Red, oh, man, I never even thought about the benefits of a 'mo posse at such a tender age. Score!
What a circle of anxiety we can weave ...
I hope the school can tell the difference between a parent with intense ambitions and child with parents who want them to shine for the world, who want them to see a Drama Department and be thrilled at the possibilities.
I'm counting on FCH knowing the difference and knowing that The Child will bring all the stuff that you are with her.
Me too, Booda.
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