The Department of Public Safety

My son waited a while - much longer than his younger brother would have liked - to get his driver's license. He wasn't ready at 16 years old and I didn't push him. He had no intention of joining the chaos on the roads and I didn't really see why he should. The environment is nothing but dangerous. He recognized it at a time when I was already so desensitized that I forgot what it looked like.

In no uncertain terms my son explained that other driver's are erratic, do things without giving notice and generally do not follow the rules all of which makes them dangerous.He is SO right!Why would anyone throw themselves into the midst of that unless they absolutely must?

Well . . . because they must. Because they want money and because they need to join life. . . that's why.

It wasn't until his younger brother was old enough to attend Driver's Training with him that he even considered taking the classes. My son needed at least one familiar person there as a shield from the unknown. Cash was his motivation and family was his foundation.

I cannot tell you how many trips to the Department of Motor Vehicles we made. It seemed like each time we were there, some different bureaucratic barrier emerged that hadn't been announced the time before. He didn't meet the age requirement (by one day) despite that he was well over 16 years old. Or he didn't have a document (that wasn't listed in the requirements). Or the appointment had been cancelled without his consent because he didn't arrive and check in a full hour before his scheduled diving test. Somehow, each setback only increased his distrust of the Department as a whole. 

By the time he finally rescheduled his Road Test he didn't believe that some new and unknown condition would not emerge to get block his way to independence once again.

When we arrived at the Department of Motor Vehicles, I stood back and let my son handle his appointment. In fact, I insisted on it. He would have to handle tasks and procedures much worse than this in the future. I though it best if he began his now - when he really wanted something for his effort.

My son's appointment went well. He handled himself well, with confidence and purpose. He handled the officer who took his paperwork politely and with a barrage of questions she was not equipped to answer. He waited alone with the car virtually hours for his road test. Once gone, I prayed for safety and panicked when they returned in just over five minutes.

Walking through the front door of the driving center trying very hard to hold the pride in - he finally smiled. I knew he had done well and that this hurdle, this right of passage had been passed. 

At this point, my son is driving all the time. He enjoys it. He knows when he should and when he has reached his limit. Most important, he loves, soaks in and wallows in the independence and autonomy that being able to drive has brought.

Senior year . . . just like that

We survived Senior Year when we didn't believe we would! We survived because my son is tenacious. He simply does not give up.
So many people told me this day would never arrive. So many people explained the poor chances for success that my son could expect. Some even recommended an institution. Yes, that kind of place.

Never mind them.

Bus route worries; would it be the same? would the same driver be chauffeuring? would it be the exact same bus down to the number on the side? Schedule changes; what if I don't get the classes I need? who will help if I need to make changes? Are all the classrooms, bathrooms and cafeterias still in the same place after a summer of renovations? Would anyone remember him? Only everyone!! Does he have to try in classes that he cannot stand? Who in the heck thought that a class called Medical Terminology would be at all interesting to this child? In spite of all the uncertainties, unpleasant and uninteresting lessons, routines shifts and the like, my son has completed high school and done it well. Most important, he has finished on his own terms, in his way and according to his standards.

Since my son survived the first month of 12th grade, we all survived the same. Everyone did remember him. Everyone always has. I ran into his preschool teacher the other day at the market. She remembered him with great fondness and detail. Everyone remembers my son. I son't know what he was worried about, but I suppose worrying about that is a normal concern no matter who you are.

It has been another remarkable year for my son. He has grown into a truly amazing young man. He is consistently kind, conscientious and considerate. He is good. I just cannot say enough about him. I am so truly proud because he has worked so hard - in many ways harder than most - and he has succeeded. Nothing brings me more joy than to know without a doubt that all his hard work and my determination on his behalf has paid off. I know he is proud too because he tries so hard not to smile when someone tells him about his accomplishments. I cannot mention it. He doesn't like to be boasted upon.


There were times when I wondered if I have pushed him hard enough, expected enough of him, asked him to work hard enough. I still don't know because I don't know what is the right amount of effort for him. Thankfully, I believe he knows. I keep forgetting that what is correct for me is not also correct for him. Again, and thankfully, he reminds me in his way.

In so many ways my son is able to multi-task, combining activities that would make me feel incredibly frazzled and irritated would it were to last very long. Where I combine tasks, he cannot. Where he combines sensory input, I cannot. We run on completely different operating systems, it's true. Regardless of how he has completed this years long task, what matters is that he found his own way and finished on his terms. He did an outstanding job.

We made it through College applications, ACT and SAT exams, Prom, Homecoming, Senior pictures, and End of Course Exams. . . Through all of these, my son has taken on as much as he can and weeded out the parts that don't concern him. Again, they wouldn't be the choices that I would make, but they are not my choices. They are his, and he has made them well and according to his own wants and interest.
Graduation lies ahead; practice, ceremonies, uncomfortable regalia, crowds, photos, squealing parents, insolent yet equally proud and a little bit jealous brothers . . . there is so much ahead yet.

Plano East Senior High School Graduation

But just like that . . . Senior year has come to an end and life will begin again.