My son is a teenager and in the second semester of his second year at college.
He's new to it, but he is also determined and will find his way to success on his own terms.
He's new to it, but he is also determined and will find his way to success on his own terms.
My husband is over fifty, an academic and on faculty at the same college.
Say no more.
Say no more.
The two of them are like oil and water most days; generationally, culturally, and philosophically.
I am the carafe that holds them in contact with one another.
It's a tough job.
It's a tough job.
What or how adamantly to apply that label to - well . . . anything is no small chore and demands diplomacy levels and patience on par with United Nations negotiations. Our lives in this space become too closely bonded and we crash wildly and headstrong into one another in sort of the way I would imagine asteroids plow into planets and the effects those impacts have on the other. Except there are three of us. More planets, more asteroids, more collisions, more damage, more change.
Have you ever been to one of those painting parties where you and your friends all attempt to re-paint your personal copy of the same picture? None of them ever look the same at the end. Yet, somehow they all turn out just right for whomever painted it? It's kind of like that for the three of us. Except the subject of success and who gets to define it for whom seems to be a hot button. Whereas art appreciation? Not so much. At least not in our family.
What the last six months has taught me is; despite that we have each arrived at the same "Paint 'n' Party" destination out of necessity is that 'telephone' is a real game. And we play it every day whether we intend to or not.
How could all of us be so alike and so different at the same? Individuality is a beautiful thing. Most times.
Our definitions of 'Success' stop being similar immediately after we move beyond the point that we use the same alpha characters to represent the idea and they are in the same order.
S U C C E S S
At least two of us do, the third thinks in a language other than English.
I know, it's complicated, right?
S U C C E S S
At least two of us do, the third thinks in a language other than English.
I know, it's complicated, right?
More important, before the three of us arrived here, we did not understand why any of this was important - so it's been a long road for each of us. We were each simply 'right' and never doubted our understanding - ever.
For a while I wasn't convinced that these definitions needed to be reconciled, I now believe they might - for the sake of revealing expectations (and protecting my sanity). This task gives me reason to consider whose definition is most important - which I haven't been able to figure out. That idea might be incorrect. I don't see why one needs to be more important than another. They are all important and relevant. I believe it might be more necessary to understand and accept one another's terms than it is to fall in line behind one and disregard the others. This is still a democracy, right?
Is there no room for interpretation?
What is art without interpretation?
The difficult part as a parent is being agile enough to move from being an active decision implementer in a child's' life to being only an influencer. In other words, I (we) cannot expect to tell our son what to do any longer. He is 20 years old. I can only give him guidance, tell him my experiences and let him know that I support what ever he chooses - then let him go free to make his own choices.
This is a lot harder for my husband who sees things in much more pragmatic and linear terms - as well as obligatory - when they are necessarily bound to the strings (bridge cables) of the bank account that pays our son's way through this educational maze.
He so badly wants to be able to make demands and require certain behaviors because he offers financial support. Sometimes he can and then he is happy. But much of the time he cannot and it irritates him to the point of apoplexy. He hates that he cannot coerce and control how is his intentions are valued by others.
My son is 20. He is Autistic. He made the decision to go away to college on his own. He decided, with help from advisers, which classes to take and what his area of study would be. He made it through the first year of school on his own terms. He passed all his classes and joined a Bible Study group and held a student job on campus. He worked very hard at making friends. He diligently attended every sporting, social, academic and entertainment and or health-club event that the school and community offered. Sometimes at the sacrifice of his grades - but he did it. His priority was to make friends and be strong enough to leave my home. He didn't especially care about his grades so long as he passed. What he really wanted was friends. He went to college to learn to make friends. Most of us learn this in kindergarten. My son has been struggling with this all his life. I suppose he decided to accomplish this AND a college curriculum.
He made it.
He will probably always need the support of someone. Who of us doesn't really? Isn't it always nicer to have someone baking us up? Despite how capable we are?
These days, he is happiest when he finds that he actually can cope with problems, find solutions and work through trouble - on his own as much as possible. If he cannot, he knows he can call. we'll be there. we may not agree, but we'll be there as best we can.
