Friday Feature: Move-in Day

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It's coming. The big change. The humungous goodbye followed by the teary drive home.

In less than two weeks, we drop my daughter off at college. I'm excited for her, and even for the all the last minute shopping for must-haves.

Part of the reason I'm even close to ready has to do with my voracious consumption of articles on what to/not to buy/pack. Those have set me up for the next hurdle: how to pack it so it all fits and arrives in one piece -- or at least as many pieces as it was to begin with.

Are you wondering the same thing? Check out this article by Lisa Heffernan of the fabulous Grown and Flown website.

It won't help make the parting any sweeter, but it might just help with that last minute shopping.

Absquatulating August

When you work at home, business hours are 24-7. It’s a hard habit to break, at least without a fair amount of guilt--even in the summer. I don't actually work 24 hours a day, but, because I make my own schedule, I'm just as likely to be working at 10PM as at 10AM. And, since I'm not a morning person, I'm more likely to be working at 7PM than 7AM.

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Despite the fact that June and July signify summer vacation, I feel guilty if I'm not being productive at the same rate that I am during the school year because my primary job description changes. In June and July, I can focus on my writing, harnessing the full power of my creative energy to use in crafting articles and writing books. But I feel as though my creative clock is ticking. The guilt soundtrack plays mournfully in the back of my mind whenever I sit down to read, watch TV or just chill because I know that during the school year, some of that creative energy will be siphoned off for class planning, which means my well of creative energy sometimes runs dry before I sit down with my characters. So I have to make the most of June and July before they absquatulate, taking with them the longer days and adequate sleep (sort of) that allow me to access my creativity with fewer distractions.

But August? August is the collision of every aspect of my life in one crazy busy, messy month. At least this August. My daughter's summer job is winding down, so we're finally attacking some of the sorting/purging/organizing she's been talking about doing since May. This newer, leaner collection of possessions is counterbalanced (at least temporarily), however, by the acquisition of everything she will need to put her dorm room together--back-to-school shopping with a twist and a much bigger budget. 

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We're taking one last quick family trip this month, too--a couple days in New York to see a Billy Joel concert and wander around Manhattan. Since the goal of August is to find the sweet spot that blends productive writing time with productive class planning and family time, my laptop is making the trip with us. Since I love writing on trains, whether or not it makes it out of the bag will depend on my family's chattiness and connection (or lack thereof) to electronic devices of their own, as well as our ability to nab seats that make writing possible. 

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August also means it's time to get serious about syllabi and adding in all the fun stuff I've been collecting in a big, mostly electronic, pile all summer long. Compiling the links I sent myself all summer was a multi hour process--one that reminded me that I need to be specific in my subject lines from now on to save myself time when I harvest all those cool ideas in August and figure out where to integrate them. Still, this process got me excited about doing old things in new ways and moving my classes closer to the ideal I envision.

All of this--including back-to-school shopping, to a certain extent--is normal August stuff which has so far managed to distract me from the big August event, which is my daughter's departure for college. She finishes work this week and, next week, we have one (last) full week to enjoy each other's company, get in each other's way, finish up all the shopping, start the packing and do all the myriad things that keep popping into my head as the month progresses. I know we're not the first family to do this, or the only family in the process of doing it right now. But it's our first time, and it feels enormous. I've been so focused on the excitement of what lies ahead for her and the mechanics of getting everything together that the reality of this life change has come to me only in small snippets. 

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It's probably better that way. Just as this busy August full of all the usual stuff (and a few surprises) has kept me focused on the big picture, where I am, admittedly, most comfortable, so has it reduced the drama leading up to the final countdown. But now, here we are, and I can feel my bravery crumbling. There aren't enough characters, articles or syllabi in sight to block the view of the bridge my daughter will be crossing. As long as I'm creating one more to-do list, checking off one more set of tasks, purchasing one more necessary item, I can live in the fog beside the bridge, knowing she's going, but not having to face it.

In just two and a half weeks, I'm going to have to face it.

Tichnor Brothers Post Card Collection
Boston Public Library
digitalcommonwealth.org

Awful August

Yesterday, I was checking out the back-to-school sales at Staples. I love school supplies, back-to-school shopping and sales. I ran into a former colleague and had a fun, on-the-fly chat. The day was sunny--hot, but sunny--and it was Sunday, so the whole day was at my disposal. I had few complaints.

Today, it's August 1. MONDAY, August 1.

That hardly seems fair.

Today, it's gray--not raining (yet), but gray--and I felt overbooked before I got out of bed. The meme at left, while perfectly reflecting my feelings, did give me a little chuckle when I found it on a friend's Facebook page. Marilyn's a teacher, too, so she knows that turning the calendar page to August means it's time to get serious. The former colleague I ran into at Staples yesterday knows this, too. She was planning on working on her classroom today.

Though my days of putting together an office at school are behind me, August still means putting things together. These days, it's syllabi and reading lists, Moodles and presentations. None of this is difficult, but all of it means that the great ideas I've been planning in my head (where details don't matter, so it's not a problem if they're not fleshed out) need to be transferred to paper where they'll need to have goals and objectives and be attached to due dates. As a big picture person, I get a stomachache just thinking about it.

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This month is a wake-up call in more ways than one. August means nudging my body back into a sleep schedule that doesn't come naturally. The longer days of summer are perfect for night owls like me who get a second wind sometime around 7PM. During the summer, if I choose to ride that second wind until midnight, there's no alarm clock to fear the next day. During the semester, when I ride the second wind until midnight (as I invariably do), I pay for it the next day, and the sleep deficit grows larger as the week progresses. August means acknowledging that the world operates on a different schedule than I do.

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And this August means a new kind of back to school at our house. In three weeks, we'll be dropping my daughter off at college. She's ready and I'm as ready as I can be, but as the summer winds down, the reality of this departure keeps sneaking up on me and hitting me over the head when I least expect it. Last Friday night, for example, we did some dorm supply shopping, which was fun--until I got home and we began unpacking our purchases and reality hit. Since March, I've been almost unequivocally excited about all the adventures that lie ahead for my daughter, but, now that it's August, equivocation has set in. I'm going to miss her and life is going to be very different.

I still have almost a month to ease into these changes, though. Between now and the end of this month, we'll visit my parents, spend some time as a family in New York City, see Billy Joel in concert and celebrate my birthday. And, because August also means that crisp, cool fall weather is just around the corner, this month I dread will give way to my favorite season of all.

Now that I can get behind.

Laundry Lessons

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My daughter and I began our day with a discussion about laundry.

"Mom, you didn't wash my shirt for work."

No. No I didn't.

She's not a brat, mind you -- just an only child who grew up with a mom who hates washing half-full loads of clothes. As a result, although she knows how to do laundry and routinely does some of her own, she's become used to not having to depend upon her own resources to get clean clothes.

But this summer, things are changing. In exactly a month, she'll be moved into a dorm. There will be no Mom backup for laundry or dishes or any of the myriad things Mom does.

And so I've stepped back. The usual rules still apply -- if the dirty clothes are in the basement, I'll throw them in when I do a load.

When I do a load. 

In the summer, loads take longer to fill. Clothes are lighter, thinner, smaller. Fewer loads are washed, and the one you want isn't always full.

Did I mention that I hate washing half-full loads of laundry?

And this summer, she's working full time, which means figuring out how to squeeze laundry (among other things) into the nooks and crannies of her time when she's home (which is not often). You know. Kind of like how it's going to be when she's at school.

And so this morning, when she told me I hadn't washed her shirt, I had one of those wonderful, rare Mom moments where you say exactly the right thing in exactly the right tone without being snarky or sarcastic or launching into a lecture.

"Honey, it's your responsibility to make sure your shirts are clean for work."

Aaahhh. A parenting victory.

And a tiny little check mark in the otherwise very empty "pro" side of sending her off to school.

Gotta take 'em where you can find 'em.

10 Things I Learned from the Summer of the College Tour

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Earlier this summer, I shared a bit of the emotional journey that has accompanied our family's "Summer of the College Tour." Yesterday, following a do-it-yourself trip to a local campus, I found myself reflecting on how much I've learned in the past year, and thinking about the practical discoveries I've made. For those who haven't yet begun this adventure, here's our family's Spark Notes version.

1. At the beginning, you don't know what you don't know. Every once in a while, there's that rare parenting moment where you do something right. In this case, it was aligning our first formal visit with a trip to my alma mater. In my comfort zone, not only could I focus on figuring out what questions to ask, but I also got a baseline for what a campus visit was like. For better or for worse, everything that followed was measured against that visit. Had our first trip been to unfamiliar territory, I might not have fared as well.
2. Not all tour guides are created equal. As much as I hate to say this (not really), in our experience, the girls have done a better job. At the bottom of our list is the highly selective school where the (male) tour guide literally didn't have enough sense to come in out of the rain. At the top? Enthusiastic tour guides who are personable, well-informed and offer an e-mail address at the end of the tour. One young lady even sent a hand-written thank you note. Well done.
3. Sometimes you get the real tour, sometimes you get the promo. The best tours make sure there are enough tour guides on hand to keep the groups small. That way, nervous, self-conscious teenagers might actually ask questions -- and worry less about the embarrassing questions their parents will ask. Real tours show dorms (or explain why the dorms are unavailable) and eating areas, not just the prettiest or most noteworthy places on campus. They talk about life outside the classroom (oh, and they let us see a classroom or two, too). In short, they think about what a prospective student wants to see, share the information the parents want to hear, and save the impressive architecture for the trustee tours.
4. It pays not to travel incognito. This is a tough sell to the visiting teen sometimes, but there are benefits to registering ahead of time, ranging from small tour group sizes to waivers of application fees and early application opportunities. The full experience is still free, and it provides so much more than the do-it-yourself version.
5. The admissions office doesn't tell the whole story, but first impressions linger. I must admit

   

   Photo: Pippalou via Morguefile

   that the school with one of the most beautiful admissions offices is high on my daughter's list, but it wasn't just the room that sold it. It was the availability of water, snacks and an actual paper catalog we could page through, along with friendly staff close in age to my daughter. In another equally beautiful space, we weren't greeted or given much information. It was confusing and unwelcoming, and those feelings were hard to shake. 
6. Internet aside, you don't know until you get there. Online tours and the like are a great resource, giving you practically all the information you need in the comfort of your own home. Early in July, I even set a no-more-tours-until-you've-checked-it-out-online rule after we made a trip where the deal-breaker was something my daughter would have known before we even got in the car, if she'd checked. While a poor online presence can rule a school out before you can even plug the address into the GPS, even the most beautiful online presence can't give you a feel for the campus. If it makes the online cut, make the trip, but be prepared to make a quick getaway if your teen balks. 
7. BE QUIET. Yes, I realize I shouted that. But the cardinal rules of parenting a teen not only apply, they're magnified. Don't embarrass them, and if you like the school, for heaven's sake, play it cool or they'll reject it in a heartbeat. 
8. They want what they want. My colleagues were shocked that my daughter didn't love the classic, stately campus where she spent some time as part of a camp this summer, and chalked it up to her being too young to appreciate all it had to offer. Perhaps. But my daughter's more a clean lines and contemporary spaces kind of girl. Sure, the campus was beautiful (and she did appreciate that). It just wasn't what she was looking for.
9. The school is only the beginning. If I've learned anything this summer, it's that it doesn't matter where she goes. If she's happy with the school, and it offers the opportunities she's seeking, that's a great start, but it's just the first part of her journey, one where she'll chart her own course.
10. Have fun. This experience can be fraught with stress and anxiety, or it can be a chance to visit some new places and acquire the tee shirts. A vacation attitude is the best approach. After all, the process is stressful enough.

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