The Calm Before the Storm

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CJ has, shockingly, become a productive young man.  He lined up both an internship (at a website) and a job (at a beach club grill) this summer.  Between the two, he works seven days a week, setting his alarm, puts on khakis and shaving every single morning.  With the exception of one wild rave, his hours off have been filled with cleaner fun than I had at his age – swimming, watching the World Cup, and even driving to Barnes and Nobel…he has turned into a reader.

Meanwhile, BH knows that any second I'll be hassling him about the Chem SAT subject test. So since he returned from his summer program at Columbia, he's trying to get in as much down time at the beach and unsupervised parties as possible.

And I've been hit with the developmental need to take my family to the other side of the globe to see the migration of half a million wildebeest.  Once I realized that all four of us were actually available to leave the continent for the same twelve days (and that we'd only had three dinners together all summer), I somehow managed to convince Mr. NP that an eco-tent experience would be good for family bonding.  So we've packed our quick-dry underwear and in five days we're off to keep those memories coming.

It’s Starting

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BH has completed his sophomore year.  He doesn't seem that different now that he's officially almost a junior.  But I have noticed a significant change in the level of neuroses of the parents in his grade.  Just three short weeks ago, everyone was worried about driving after curfew, and whether the kids were attending parties without supervision. 

Now, the parents in the grade have suddenly become obsessed with SATs vs ACTs, subject test schedules, honors classes and choosing extracurriculars that don't seem as if their kids are too privileged. 

Because I have received desperate emails and invitations for coffee, can I already tell that the parents in this grade will experience more stress than the parents in CJ's grade.  I remind everyone that I am a comedy blogger and not a college counselor, but that hasn't stopped them seeking my advice, in what seems to be a collective nervous breakdown. Here are the reasons:

- This year's graduating class had a mass panic attack about standardized test scores

- There are several straight A Hispanic students to compete with

- Certain top colleges "dissed" our school, admitting nobody, even those who were well qualified

- Most of the "likelies," once known as "safeties," are now considered "matches," by the college counselors.  

- Many of the "longshots," previously known as "reaches," have been reclassified as "impossibles."  For example, for the class of 2006, Brown was a reach for anyone.  By 2009, it was a longshot.  And now, when anyone discusses Brown, it is considered an "impossible."  That makes a school like Cornell a longshot, and Berkeley and Michigan a reach.  And Skidmore, once a "likely" for many kids, has become a match.  And so on.

- Nobody can get a job no matter which school they attend or what they major in.  Although many find this trend upsetting, it can actually be comforting to those who are concerned about where their kid will be accepted.  At the end of the day, all of our kids will soon be competing for a handful of Teach for America jobs.

Paninis

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CJ has now been home for three weeks.  Our garage room, equipped with FIFA, poker table, etc. has become the hangout, or as BH calls it, the dorm.   Yes, CJ might be home for the summer, but he has continued his night owl slovenly dorm life with his friends from home. 

The big difference:  You can't get paninis to order in the dorms.  Yes, instead of working, I have been spending hours every day shopping and cooking for 14 starving boys (and two moderately hungry girls).  They say they have jobs and/or internships, but they must all get out of work by 2:00 pm, because that's when they start to arrive, ready for paninis. 

After two weeks in the kitchen, CJ told me that I should stop cooking.  He still loved my paninis, he said, but warned me that I would soon become resentful, just like the mom at the home where he hung out last summer.  She realized she was spending hundreds of dollars a day on frozen pizza, guacamole, chips and that awful Vitamin water, and finally imposed a "pot luck" rule. 

But I don't know if I'll get there.  It's been fun preparing snacks for what seems like a giant playdate…Dare I serve them chicken tenders?

Thus Far

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He's back…No longer a college freshman.  He is still clad in his hoodie and baseball cap.  He continues to text incessantly, including with several high school pals who are now college dropouts.  He doesn't look or act more mature, but there have been glimmers of erudition….Above all I was shocked to witness him using the phrase "thus far" in conversation.  I guess every penny we spent was worth it.