Week of firsts

Time is accelerating wildly as we all navigate this girl's last year of high school.

Just this week she experienced a whole slew of growing-up firsts, milestones whizzing by without much chance to stop and notice them for what they are.

First real job interview.

First submitted college application. 

Cap and gown measurements for graduation.

And first driver's license driving test*.

It's thrilling and daunting and bittersweet watching her take each step.

I guess it always has been, right from her very first one.

. . .

Listen: Everybody's Changing ~ Keane

. . .

All photos by Nicole Barker photography

*(It's a tad late but Massachusetts has a long process to acquiring the golden license. Add Lauren's busy schedule and all of the sudden she's 17.25 and just getting around to taking the test.  Our insurance bill has been breathing a sigh of relief & enjoying the delay, though.)

The Blessing of a B Minus

If you have children between 11 and 20 (or if you plan on your kids reaching those ages, for that matter), go get this book right now. Mogel's take on parenting teens is compassionate, wise, and inspired. Much like her earlier book The Blessing of a Skinned Knee, which was geared toward parents of younger children, Mogel draws from her understanding of Jewish teachings to reframe some of the challenges teens face (and the associated frustrations of parenting them) into blessings. 

In The Blessing of a B Minus, Mogel reminds us of, among others:

~The blessing of strange fruit: Accepting the unique glory of your teen

~The blessing of a B minus: The real lessons of homework, chores, and jobs

~The blessing of problems to solve: Learning from bad judgment and stress

~The blessing of breaking the rules: Real life as ethics lab

 Am I Jewish? No. And you don't have to be either to thoroughly enjoy this book. The ideas that Mogel discusses are universal and accessible for all.  For example, she uses the story of the Israelites' wandering in the desert with Moses. She notes that the presence of God was a "'pillar of cloud by day...and a pillar of fire by night.' This beautiful image is a model for parents whose children are wandering in the wilderness of adolescence. Like God, you stand by, providing shade and light when needed, but mostly you stand back. You wait to see if your child can solve problems on his own before stepping in; you let him experience the natural consequences of his poor decisions; and you give him the freedom to make mistakes, even big ones."

As the parent of three children (12, 14, 17) it's a great relief to read such a wonderful book that eases some of the anxieties we parents face during this stage of parenting. As a doctoral student studying parenting and child development, I'm just a little jealous I didn't write this! 

[edited to say: I should add that I don't completely mesh with one of the chapters, The Blessing of the Hangover, and some of you might not either. There are still great insights in that one; I just try to keep my teens further away from those mistakes than perhaps some parents do. Having said that, I still think teaching and then stepping away and allowing teens to make decisions (and mistakes) is what these years are all about.]

. . .

~ My friend Bridget agreed to be interviewed and has some great things to say about being a new student-mom returning to grad school. Catch it here.

~ Also, a request.  I have been working hard at launching a new idea, one that's actually been simmering for over a year now.  I'm not quite ready to go public but if you'd be willing to act as a virtual focus group and give feedback, I would be so grateful. Just say so in the comments or send me an email (basic.annie@gmail.com) and I'll let you know what you can do.  Then I'll find a way to show you my undying gratitude.

The Leaf Project

In our local high school, every freshman science class is given a legendary, huge project every fall: The 50 Leaf Project. The students are given a list of 50 types of trees in our region and then they each have to (a) find the trees, (b) gather a leaf from and do a write-up for each one (and take pictures for extra credit) and (c) assemble it all into a portfolio at the end of the eight weeks, when they (d) are tested on identifying all of them. It's a high school rite of passage.

Okay, I can see how it's a great project. Fantastic for the kids to learn to identify so many trees. Wonderful experience to learn how to manage your time with a big project. Fabulous excuse to get out in the beautiful New England autumn scenery.  For example, this last Saturday, I drove Maddy and two friends to the Arnold Arboretum (where they filled Maddy's camera with relevant and less relevant photos):

And yet.  Truly, it's every freshman family's evil fall nemesis. It takes a lot of weekend searching to find all 50 trees, some of them quite rare.  Maddy's done a great job of incrementally gathering and recording but she's still haunted by 10 remaining leaves.

10 leaves. By Monday.

I want my 10 leaves.  Remember Better Off Dead and the two dollars? That's how we are all feeling about those 10 leaves right about now. You're on notice, eastern hophornbeam, norway pine, and honey locust.

Anyone else have huge "family homework" projects?

Growing pumpkins

Here's what I want to know:  What happened to these little pumpkins?

October 1999, Alexandria, Virginia

Seriously, where did they go?

Because, back then, we would take this kind of fall weekend and go on a hayride.  We would pick out pumpkins and take long moseying walks. We'd stomp through the leaves and then pick them up and look at their veins and make crayon rubbings of them. Maybe someone would throw a tantrum, maybe not.  But life had a bountiful, easy quality; what we lacked in emotional regulation we made up for in time.

Those squishy cheeks. The little buttons I helped fasten. The chirpy, high voices. The feathery gosling hair.

It's enough to make a gal's womb ache. 

This weekend is beautiful--I know this because I have seen a lot of it through the car windows as I shuttle people hither and yon.   A small sampling of activities: Last night G and Sam went to the ward campout in New Hampshire and the girls had a high school football game. Today Maddy is off early on a seminary field trip to Vermont and Lauren is taking her final SATs. After picking up everyone, they come home for a bit and then all have plans tonight in various places.

Where's the justice? Just when they get so interesting and potty-trained (okay, that was a while ago) and hilarious and can make their own sandwiches, they are almost suddenly scarce around here. It's true what they say: the (early) days are long but the (later) years are short.

In the meantime, I guess I'll head to Costco. They do, after all, still manage to eat quite a bit around here.

p.s. I'm totally going to make them recreate that photo sometime soon. Humor a mama, kids. 

. . .

Listen:  Ashokan Farewell  ~ The Civil War documentary

Don't be hesitant

Last night Maddy and I stayed up too late. I had been at book group and when I returned a little before 11 she was at the kitchen table, homework spread in front of her. In tears. Tears are fond of 11 p.m., have you noticed? Some of it was the new workload of high school honors classes, pace, and deadlines. Most of it was the elections.

Ninth grade elections. Is there anything more slippery and unpredictable than high school politics? Maddy decided to run for class president and is experiencing the full emotions of putting yourself out there: hope, betrayal, affirmation, doubts. Middle school maintained a come one, come all approach to student leadership so these are their first real elections. It shows. Apparently one girl is promising doughnuts to everyone who votes for her and that has been a very successful campaign strategy. Gotta love the short-term thinking of ninth grade brains. 

. . .

It's hard not to keep remembering my own first attempt at elected office. I know our children aren't necessarily destined to experience the same fates we encounter (and that it's not all about me!) but I can't help feeling this vicarious nervous feeling for Miss M. No question, those nerves are rooted firmly in my memories of that first election saga.

It was 1982ish. 7th grade? 8th grade? I was the oldest child in my family so I was navigating new, unfamiliar terrain at the junior high but I nevertheless decided to make a run for class president, coasting on the feel-good spillover from my elementary school years. When I look at this picture of myself from that year, I just want to hug her. Oh, Annie, honey. (This is the infamous beauty-school-student, old lady perm.):

In addition to giving a speech and making posters, we had to do a skit. I assembled as many people as I could and invited them over to my house for brainstorming and practice. Lacking any great ideas (I know, fantastic president material, right?) I went with my mom's idea: since my name is Annie, why not a skit around the musical Annie? (Are you feeling sick to your stomach with dread yet?)  So she helped rewrite some words to the music Tomorrow ("Vote, Annie! Vote Annie! Vote Annie for president. She's only your vote away") for everyone to sing.  Then I would come out in my little curly perm with a red dress on and give my speech. I thought it was pretty great.

The morning of the skit, I was really nervous in my little Annie getup. We were somewhere in the middle of the line-up and it became clear pretty quickly that the reigning theme was "cool."  As in: not trying too hard. Lipsynching Foreigner. Spoofing Saturday Night Live (did I even know what that was yet?). Sporting a rainbow shirt or izod. Not wearing a red dress impersonating Little Orphan Annie with earnest lyrics*.  When it came our turn, my posse just kind of muttered rather than sang. We made it through, though, and I am grateful that no one outright heckled.  And, hey, all the teachers seemed to really like it. 

During last period they made an announcement on the intercom. Under the stares of my classmates, I listened as the office of president went to Denise Kidm@n, a tall cool girl who had four older teenage sibling advisors on all things cool. I accepted the condolences of my classmates with a brave smile, burning eyes, and a red dress crumpled up at the bottom of my bag.

. . .

So, you see? I have election baggage.  I want to help but I know I have no idea what the formula is for achieving high office in this generation's 9th grade. Apparently it includes doughnut bribery. I am proud she is taking the risk, putting herself in the ring, and offering to serve and lead. Don't be hesitant, Maddy.

What say you? Do you have election stories? Any ideas or memories of a fun, memorable student election speech? 

*I do want to say: This was not my mom's fault. She was wonderful and supportive and helpful. She made the handouts. She fed the volunteers. {Thank you, mom.} It just goes to show adults really can't predict the recipe of coolness that determines junior high/high school election success. What worked in the 60s didn't work in the 80s. What worked in the 80s, whatever that was, won't work now.