Today I am driving my son to the local university to take a test in the testing center. My kneepits started sweating when I typed that. He is fifteen years old and officially enrolled at Utah Valley University. What is that smell? Oh. That is the smell of burnt mom brain. Smells like turkey bacon.
Okay, okay, he's not really in college so much as that he is going to an on-college-campus high school that sends their students to college classes. So, high school? Yes. College? That, too.
Basically what this concurrent enrollment high school entails is my son getting up crazy early, catching a community bus, and riding fifty minutes away each day to the campus. Then, when school gets out at 4pm, he stays an extra hour at the high school for tutoring and catches a bus home. He will be gone most of the day. It seems a bit boarding-schoolish to me. I FEEL LIKE I AM SENDING HIM TO HOGWARTS.
Even though I'm sure it will be tough, I know that this is the right fit for him because he is Lord High Nerd of the Nerdlings. In three years time he will graduate with both his high school diploma and his associates degree. Which is one more college degree than I have.
I never graduated from college.
Also, I do not own a smart phone. My phone never graduated from college either.
|I's a dumb phone, yeehaw!|
Here's my story. I went to BYU, got married as a teenager, dropped out of college, had three babies, went back to BYU, got scared away from BYU because, hell, it was BYU, transferred to UVU, made English Professors happy, dropped out of school because there was nowhere to park my car and it super pissed me off.
So maybe I should go back to school and take college classes with my cute wittle baby boo. That wouldn't be embarrassing at all for my son, right?
Kidding. If I went back to college, I would be a ninja so as not to embarrass him. A ninja wearing a tie-dyed hand-puffy-painted t-shirt that says, 'I GO TO COLLEGE WITH MY ADORABLE MAN-CHILD.'
This morning I have jotted down all of the advice I need to give him about taking a test in the testing center today. 'Cell phone: Do not bring one. Blue bag: Do not be afraid of stuffing everything into a blue bag and placing it under your desk. Pencils: Bring two, pre-sharpened. Scratch paper: Bring some blank paper and have it stamped. Bathroom: Do not be afraid of getting up and going to the bathroom if you need to, dear child of my heart.'
I have more advice for him about college. Don't go all Hermione on your first day of class. Don't procrastinate that mean horrible awful 30-page research paper until the night before it's due. When you write a paper, no matter what, do not bore the teacher. I am pretty certain that the only reason that I passed my research paper class was because I was an interesting writer. My research paper sucked donkey balls, but at least it wasn't boring!
When I asked my English professor friend what she wanted me to embroider for her, she had this request (as posted on my Facebook wall):
"DON'T BORE ME. If you really want to embroider something for me, I would like it to say DON'T BORE ME. It's advice I explicitly give my students for their papers. (Actually I tell them, "TRY not to bore me," acknowledging that some of them probably will fail, just like I no doubt sometimes bore them.) Everyone else, I just sort of think it at them, hoping they'll get the telepathic message. Luckily I am easily entertained and can be interested in all sorts of conversation topics. I am even interested in why people are interested in things they really shouldn't be interested in, like assault rifles, teaching Sunday school, and coming up with new creative date ideas instead of just mocking the ones that already exist."
Dear Doogie Man-Child Howser Floozy, I am sure that you will do great. And p.s., don't bore the teacher. And p.p.s, save a seat for me on the front row. I have bought us matching collegiate stationary and pompom pencils.