#1 was easy. The answer is, yes, it would potentially be a great school for you, especially if you get a scholarship.
#2 and #3 . . . well . . . Maria is my oldest, so we often chart unexplored waters together when it comes to navigating the historically complex mother-daughter dynamic. However, as I started discussing the aforementioned topics with her, I was quite confident that I was ROCKING IT. In fact, I sounded so good that I didn't realize how long my soliloquy had become. I just kept spouting platitudes the way Moby Dick pushed water through his blow hole. And her eyes kept getting glassier and glassier.
At long last, I paused to take a breath and asked her if anything I was saying made sense. (I mean, how could it not? I had lectured her on values and self-respect and staying true to oneself, etc. It was all really good stuff, the kind of adages one sees on throw pillows in outlet stores.)
Maria, in her brutally honest fashion, responded to my question with, "Kind of, sort of." Yes, I was shocked that she didn't lap up my gilded droplets of wisdom, but, at the end of the day, I'd rather my kids find the guidance they're seeking than further my illusion that I'm the Dalai Lama. So, I then asked her if she would prefer talking to Maddy--one of our babysitters whom we see several times a week (and who happens to be in high school). Suddenly much more enthusiastic, Maria replied that, yes, she'd like that, since "Maddy is more familiar with this century." Mic drop.
All ageism aside, I got it. And, after recalling every profound chat my mother and I shared before I turned 18, I had an epiphany: It's not that our talks weren't tremendously meaningful in the grand scheme of things; it's just that they didn't necessarily mean a whole lot to me when I was in the "then and there" of things. Bearing this in mind, I approached Maddy as she helped me with preschool pickup last week.
Now, for those of you who--like me--have lost touch with the life of a high-school senior, it's busy. They're visiting colleges, studying, doing extracurricular activities, and (even on top of that rather onerous load) often working. To us dinosaurs, high school now seems like the very definition of the glory years, but, in reality, it can be a damn demanding period. It follows that I hoped Maddy would say yes, though, in my mind, I would have understood 100 percent if she said no.
However, one of the many reasons we like Maddy is that she is incredibly kind. In hindsight, I shouldn't have been surprised by the fact that, when I tossed out the idea of heart-to-heart'ing with Maria, she didn't hesitate. In fact, she set a time and date: after school, today. I was pleased--my daughter was over the moon. Granted, she tried to play it cool, but she's still at a stage where, thank God for small wonders, she can't hide much from me. To her, Starbucks with someone in high school/a person she respects and admires is a pretty big deal. To me, my daughter having Starbucks with someone in high school/a person she respects and admires is a game-changing act of kindness.
It may sound simple, but let's not kid ourselves. Speaking only for myself, I guzzle anything from Starbucks on the fly. Every now and again, my friends and I toss out the idea of doing coffee, but making it happen is another story. After all, we're busy people in a fast-paced world. Actually sitting down in a coffee shop entails us rearranging the moving parts in our iPhone schedules the same way a puzzle addict is compelled to forever fiddle with a Rubik's Cube . . . or so I tell myself.
If I'm being totally honest though? Yes, carving out 60 minutes for someone I care about requires a certain level of skill and dexterity. But let's call it what it is--kindness. You know the famous ad campaign that was a feather in the cap of dairy farmers everywhere: "Got Milk?" Well, here's one for humanity: "Got an Hour to Be a Human Being?" We all do, and we all know it. It's merely a question of choosing to set aside a few precious minutes in the name of being kind. Our sitter has clearly figured out how to do this at a far tenderer age than I did. I hope, by extension, my daughter will look at people like her and learn how to do the same.
PS: Maddy, if you read this, I fought back my journalist's instinct and didn't ask Maria much beyond, "How was Starbucks?" (Okay, okay, I resisted the urge to be Nosy Nellie.) Suffice it to say, however, the kid walked in with a smile on her face, a steely focus on her homework, and the conclusion that she wasn't "going to worry about boys right now anyways." Apart from my gratitude for exemplifying kindness, please accept my thanks for driving home some extremely crucial points. They're big ones for any soon-to-be 12 year old (especially if that soon-to-be 12 year old is hoping to eventually earn a scholarship to Harvard ;-))
The game-changing kindness: Someone chose to take time to be kind--even in a world where we all fancy ourselves extremely busy, highly important people.
How it changed the game: It exemplified how kindness should be a priority because, at the end of the day, we're all human beings. It also reinforced to another person that she matters . . . that she is more important than a schedule written in ink, smudged across a dry-erase board, or lit up on an iPhone.
How it could change my/your game: We always say time is precious. But, like anything precious, one day we'll run out of it. While we have it, why not use it to change our lives and the lives of those around us by showing kindness?
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