J. is an amazing person. He is fifteen now, a sophomore in high school. He's usually fairly quiet, which puts people at ease and makes them think he's shy (ha!) -- and then, and then -- he delivers a most delicious whammy when he pops off a ridiculously funny joke or makes a riotiously observant comment. I love that moment. It always comes; I wait for it.
J's current interests rest primarily in music, the internet and cars. Especially the cars. MmmmMMMMmm, cars. He's thinking he'd like to go to a tech institute after high school to learn the fine art of car repair. Lord knows the vehicles need repair and that we need people who can aptly repair them. He's hit a few bumps along the road though. This year the thought occurred to him that he could possibly break something in the process of fixing something else. The idea rattled him to the point that he rethought auto repair as a career choice. But he slowly found his way back to tinkering and seems happiest when hanging out upside down under the hood or beneath the body of a car.
Since the earliest days of his life I've believed that Jordan was (and is) his own person, even (especially) during those times when I'm not sure how to find the connection between his self-ness and mine. In part as a result as the parenting that was done to me, I've made a point of telling myself - aloud, when necessary - that what J does is entirely up to him and I'll be content as long as I know he is happy. I mean, there are limits. Had he shown proclivites for ax murdering, I would have had some issues with his hobbies. But what he decides to train for as a livelihood and the music he chooses to listen to and the clothing he's most comfortable wearing? Small potatoes, baby; such small potatoes.
I figure my job as his mom is to train him to do the stuff he'll need to know how to do when he's away from me, living by himself or setting up a home with someone(s) else: Turning the stove off after he's done cooking to prevent kitchen fires. Keeping baking soda on hand in the event he forgets to turn the stove off. Reading the tags on his clothing to understand the difference between 'gentle wash' and 'don't mix with darks'. Figuring out who to talk to and how to do it when the bill that arrives in the mail is incorrect. Making beds, making jokes, making a home.
My approach has been one of constant awareness and constant thought but I'm generally hands-off. I ask him to help with a few household chores but I don't book his afternoons and evenings with activities. He's a kid, for chrissake. He'll have too many years packed with responsibilities; I don't mind leaving these last few years of his flickering childhood open to the possibilities of what he might want to do with them. Anyway.
Earlier this week I met with J's high school guidance counselor. Because J. is quiet and polite, because he isn't a trouble-maker, because he's not a powerhouse and because he does just fine -- he slips under all the radars. I wanted to meet with Charles, in part, to meet with a real live person; in part, to introduce one of the grown-ups who affects my child's education to MY CHILD. Charles flipped and blipped through several computer screens to review J's previous and current classes. He commented, "Well, the good news is that J. is doing pretty well. His grades aren't bad".
No doy-uh. I knew that.
"Well, yes. That's not a question, he IS doing well. But J. doesn't draw attention to himself - either positive or negative - and I'm concerned that an overworked school system might accidentally let his fall through the cracks. I don't want that to happen."
Charles tried his best to reassure me that J. is in a big transitional time, that J. is feeling his way through his interests and that they may stick or they may change, that J. is doing fine. I tried my best to explain to Charles that even IF J's mechanical interests do not waver, I want both J. and I to fully understand all the classes and opportunities he has available for the 'JUST IN CASE' scenario. For that small iota of a chance that he changes his mind about a career in auto mechanic work, I want him to have the option of attending a four-year college or university without being absolutely overloaded his senior year of high school because c'mon, how suckful would that be to play catch-up?!
Charles, a kind and patient-seeming man, admitted that with his current case load of 350 students he hadn't yet met J.
Three hundred. and fifty.
Charles offered to meet with J. this week, to talk about J's interests, his classes, to give him some face time. It was one of the few things I took away from our meeting that I felt grateful for.
Because in a big system where the finances are being strapped down tighter and tigher, where the nasties seem to take up more time that used to be spread more evenly across their disheveled heads, our children can vanish right before our eyes while we're busy making what we assume will be the rest of their lives materialize.
