Congratulations, Mom and Dad

Here’s your diploma

By: Beth Alexander

Published On: May 06, 2010



And so we arrive at May: the month anticipated and often secretly dreaded by parents of high school seniors. While you might attend the Derby party at Belle Meade Plantation, the Steeplechase or the Swan Ball, what really matters to you falls around Memorial Day—commencement. With one final hurrah and plenty of pomp and circumstance, all college discussions and high school decisions (should Junior go out for debate, thereby increasing his odds of becoming a lawyer; or play sports, increasing his chance of selling insurance; or audition for the school play, staying on your payroll indefinitely?) become moot. Your nearly two decades of parenting choices have been validated—pre-school through high school—while you endured increasing internal pressure. Your swallowed words and bitten lips could provide sufficient nourishment for a Project Graduation extravaganza.

You’ve survived several prom seasons, when you discovered which parents provide the safe house for alcohol consumption by minors. You’ve made it through various sports seasons, perhaps a little banged up or hoarse, but victorious, regardless of the score. You’ve made friends with parents whose kids share similar traits with your own—whether surprising assets or maddening challenges. You’re a wiser parent, breathing a sigh of relief to have made it through the gantlet of primal child rearing. Perhaps you’re caught up in the lionization of your child’s school, measuring every moment with the poignancy of “This is the last time…” Or maybe you’re gritting your teeth, counting the moments until you can snatch that diploma out of your graduate’s casual grip. (“We’ll get that framed for you, honey.”) Maybe you’re just waiting for the coast to be clear so you can file for divorce, as some have done. Anyone can see the rationale there.

Let me reassure you: You’re going to be fine.

Remember when you brought that miraculous child home from the hospital? You were mesmerized by those big eyes that seemed to possess the light of heaven and that sweet Cupid’s bow mouth, even when it quivered with infant fury. God has wrought another miracle for you. He will make your graduate so unpleasant and malodorous for this last precious summer at home that you will be ready, nay, eager, to settle him or her in a college dorm, meet the roommate’s parents over a sympathetic handshake and give everyone a hearty fare-thee-well. Some bits of advice for the next stage of parenting: Text, don’t call.

When your kid calls, stay alert and don’t agree to anything without sleeping on it for 24 hours. Talking it over with your attorney is not a bad idea. Set a monthly budget and stick to it.

Codicil: Define “emergency” before piling in the car for the drive to college. Tip: A frat party is not an emergency.

As for transportation, provide a bicycle with a basket, chain and lock. It’s much more difficult to drive drunk.

Keep your sense of humor, but develop a jaundiced eye and cynical ear. You remember college. It’s still like that, but with more temptations, more police and more diseases.

Encourage your student to sign up for a full load. The influence of your work for the past 18 years only wanes after freshman year.

Go ahead and discuss: the Greek system, the advantages of graduating in four years or less, tattoos.

And with any luck, in four years, they’ll jump right into the job market.