Tag Archives: school

College Tours, or better make it a double

rotundaThis week we took the Dude on his first college tours. He’s been on college campuses before, during summer camps or school competitions, but never with the context of I might be spending four years here.  We only visited two public universities, both on the small side of large. We didn’t want to totally overwhelm him. We started slow, only attending  admissions overview sessions and the student led tours. With the number of students attending these sessions, no one we met is likely to remember the Dude, which is just as well, since he’s unlikely to remember any of them either, except for one of our tour guides. She was exceptionally attractive.

We learned a lot about academic programs, the admissions process, and all that jazz, but I learned a few other things too. Let me share them with you.

1) I am no longer in my 20′s. I have always viewed my age as somewhat amorphous. My definition of “old” changes every year. Despite acting rather grown up at a young age, I have never really felt like a grown up. Not until now. These kids are young. Really young. I am not. The comparison is quite striking.

2) Their classes are designed with them in mind, not the faculty’s interests. They don’t sit in classrooms and study post-modern poetry or Medieval art. They have seminars on Latin-based Harry Potter spells. Apparently “Expecto Patronum” means “Summon my lawyer.” Ironic, isn’t it? A soul sucking demon scared off by a lawyer?

Personally, I would kick butt in a Harry Potter seminar, and I’m old enough to buy my own Firewhiskey. I would also love to sit in a classroom and discuss why Dickens is still relevant today. It would be even better if I could do it over a bottle or two of wine. It think this is a viable business idea. My college for parents who still think they are 20 would rock.

3) They are really into Harry Potter. The student tour guides gush that their student lounges look just like Hogwarts. The administrators gush that their student lounges look just like Hogwarts. They have Quiddich teams. I wanted to see a match, however, they weren’t playing while we were there. They run around on brooms. Do you think this means they actually know how to use them? Me neither.

4) They eat a whole lot better than I did in college. Their cafeterias aren’t really cafeterias. They are like restaurant food courts. I didn’t see any Hot Chili Fritos, or ice-cream scoop-shaped mashed potatoes. They have food trucks and latte bars, and Chick Fil A. Has the freshman 15 become the freshman 30? Doesn’t look like it. They are all very fit. Must be all that Quiddich.

5) Dorm rooms are still overheated. Every window was open and had two fans; one bringing air in, one pushing air out. It was about 40 degrees outside.

6) College admissions personnel have seen it all, and we parents are all completely transparent. UVA knows our favorite word isn’t “rotunda” and UNC knows that wearing Carolina blue nail polish isn’t “on accident.” It also makes one look a little cyanotic. I don’t recommend it.

7) I love the whole “secret society” thing. I’m starting one of my own. I can’t tell you much about it, however, because it’s a secret.

8) On the whole, college students look happy, engaged, and seem pretty passionate about what they are doing. I have hope for the species. They don’t resemble the hordes of disaffected high school students that frequent the local Starbucks. Even the Dude told me yesterday that he was tired of his friend saying that everything sucked all of the time, because in actuality, it really doesn’t. I also have hope for my son.

Most of all, it reminds me that my time with the Dude is not infinite. He didn’t lock himself in a closet, swearing to never leave home, nor did he express that he couldn’t wait to leave. I suppose it’s a baby step for all of us, and this is only the beginning. We’re making a list. Only 20 universities to go. I could use some more Firewhiskey.

Words by J. B. Everett

Photograph “Rotunda” by Tim Jarret © 2004 Creative Commons

Women Who Rock : The Heart of Kidwx

about-us-photo1I am terrible with names.  It’s embarrassing to have a whole conversation with someone while running through the mental Rolodex. I was at a networking event and ran into a woman who looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place her. I just knew that I knew her, but was drawing a blank. She connected the dots for me. We belonged to the same gym and went to a lot of the same classes, but had never really met. I’m so much more social when I’m not drenched with sweat and breathing like Darth Vader.

Her name was Linda Nimmo, and it turned out we had a lot in common. We’d both left high-stress corporate careers. I was trying to forge a writing career, she was building a new business. But we had a lot more in common than that. We’d both spent time on the educational support hamster wheel.

In these days of larger class sizes and performance-based testing, teachers don’t always have the resources to support a child who has a screwdriver in a hammer world. I had been there. Linda had been there too, and she and her friend and neighbor Jamie Finch were doing something about it.

Finding  a child service provider, from afterschool programs, to learning resources, to pediatric specialists, is like looking for a needle in…a huge pile of needles. It’s even more confusing and intimidating if your child has a learning disability. There are tutoring programs, independent tutors, testing and evaluation experts, and alternative learning methods. There are camps and specialized schools and non-profit organizations that provide resources for parents. How do you know which combination might work for your child?

You ask another parent.

It really shouldn’t be this hard to find someone you trust with your child. There is a ton of information–unfortunately it’s all distributed. Each parent has their own set of experiences, good and bad, but it’s locked inside the confines of their own social circle. What parents needed, Jamie and Linda decided, was a place that captured all of that information in one place so parents could explore a broader range of choices and feel better about those they pursue. Since it didn’t exist, Jamie and Linda created it, and launched Kidwx.

Kidwx is an information portal where parents can read and provide reviews of child service providers. It’s sort of like an Angie’s List for parents. A subscriber can get kidwxinformation on educational services, remediation and tutoring, enrichment, extracurricular activities, health and wellness providers and support groups and organizations, all reviewed by other members.

“There’s no better advertising than a parent’s heartfelt review,” says Jamie. Kidwx accepts no advertising dollars from service providers. Businesses can subscribe and see reviews so they can address any complaints, but can’t post or edit reviews. Kidwx doesn’t filter reviews, either, so parents get to hear both positive and negative experiences. “That’s the one piece we wouldn’t give up,” Linda said, despite the challenges it posed. “We wanted to stay true to that vision.”

Their passion for this business is heartfelt and rooted in helping children. Linda and Jamie both know how difficult it can be to find the right match for your child. You can spend a small fortune and still not find what you need. When you do find it, it can be a game changer. “We’ve had reviews where a parent has said (this service provider) changed my child’s life.”  What rocks more than that?

The women who created it.

Check it out Kidwx here, and meet two women who rock, just like all of you.

Words by J. B. Everett

Words aren’t cheap, but apples are

appleFull disclosure–on occasion I’m a substitute teacher, which means I get to see the kids at their worst. I’m a parent, so I get to see them at their best, except for my own–they are always their best at some other kid’s house. This also means that I get to hear what teachers say to us as parents, and what they say one teacher to another. Another disclosure–my sister is a totally kick-ass teacher. If she taught at my son’s school, he’d probably get up in the morning without whining quite so much.

I have lots of opinions about both sides of the equation, as a parent and a teacher, but I only want to talk about one issue today.

I’ve had to execute a lock-down drill as a substitute more than once. Lock the doors, turn off the lights, shut the blinds, and cover the classroom windows while calmly ushering kids into a sheltered location. Keep them quiet until the all clear. It’s very different from a fire drill, which I’ve also done before. Those drills rev the kids up. The classroom is disrupted, they get outside, see their friends, talk to each other while they wait. They come back squirrely. After a lockdown drill, the mood is somber and eerie. It’s different, and everyone knows it.

When I’m teaching, I’m the buffer between the outside world and those kids. Your kids. Like the teachers in Newtown.

Think about it. What would you be willing to sacrifice? When every cell is telling you to run, you have 35 other people that you have to put first.  Before you can get to your own child, you have to deliver all of those children to their parents first. When we have those drills, the responsibility comes home to me.

So when I hear people complain about how teachers don’t have to work that hard, that they get paid too much, they have a guaranteed job, they only teach to the test, and so on, as a parent, I get it. I’ve done my share of complaining, although more about the testing culture than the teachers themselves. There is a difference. The greater part of me however, thinks “this is the person I’m trusting with my child.”

As awful as the kids can be, and trust me, they can be pretty awful, and as tired and cynical as the teachers can get, and like all of us, they do, I know that my son’s teachers would step up when called to do so. For all of the complaints I hear about teachers, there is one I can categorically deny. They do care. They care about our kids. Enough to confront a gunman, to hide the kids in cabinets and lie to keep them safe, to read them stories and kiss their foreheads and tell them it will all be okay when they aren’t sure that it will.

And for that, we cannot pay them enough.

Thank a teacher today. If you feel you have to give them an apple, make it a Honeycrisp. They are delicious.

Words by J. B. Everett

Photograph by fotografeleen © 2012 Creative Commons