A few weeks ago I was thinking about Andrew. Graduation is near. He’s doing his internship (student teaching) at a k-12 school not far from Troy. This is a good thing because he doesn’t have to move to another town this semester and the commute is only about ten minutes one way.
He has to be up, dressed professionally, and at work by 7:30 every morning. Attending faculty meetings, teaching classes, and staying for all afterschool and night rehearsals are now part of his curriculum. Friday night ballgames with the marching band and all Saturday festivals and competitions are also a requirement.
When our children reach working age and are thrown out into the world, do they ever suddenly realize what hardships their parents went through providing for them, nurturing them, doing without for them?
Do they become aware of the fact the work day doesn’t consist of just fun and games? You have to prepare for each day and apply yourself, going over and beyond the call of duty, to become an accomplished and respected human being.
It was only about thirty minutes later – eleven-thirty p.m. – when my phone rang and I got the answer to these unspoken questions.
Andrew was ranting and raving about having to hang around late after a ballgame, with a kid whose parent never seems to be in a hurry to pic her up on time, and most of the time that parent doesn’t even answer the phone. After all, his work day was over and he was ready to call it a day.
“Mom,” he said, “How can you not answer your phone when your kid is out late? How can you even go to bed? I just don’t get it?”
“Welcome to my past world,” H said.