This week, my daughter and I met with her high school guidance counselor to plan out her freshman year classes. Before our meeting, we did surveys, went through the school's curriculum workbook to check out the mandatory classes and graduation requirements and talked about what she wanted to do.
I wasn't surprised with her decision; she will major in music and dance. She wants to go to college and do the same thing. Then I had to give her a reality check.
I told her I would support her endeavors, but she had to acquire certain skills sets so that she could support herself. Frankly, I'm not going to support her past a designated age. I also let her know that making a living in the arts was going to be hard and shared some first-hand experiences with her.
She would have to move to a major city because in our community; she wouldn't be able to make a good living. She'd have to have a "day" job and pursue her "craft" at night. And it would be a struggle, but I knew she could do it.
My daughter has a lot to think about know: two year versus four year; time management, her grades, friend selection, course studies, and what she wants to do with the rest of her life. Luckily, she has time.
My oldest realizes that I will always be there for her, but mom's hand-holding grip is loosening up. I strongly suggested that she choose computer courses next year because when it comes time to start writing term papers; she'll thank me. She tried to fight me on this but the counselor sided with me and shared a stiry on how she had to teach herself how to keyboard with two broken fingers. She won the round on taking dance classes to fill her gym requirements.
As she transitions from middle school to high school, she now has to be accountable for her actions. And she needs to choose a career path that she likes...not me.
It's surreal for me because I can't believe my daughter will be 14 and a freshman in high school in September. Seems like only yesterday, I was listening to her scream and cry her heart out at daycare because she got moved up and lost her favorite provider, Amy. (Amy cried, too.) I knew the transition would be hard, but she adjusted. I remember how excited she got when I picked her up from there and gave me the biggest HUG; she was so happy to see me. Now she's almost as tall as me and started wearing heels.
My trumpeter has come a long way, but she has a way to go. I just watch in amazement as she carves out her niche and becomes her own person. How did this happen?? I know how it happened...(wink). Now I know how my own mother must have felt.
Posted By: Marsha Jones
Thursday, February 25th 2010 at 9:02AM
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