How college tried to kill me


Tancy here with an important Public Service Announcement.

I need to tell you  about something TERRIFYING.


Not going to college, which can be a tad bit fear inducing in and of itself, but looking for a college for your wee babe.

I mean, I think I just gave birth to that kid, and now they want me to send him off to the great big world of higher education.

We recently spent some time at our IBSA state convention, and there were several institutions of higher learning represented in the exhibit hall.  I paced myself,  and took them slowly and in small groups.  I can only handle so much since my stroke, and each table gave me heart palpitations and excessive stomach acid.  It took three days to cover five schools.

At each table stands a thoroughly put together school representative.  Each one leads with the question, “So, what does your son want to pursue in college?”

This seems like a completely benign and predictable question, but for a mother of and “undecided” it only brings more trepidation.

“Well, honestly Sir, we are looking for a program in which my certifiably brilliant child can learn to make money while playing video games.”

That seemed like a completely plausible scenario to me, but none of them were impressed.

After we moved past the drama of the “undecided” problem, we would move on to application as a homeschool student and transfer of community college credits.  It was here that I began to feel like the WORST HOME EDUCATING PARENT of all time.  Apparently, our dear son should have taken the pSAT last month, and now has NO hope of ever being a National Merit Scholar no matter how  SMART  he is or how GREAT his grades are.

Also, he should be signed up to take ACT this spring, and he should be involved in a ACT prep classes  already.  So I quickly googled local ACT prep classes, and after JP picked me up from the floor and checked me for a pulse I mentally calculated  how many hours of piano lessons I would have to teach to pay for prep classes.

The last topic was broached with much reservation at each table. “Bottom line, what does a year of school at _____University cost?”  And at each school the reply was, “Well, we have many scholarships available, what is your son’s SAT or ACT score?”

The Bad Parent Alarm went off yet again.

As we recovered, we moved through the numbers.  At one school, I informed the preppy young man that I was pretty sure that was more than we brought in last year.   He was physically taken aback, and even sputtered a bit. After his recovery, he rallied with a list of wonderful scholarship and grant options which was followed by another reminder that he needs an ACT score to move forward.

We pulled ourselves together and moved on to a table that offered chocolate in return for looking at their newest gadget or book for pastors.

I felt better.  Chocolate does that.

I wonder how much kidneys are going for on the black market?

We each have an extra, right? and there is always dialysis.

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