Guest Post #1: Bossy Betty

Starting off our week of amazing Guest Bloggers is Bossy Betty, an absolutely brilliant writer, story teller, and photographer whose blog I started following about 12 months ago, and who has enriched my life not only with the wonderful posts on her blog, but through her heart felt, supportive, and always humorous comments on my blog. I adore this woman. She is my idol . . . and I can only hope to some day reach the hearts and funny bones of my blog friends as she manages to do every day. Without further adieu, I present you with Guest Post #1, Bossy Betty, and her story titled . . .

Bon Voyage Every Day

When I leave for work in the morning, I run into school traffic--parents dropping off their kids at the local schools near our house. If I am early enough, I also see some parents dropping off their high schools students at the nearby bus stop. The traffic is slow, stop and go, and there's plenty of time to gaze into other cars and do some people-watching.

Yesterday morning I caught sight of a woman in a car who was moving her mouth as though it was full of old, dry toast that she was determined to chew up then spit it out. At first I thought she must have Bluetooth in her car and whoever was on the other end of the line was getting an earful, a royal chewing out. She stared straight ahead and worked that mouth vigorously without stopping. I watched her and couldn't help but almost start to laugh at the scene. But then, as I inched the car forward, I saw her high school-aged son in the passenger's seat. It was clear: he was the one she was directing all that sputum towards. My amusement turned to sorrow. You could see the defeated look in his eyes as he turned his head and gazed out the window.

The traffic moved ahead and in another car I saw another parent, obviously not too happy with her middle school student who sat slumped in her seat. There was a Lecture in progress in that car for sure. You could just see the yearning of the girl, waiting to get out, away from that voice, away from the negativity. In another car, a father sat expressionless and silent as he drove his daughter to school.

Those scenes yesterday morning made me think about days when I was in school and felt like no one understood me, or even cared about me. It was rare, but there were days when my mom was mad at me as I left for school, and it set the tone for the whole day. I went to school and found no love there, only rules I had to follow, and more adults I had to placate. It was miserable.

Our son is in high school, and every year we go to his school's Back to School night. There, we a small taste of what he faces on a daily basis. We follow his schedule of classes, (for short, ten minute classes instead of the hour long ones he goes to) going from one room to another and then to another, from one teacher to another, to another, pushed along by an obscenely loud and harsh bell.

His high school is huge, his classes are huge, every teacher assigns work, and there is very little time for individual attention. There are different rules in every room. This teacher wants them to use a blue pen. This one demands they write out the date and not use numbers. One teacher wants a certain kind of binder. The math teacher demands graph paper. The English teacher wants them to put their names on the left hand side of the paper only. Every day he leaves home where he has our expectations to meet and our rules to follow. Then he goes to school and deals with six authority figures at school, all of who have rules and expectations for him to follow and meet.

It seems to me, as parents, we have a golden opportunity every morning, and we often blow it, not understanding the power that we have in those few minutes before our children set out on their days. So often we use any time we have with them to inform, direct, instruct, and to make very clear the things we are not happy about, and make very clear how our children can make the changes we see as necessary.

It's a rough world out there and sometimes we make it even rougher for the ones we love the most. So this morning when a certain young man leaves for school, I intend tell him that I love him, that I am proud of him, and if he needs me for anything, I am just a phone call away. I know he'll roll his eyes, shirk away from my hug, and say "OK, Mom, OK."

He'll leave, walking with that familiar gait I can spot for a mile. He'll carry that heavy backpack on his narrow shoulders.

What I want him to carry as well is the innate knowledge of how much I admire him. I want him to carry with him the deep knowledge that as he navigates these turbulent waters of his high school years, if he drops an oar now and then, that it's OK.

I hope my morning goodbye to him lets him know that he has people who will help him find that oar again, who will be the solid surface he can use to steady himself, and who will send him out on his journey again with love, encouragement and best wishes.

- Bossy Betty