Friday, April 18, 2008
Calm has been restored
As my boy comes home to me.
I have touched his face.
I feel like this is a recurring theme for my Haiku Fridays. Oh well. It's an accurate reflection of my world, which spins in a wild, sometimes out-of-control way, and then ... Z-man returns, and I am at peace.
Well, at peace is probably not strictly accurate this time as I agonize over what is making him so miserable.
He and I had a heart-to-heart talk Thursday night, after he got home, trying to get at the root of it and work our way to a solution.
Apparently much of the problem is the city of faraway collegeland itself -- and the people who populate his campus. He is happy in the kitchen, but the rest he deems "unpleasant."
I was at a TOTAL loss on how to help him. He doesn't want to quit, yet he doesn't want to stay. Argh.
Eventually, I boiled it down to some basic truths.
1) He has one more month to go this school year.
2) He will be busy because he has to do a "double lab" for the last two weeks of school. (This means he will have one class from 7 a.m. to 1 p.m. and another from 1:30 to 7:30 p.m. for nine days. Uusally they do one at a time.) B.U.S.Y.
3) Then he comes home.
4) In the fall, because of he had to drop some of the labs this year due to various illnesses, he has to do THREE doubles in the first trimester. That will keep him even B.U.S.I.E.R. in a big way.
5) Middle trimester he intends to do an externship -- part of the regular program -- at home (!).
6) Third tri will be his academic section -- and then he's done.
and 7) He will then have an A.A. in culinary arts.
8) IF he decides he wants to do the second two years and get the B.S. in food service management, he can transfer to a different campus. OR NOT.
Bottom line is, after I broke it down into its brass tacks, he perked up dramatically.
Because after another VERY BUSY class-time-intensive school year, one-third of which would be spent at home, he will have an A.A. and will be fabulously hirable in his chosen profession. The four-year degree is gravy. Either he'll do it or he won't. His choice.
I have no illusions that I have fixed it in an hour's worth of conversation, but he actually sat up and the sparkle returned to his eyes as the reality of what I was saying sank in.
So we have a plan. That plan also includes some regular therapy with a side of medication.
And a heaping helping of love.