Faulty Parenting Decision

So we have a secretary at the office named Carla, who is the mother of an only daughter, Sofia. Sofia is a terrific young girl -- in 8th grade and getting straight As, and is now in the process of having to choose a high school.

Sofia is in a magnet program at her K-8, and has her choice of schools for next year. Carla is in the process of helping her choose, and, since she admires the Ds and their academic accomplishments, asked my advice.

I explained it was much simpler back in the Ds day. D1 auditioned for, and was accepted into a Dance magnet, but opted to stay with her friends and attend the neighborhood school. D2 stayed on a non magnet track, too, and did tremendously.

In fact, she recently heard a very nice compliment. The car parker in her building has a daughter who was D2's classmate. When they made the connection, he asked his daughter, now a Miami Dade teacher, about D2. He was told that D2 was "one of the smartest kids in the whole school." It's true, even though, as her grandmother points out, she is very quiet about her intelligence.

In any event, Carla's questioning brought back a funny memory from my own junior high to high school years, and involved probably the only major mistake my mother made in raising me. And, like many mistakes, it probably benefited me.

As I was getting ready to enter Jonas Salk Junior High School my mother and I met with the guidance counselor. I still remember his name: Thomas McNamee. Nice fellow -- WW II vet and long time educator.

Mr. McNamee said my grades and test scores indicated I should go into the "Advanced" program in junior high, the equivalent to what is now called "gifted." I was excited about it, since I really enjoyed my classes, and figured I ought to be with the smartest kids, such as they existed in working class Levittown.

Nope, my Mom said. My older sister had been placed into that program, and foundered. Her grades were mediocre, and she complained to my mother about being "put in with all the eggheads." So Sunny said that the "regular" academic program would be just fine for me.

Looking back, I'm not sure why my Dad, the much smarted and more academically inclined of my parents, wasn't involved in this decision, but I guess in those days Moms got to decide.

In any event, classes started, and I was miserable. I enjoyed discussions with the teachers, but after awhile, the tough, less than interested classmates would say stuff like "If you open your mouth again, we're going to kick your ass after school."

So I shut up. And, I learned to deal with  a different demographic than the one most of my friends today inhabit. My friend Joel, who grew up much richer in Miami, calls me the "blue collar, Levittown Jew," and it's a description I embrace.

Finally, after being pretty unhappy during 7th and 8th grades, I went in to see Mr. McNamee myself. Luckily, my grades still entitled me to move to the Advanced group, and I did, starting with 9th grade. I made a whole new group of friends -- the ones headed to college, including my smartest friend, Kenny, who I'm still close with today.

It was such a relief and pleasure being able to participate in class without fear of my then skinny ass getting kicked.

Years later, when I pointed out the parental folly to Mom, she shrugged it off with "it all worked out just fine -- you got a scholarship to U Miami, didn't you?"  She was right, of course, and even more, I got to develop more of a toughness than I might have had I been among the elite during the formative years.

There's a great "Onion" article going around, that claims that all parenting styles lead to miserable, disturbed adults.  I posted it on FaceBook today, with a reference to the Philip Larkin poem "This Be the Verse," which talks about how ALL parents "fuck up" their kids.

Well, as John Lennon sang, we're all doing the best we can...

So I have a feeling young Sophia will be just fine wherever Carla places her. And, though she'll have challenges, hopefully won't fear having her ass kicked for having the answers...