Four More Years & I’m Walking on The Moon

My baby boy is in high school.

Tonight was orientation.  The kids got the generic “Do your best and be good.” lecture, and the parents got to run through the halls after their children, waving to teachers as they passed each classroom’s door.  It was loads of fun.

I felt really old, maybe for the first time.  There’s something legitly middle-aged about having a kid in high school.

In the beginning of our meeting they passed out sheets of paper that outlined the requirements for graduation.  In order to graduate with the highest honors in a New York State public school, you need 28 high school credits.

I read that and thought, “Dang, that’s a lot of work.”

Then my son held the sheet of paper in front of my face and silently mouthed “t-w-e-n-t-y-e-i-g-h-t.”

I leaned over and whispered, “That’s no problem.  Just get working on them and you’ll be up to twenty-eight in no time.”

I was still thinking, “Dang, that’s a lot of work.”

I believe in shooting for the stars though.  I mean, even if you miss the stars and land on the moon, it’s still pretty cool.

I have a feeling I butchered a very popular saying, but that’s how I imagine it in my mind…me walking around on the moon in a big old suit they gave me for graduation.

They should give you a suit for graduation, because after you buy twelve years of school supplies, you can’t afford the suit for your first interview.

$192 and change on school supplies for two kids.  (Oh, and a pair of scissors for myself.)

My paycheck went in the bank and went right out to Walmart.

I’m counting my blessings though, because I heard one school district put an iPad on the school supply list.

We is po-folks around these parts.  We still use paper and pencils, and not the fancy mechanical pencils either!

There’s still a hundred-dollar calculator and Spanish/English Dictionaries to buy.  I’m not worried about the dictionaries, because Amazon’s got my back, but the calculator is a bummer.  It’s no wonder I’ve never liked math.

So, next week, my high school kid will start working towards earning twenty-eight credits, and I will start working towards buying a fancy calculator.

Four more years.

I’m not ready for this high school thing, not even a little bit.