The following are recent conversations with my 15 year old, freshman in high school son, K.
K: "Today is such a total waste of time. We have over two hours of open gym while the upper classes do testing. We should be in class being productive."
When I was in high school, I LIVED for reasons to get out of class. Any reason.
Me: "You should really consider Running Start when you are a junior and senior. You can get some college credits out of the way." Besides, that makes it totally cheaper for your dad and I. Maybe we can retire a year earlier...
K: "Not every college takes those transfer credits. Stanford doesn't take them."
Stanford? Did he say Stanford? When did we start considering Stanford? Who is going to PAY for Stanford?
K: "I HAVE to turn my B+ into an A. I want to have a 4.0"
Somebody clearly switched my child at birth. He cannot be my flesh and blood. While I was a total overachiever when I went back to school as an adult... not so much as a teenager. I didn't get terrible grades, but I was definitely not straight A material. I sat comfortably in the B's with an occasional C thrown in by my horrendous math teacher. Nothing exceptional to write home about.
History? I memorized what I needed to know to pass the tests. Now? I totally wish I knew more history. K, however, has always had a thing for history. And math.
My husband once pulled out his high school report cards. I made him hide them quickly before my K could see. AWFUL. But as soon as he hit college? Straight A's. Says he cared then, because he was invested financially in his education.
So while I'm certainly proud of K, and very happy he loves learning, I often shake my head in wonderment. And wonder who is real parents are.