From 1963-1965 I attended Brooklyn Technical High School, a 6,000 student all boys engineering magnate type of high school. The school itself was an intimidating edifice. 11 stories tall and a one square city block footprint. The curriculum and the teachers were even more intimidating. In addition to these challenges I travelled one and a half hours each way to school. 30 minutes on a bus. 30 minutes on the Staten Island Ferry. 30 minutes on the subway.
One and a half years after enrolling. Struggling to maintain a "B" average. I had an attack of appendicitis and, weeks later, found myself enrolled by my parents at my local high school. Which I sometimes walked (about 3 miles) home from. I sailed through the remainder of my school experience and lost most of the study ethic I had developed in Brooklyn. This deficiency later came full bloom.
A number of years I ago I talked with my mom about that experience and realized that my mom saw my illness as an opportunity to pull me out of dangerous Brooklyn. She shared with me of how she worried everyday I travelled to Brooklyn, a place where violence was frequent in that era. My mom did what she believed to be in my best interest. To this day I wonder if it was. School was never quite the same after I left Brooklyn. And I was a bit different.
The moral, I think, is that we need to understand the inner motives that drive us to make decisions for our children. Sometimes fear and other negative inner forces can drive us to act in strange ways. I did with my children. Letting our teenagers go and trusting their wisdom can be a very difficult experience. Not that I know what I am talking about. ツ
... a place that I have been to ... part of the A to Z series.