In my recent blog post, I was living as a squater in an empty apartment, eating cereal for two of my daily meals.
Oh, has life been on the up-swing since then!
I’m living in a house, a house with heated tiles. My feet are NEVER cold anymore! I’m also living with a dog for the first time in my life, and I do enjoy it.
My new roommates are great, but we never really see each other except for the rare evenings when we’re all free. I’ll see them even less starting today since travel season is starting up once again. I am beyond ready to hit the road.
As far as the job goes, things have been pretty standard. I have had two phone calls in the past week, though, that have reiterated the importance of never becoming a helicopter parent. Here goes:
Phone call #1 has been a recurring situation with this one student. I’ve had about 5 calls from her since November, each around 10 a.m. when she should be in class.
She introduces herself as the student, but I am fully aware that it is the mother who is calling. First of all, she has the most mother-toned voice possible, and there is always a toddler talking or crying in the background.
I don’t understand why she thinks it’s necessary to pretend she is her daughter to get her questions answered, and if she really wanted to fool me, she should wait to call outside of school hours. Secondly, these are the most basic of questions. Have the student call herself.
Phone call #2. This is a doozy.
A mother called me two days ago in a complete panic. She started the conversation without a hello or and introduction but rather, “This is all my fault! I don’t even know how this could have happened, but please don’t penalize my boys for this!”
Whoa, slow your roll!
“Okay, ma’am, I’m sure this is nothing we can’t fix. Can you explain to me what happened?” I tried comforting her.
“You don’t understand! I lost their login information for their applications. We turned this house upside down last night looking for the information. I know I wouldn’t throw something like that away. How do we fix this!?!?!” she shouted.
“Well, that is definitely something I can take care of, so no need to worry,” I said.
She repeats, “You don’t understand! I lost their login information for their applications. We turned this house upside down last night looking for the information. I know I wouldn’t throw something like that away. How do we fix this!?!?!”
“Again, ma’am, this isn’t a problem. Have your sons already been admitted? I can look them up on our database and reset their passwords,” I coaxed.
“YES! They’ve been admitted, but I LOST their username and password. I just don’t know what to do at this point. Are they going to get their admission revoked? she shouted again (Uh… FYI you can’t just ‘get your admission revoked’ like that).
“No, no. You haven’t. I promise. Because they actually need to create an entire new password and username once they’re admitted, so the information you may have misplaced is no longer relevant. So, no worries at all!” I affirmed.
She wasn’t getting the picture. I know I like to exaggerate from time to time, but this is no lie; I was on the phone with her for 15 minutes trying to get her settled down and assure her that she did not jeopardize her sons’ futures by losing a slip of paper with irrelevant material on it.
But finally, after I accidentally chuckled while explaining to her that this was no big deal, she must have understood that all really was okay and it really was a laughing matter. Thank goodness.
These twins are probably counting the days until they move into their dorm room. I don’t blame them.