Back in my high school days, I enrolled in a Sociology class where our major projects revolved around two significant milestones: marriage and parenthood. We paired up, planned elaborate weddings complete with white gowns, veils, and a cake for a mock ceremony in the auditorium. One of the highlights for me was having a charismatic young teacher play my father as he walked me down the aisle, much to the delight of my classmates.
We role-played various conflicts, and just before our pretend wedding, my “fiancé”—a buddy named Mark—had to persuade my “dad” to grant permission for us to tie the knot. It was a playful glimpse into marriage, and while I appreciate the attempt, I realize now how impossible it is to truly replicate the complexities of real life. Everything from your partner’s quirks to finances and in-laws creates an intricate puzzle with countless combinations.
The next step was to simulate having a baby. We were given a hefty 10-pound bag of flour, told to name it (I dubbed ours “Kayla” in homage to my favorite soap opera character), and issued a set of strict rules: no leaving it in lockers, no dropping it, and we had to take turns caring for it—just like a real baby.
Now that I have a little one of my own, I recognize that the flour sack barely scratched the surface of what parenting is really like. In fact, I can think of several classes that actually prepared me for this wild ride:
- DRAMA: As a parent, you need to master the art of performance. Silly voices? Definitely a plus! I can pretend to be upset while I’m laughing on the inside and switch to a cheerful demeanor when I feel like crying. I’ve donned the roles of a horse, a dog, and even Wonder Woman—bonus points for breaking out my frog voice when singing!
- DEBATE/NEGOTIATION: “It’s bedtime.”
“But why?”
“Because you need to sleep.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re three.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“Can we read one more book first?”
“Just get in bed!” - ALGEBRA: If x represents the number of hours left until I’m woken by a toddler, and y is the number of hours I need to sleep, then y – x equals NOT ENOUGH HOURS IN THE DAY.
- CHEMISTRY: Here’s a fun equation: take one newborn (NB), one hormonal new mother (HNM) multiplied by postpartum anxiety, and add in one relatively sane dad (RSD). What’s the outcome? I’m still figuring that one out. The mixture is still simmering.
- MUSIC APPRECIATION/BAND: Remember that time at band camp? Just kidding! But if you’ve endured the sweet sounds of 5th graders trying to play the Mickey Mouse theme song, you can certainly handle whatever instruments your child decides to play. Let’s be honest, none of us were prodigies back then.
- PHYSICAL EDUCATION: This was where I learned to navigate the backfield during field hockey and create amusing songs about our quirky coach to the tune of Barry Manilow’s “Copacabana.” Not exactly parenting skills, but hey, it’s something!
- HOME ECONOMICS: Ah, home ec—the class meant to teach us the ins and outs of homemaking. I still struggle with sewing, thanks to an unforgettable project involving the most hideous pink sweatpants ever created. However, I can whip up a meal from appetizers to dessert using nothing but a roll of Pillsbury biscuits, thanks to that class.
So, thank you, Elkhart Memorial High School! I did learn a thing or two after all. If you’re interested in more about parenting and home insemination, check out this informative post on home insemination kits. And for further insights into artificial insemination, Make a Mom is a great resource. For a deeper understanding of pregnancy options, this Wikipedia page offers excellent information.
In summary, high school may not have prepared me for every aspect of parenthood, but it certainly laid the foundation for the unpredictable journey ahead. From acting skills to negotiation tactics, I owe a lot to those classes that seemed trivial at the time.