As the parent of a high school junior, the pressure is really ramping up as the school year wraps up. It’s all about college prep now: ACT tests, financial aid workshops, campus tours—you name it, there’s a lot on the plate for my son, Ethan, and a mountain of worry for us parents.
According to the college checklists I’ve seen, I should be knee-deep in planning and stressing out. But I haven’t signed Ethan up for an ACT prep course or looked into admissions requirements for local universities. We’ve skipped college fairs, campus visits, and even research on scholarships.
To be honest, Ethan is a pretty average student, and his chances of getting into the more prestigious universities are slim, even for state schools. But my indifference runs deeper than that. While I wholeheartedly believe in the value of higher education, I also recognize that not every teenager is ready for that leap right after high school—or maybe even ever.
I can relate to that feeling. My own high school years were filled with social events and creative pursuits, but when it came to academics, let’s just say there’s a reason I was grounded for half of my senior year. I could focus intensely on subjects like creative writing or choir, but I’d zone out during math or science classes. It wasn’t just poor study habits; I simply didn’t see the value in putting in the effort.
When my friends headed off to college, I followed them to a mid-sized state university. It was a blast, but academically, I struggled. I managed to stick it out for four semesters before dropping out, facing a mediocre GPA and a mountain of student debt—all while still having no clue about what I wanted to be when I grew up.
Eventually, I went back to school as a mother and a more mature adult. I excelled this time, earning straight A’s. But when I sold a piece to a national magazine and realized I could make real money as a writer, I began to question if college was the right path for me. Balancing a freelance career with finishing my degree while raising little ones felt overwhelming, so I made the decision to drop out again—and I’ve never regretted it.
Now, over a decade later, I find myself trying to get excited about the very thing I didn’t finish myself.
The other day, Ethan casually remarked, “College is a scam.”
“No, it’s not!” I retorted, almost defensively.
He shot back, “Well, neither you nor Dad graduated, and you both seem fine.”
He’s got a point. My partner, Dave, didn’t complete college either, but he’s thriving in his IT career thanks to certifications and a strong work ethic. Meanwhile, I’ve been a full-time writer for nearly a decade. Together, we’re doing well; we’re not rich, but we’re comfortable and our family is taken care of.
I know we’re not the norm. A college degree often opens doors, and not everyone is suited for the self-employment route—I sometimes wonder if I’m a bit crazy for choosing this unpredictable lifestyle.
But out of our five children, it was inevitable that at least one would be like us—our eldest, Ethan, is navigating this unique path as our first experimental child; the one under the most pressure to succeed according to traditional standards.
Make no mistake, I fully believe Ethan will achieve great things and make us proud, but I also don’t see his journey following the conventional route of high school to college to career. A simple chat with him reassures me he’ll carve out his own path.
If more parents embraced this mindset, we could save many young adults from unnecessary stress, struggle, and the burden of crippling debt.
Interestingly, my perspective is quite the opposite of the typical parent. I appreciate the beauty of a self-directed career, I take pride in what I’ve accomplished without a degree, and I’m pretty confident that Dave and I are more financially stable than if we’d taken the traditional route.
Sure, I sometimes worry about what other parents think of my relaxed approach to Ethan’s post-high school plans, but at the end of the day, my primary role as a parent is to understand and support each child for who they are, guiding them into adulthood in a way that suits them best—whether it aligns with societal expectations or not.
Some of our kids will undoubtedly want to attend college, and while I may not fully grasp that desire, I’m totally on board with it. But if Ethan takes a couple of years off, pursues his passion, or even never goes to college—if he dives into entrepreneurship, learns a trade, or becomes an artist as long as he’s engaged and growing—that’s more than okay by me.
For more insights on navigating paths like these, you can check out this article on home insemination. It’s a great resource for understanding different family journeys. Another excellent read can be found at Make a Mom, where they provide valuable information on family planning. And for those looking for pregnancy insights, Wikipedia is a fantastic resource!
To summarize, my approach to Ethan’s future is rooted in flexibility and understanding. College isn’t the only path to success, and I’m committed to supporting him as he discovers his unique journey.