As a parent, the pressure surrounding my eldest son’s high school journey is palpable. With him now in his junior year, the college preparation race is heating up. ACTs, campus visits, financial aid seminars—there’s a daunting list of tasks for him to tackle and a mountain of worries for me to navigate.
According to every college checklist I’ve come across, I should be much more proactive in planning and fretting. I haven’t enrolled Ethan in an ACT prep course, nor have I delved into the admissions criteria of local universities. We haven’t participated in any college fairs or scheduled any campus tours, nor researched the plethora of scholarships available.
To be honest, the likelihood of Ethan—a decidedly average student—gaining admission to our state’s top universities is slim, especially for merit-based financial aid. However, my indifference runs deeper than that. While I appreciate the value of higher education, I also recognize that many young people aren’t quite ready to leap into college right after high school, or maybe even at all.
I can empathize with that sentiment. My high school years were filled with social engagements and creative pursuits, but when it came to academics, let’s just say I had my share of distractions. I would diligently focus during music and art classes, yet I often found myself lost in daydreams during math or science lectures. It wasn’t merely a lack of study skills; I simply didn’t care enough about the outcomes to invest the effort, regardless of the repercussions.
When my friends embarked on their college journeys, I felt compelled to follow suit and ended up at a medium-sized state university. While I had my share of fun, my academic performance suffered. After four semesters, I dropped out with a dismal GPA and a hefty student debt, no clearer on my future aspirations than I was as a teenager.
Eventually, I returned to education as an adult and a parent. This time around, I was determined to excel. I focused intently, earned top grades, and even landed a paying writing gig with a national magazine. That experience made me question whether a degree was necessary for my success. I had already proven I could earn a living as a writer, and juggling a freelance career with a degree seemed overwhelming, particularly with two young kids at home.
So, I made the decision to leave school once again—and this time, I have no regrets. Fast forward over a decade, and I find myself grappling with the challenge of encouraging my son to pursue something I didn’t finish myself.
“College is a scam,” Ethan casually remarked the other day.
“No, it’s not!” I quickly defended—almost feeling guilty.
“Oh really? Neither you nor Dad completed your degrees, and you’re both doing fine.”
He has a point. My partner, Jake, has a similar educational background and thrives as an IT technician thanks to industry certifications. His success stems from determination, self-directed learning, and a warm personality that builds trust with clients. As for me, I’ve enjoyed a decade-long writing career. Together, we’re not wealthy, but we lead comfortable lives, ensuring our family has what it needs.
I know that Jake and I are exceptions to the rule. A college degree can enhance employability for many, and self-employment isn’t feasible for everyone—a reality I acknowledge, as I sometimes wonder if I’m a bit unconventional for preferring this unpredictable lifestyle.
Given that we have five children, it’s natural for at least one of them to follow our nontraditional path. In this case, it’s Ethan, who is ironically our firstborn—the one whose success feels most impacted by our learning experiences as parents. The pressure on him to succeed is palpable.
I firmly believe that Ethan will accomplish great things and make us proud. However, I don’t envision a linear route for him from high school to college and then to a career. A simple conversation with him reassures me that he’ll forge his own unique path.
If more parents embraced this perspective, it could save many young adults from unnecessary stress, heartache, and burdensome debt. In some ways, my situation contrasts sharply with that of the typical parent. I admire the freedom of a self-directed career, take pride in my achievements without a degree, and suspect that Jake and I are financially better off than we might have been had we followed a more conventional route.
Yes, I sometimes wonder what other parents think of my laid-back attitude toward Ethan’s post-high school plans. Yet ultimately, my most important role as a parent is to understand and appreciate each child for their individuality, guiding them into adulthood in the way that best suits them—whether it aligns with societal expectations or not.
Some of our children may indeed wish to attend college, and while I might not fully grasp that desire, I wholeheartedly support it. But if Ethan takes a year, two years, or even five to find his way—or if he decides to pursue a business, trade, or artistic career instead of a college degree—as long as he’s engaged, working hard, and broadening his horizons, I’ll be more than content with his journey.
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Summary
As a parent, I embrace the idea that college is not the only path to success for my son, Ethan. While society pushes the traditional route, I believe in supporting his unique journey, whether it leads him to college or not. Our own experiences—both my partner’s and mine—have taught us the value of self-directed learning and the importance of finding a fulfilling career that may not require a degree.
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