Kids go off to college. HMMMM a guest room in our future.

      I wrote this article for the San Francisco Chronicle years ago when my children were going off to college. Now the children of several friends are going and the discussion arose again. What do you do with the room, when the kids go off to college? Here are some ideas. More recently many of us are experiencing the "joy" of their return.  I cover that in an article titled "The birds are back."

How to gain space when your child goes off to college -- without alienating the previous occupant

Susan DeMersseman, Special to The Chronicle

Wednesday, July 30, 2003

I overheard a neighbor ask my newly graduated daughter, "Is your mother getting sad about you leaving for college?" Lauren's reply: "Nope, she's already decided on the new paint color for my room."
That wasn't entirely true. I hadn't decided yet. And I, like parents all over the country, have mixed feelings about this big transition.
For most families the departure of a youngster for college brings up all kinds of feelings, but it also presents some very practical issues. One is how to deal with the vacated room. There are moms and dads who, while mourning the passage, are thinking about the wonderful possibility of a home office, exercise room or guest room.
We already had a home office, so our goal was a guest room. The mother of one of Lauren's friends also wanted a guest room but planned few changes. That's because her daughter's room already looked like a guest room. My daughter's room, on the other hand, looks like a sari shop, inhabited by an origami expert who has traveled in Africa and collects bags of all kinds. So significant changes were in order.
My friend Mary Jo recalled how she consoled herself after the departure of her son by enjoying the luxury of a room where she could keep her sewing machine set up all the time.
In contrast, another mother was feeling so sad about her daughter leaving that she hadn't even considered changing the room. Mourning in advance, she seemed to be planning the room as a sort of shrine to the departed college student.
I grew up in a little Midwestern town where we dealt with all emotional matters by doing chores. When someone passed away, we baked for the family; we shoveled the snow, mowed the lawn or raked the leaves. So it seemed only natural to address this emotional event with some practical action.

negotiating change

My daughter and I decided to embark upon the adventure in a systematic way and to negotiate the changes so that she would feel comfortable when she returned and the room could be used in her absence.
We did this by talking to other people who were going through this change, or who had already passed through this phase. We made our individual wish lists and compromised on changes. We considered the many issues involved, such as storage, furniture changes and repainting.

my wish list

-- A palette that would allow me to use a collection of vintage linens.
-- To use the beautiful antique bed from my mother.
-- To repaint.
-- Twenty-four inches of hanging space in the closet and two empty drawers in the dresser.
-- The posters to come down.
-- The 3-foot tall stuffed dog to be placed in storage.

lauren's wish list

-- A place for Poppy to sleep. (This is the resident of the room who will be staying and like most cats requires a place to take her 10-hour daily nap.)
-- My tall desk to stay.
-- My room color sky blue.
-- My goldfish to stay.
-- Some of my artwork to be framed and hung.

work with each other

In surveying her classmates, Lauren found that the opinions were very mixed about what should be done with their rooms. Given this, it is important to make no assumption and to be explicit on both sides about how it will be done. From our research and our own process we came up with these suggestions and considerations:
-- Be aware of the temperament of the departing student. Some may not care what happens once they're out the door and others may need the comfort of a safe harbor.
-- Do talk about the changes each party would like and be specific. There may be little things that mean a lot.
-- A lot of important stuff is quite portable and can be stored in the room and brought back out during return visits.
-- If the student is going to school nearby, go slow on major changes.
-- Invest in lots of clear plastic storage boxes and label each in detail.
-- Have a "going to college" garage sale with a group of friends to thin out possessions.
-- If a younger sibling will finally be getting his or her own room, make specific provisions for a welcoming and personal space for the return visits of the college student. Be sensitive about this transfer of turf.
-- If the room becomes an office, include a daybed and keep a favorite comforter in the closet.
The mother of a son has always wanted a Laura Ashley/Country French guest room. She devised a plan to have that and still let her son return to his denim den.
She has a new floral duvet cover and shams, a pretty lamp and framed prints.
In his closet will be a space to store his comforter, sports trophies and NBA posters. She figures it will take about 30 minutes to switch the accessories when her son is coming home.
That's my plan too. I can change the comforter, stick up some posters, throw a few stuffed animals on the bed, fill the laundry basket to overflowing,
and my daughter will feel right at home.

it's still home

It's fairly common knowledge that people often create conflict to make parting easier. By talking about these things ahead of time, what could be a tumultuous departure can be made smoother. Most youngsters, like their parents,
have mixed feelings. They are eager to go, but want a nest to return to.
As a devoted nester I believe it is important to provide our big kids with a sense of belonging. Most valuable is the care and acceptance that families give us, but it is also the comfort of the familiar, whether it's a Tim Duncan poster, a stuffed turtle or a Power Puff Girl lamp. If it's important to your child, it's important.
A Web survey of graduating college students found that 62 percent planned to return and spend some significant time living back at home. Depending upon the parents and child, that might prompt a more or less significant remodel of the room.
One mother of a college senior cautioned, "Just make sure that you take the bed out of the room." On the other hand, parents of a twentysomething son said that the time he spent back home after college was the most fun they'd had with him since he was a toddler.
All parents said that kids who come home after being away at college seem to appreciate home more. I'm going with that report and believe it will be true no matter what shade of blue we paint the room.

Susan DeMersseman is a psychologist and parent educator in Berkeley. E-mail her at home@sfchronicle.com.

http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2003/07/30/HO79041.DTL

This article appeared on page HO - 1 of the San Francisco Chronicle

Kindergarten -- First Day -- Again

FIRST DAY OF KINDERGARTEN

     I’ve watched first days of Kindergarten as a mother and as a school psychologist for almost 40 years. On these days I've seen events that were heart rending, humorous, embarrassing and inspiring.

      Some schools allow parents to stay for a while. Others  forbid them to even enter the room. That usually moves the drama to the hall. I’ve watched teachers skillfully gather the group to a circle for a story and others deal helplessly with three or four crying five year olds.  Sometimes I have had to usher the crying 35 year olds out of the room and to my office. 

Many kids these days have had lots of preschool so the separation is less traumatic, but not for mom and dad camcorder in hand, and tears in their eyes. For this event I’ve never been able to maintain that professional psychological distance we’re supposed to have. I’ve often shed a few tears even before the parents and the kids, so I took my own babes into this monumental transition wondering if I would fall apart when it was our turn.  I did -- just a little. Some were tears of joy when a friend took my shy daughter under her wing (they are still friends 23 years later). With my son the tears quickly dried with shock when he introduced himself as “junkyard dog”. He was the happiest Kindergartener you’ve ever seen. He saved all his tears for the last day of Kindergarten when he clung to his beautiful young teacher and sobbed at the prospect of leaving her.

            I have often thought that I should take my own camcorder and film what takes place 10 minutes after the parents leave, so they could see how quickly kids adjust. Instead I have made many phone calls reporting how well their child recovered to ease the hearts of parents suffering their own separation.

            At one school the PTA has a coffee and rolls event in the auditorium with lots of tables for signups and information. It is the grown up version of gathering them for a story and usually eases the parental transition.

            I always treasure this little part of my work. To be present at such a significant moment for so many families is a gift.  When called upon for advice I encourage parents to send their child into the big world with the message, “I will miss you too. I know this is a little scary, but I know you can do it. I believe in you, and I can’t wait to hear all about your day.”      
           Life is short; childhood is shorter. I believe we should honor this precious time and its painful and joyful steps.

African American Sons

This piece was published last year in the Christian Science Monitor. The outcome of the trial is now known, but the outcome has increased the dialogue on this topic and increased the concern among parents of African American children. Is it too much to hope that this dialogue will bring about some positive results and prevent the loss of other children?

Opinion

How to raise African-American boys like Trayvon Martin to be careful, not paranoid

The fatal shooting of Trayvon Martin by neighborhood watch volunteer George Zimmerman has opened a dialogue on broader issues. One is the unique challenge parents face in teaching African-American children to be safe but not fearful.

No matter the outcome of the controversy surrounding the fatal shooting of Trayvon Martin by neighborhood watch volunteer George Zimmerman in Florida late this February, the tragedy has opened a dialogue on broader issues. One is the unique challenge parents face in teaching African-American children to be safe but not fearful.

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Over the past few weeks, Americans are hearing from the parents of African-American children and even national figures about what special cautions go into raising their children.

My son was just seven when he climbed into the car one day after school, sat in silence for a minute, then said, “Something really unfair happened at school today.” He was so calm that I expected to hear about something that happened to someone else.

He had left his lunch tray outside while he went into the bathroom. When he returned he found that someone had stepped on his tray. The orange juice had spilled and the hot dog had been “smushed.” As he carried the remains to the garbage can, some juice dripped on the back of a classmate’s sweatshirt.

He apologized, but the girl’s little friend decided this was something worth telling the yard supervisor about. The yard supervisor, probably busy and distracted, sent him up to the principal.

What bothered my son the most was that the yard person didn’t listen to him. “I kept telling her it was an accident and that I said ‘sorry.’” No one was in the office, so he waited for a while, then went next door to his classroom, in a self-imposed time-out.

My son’s goal at that age was to grow up and be a comedian on TV, so he was no stranger to consequences. Spilling juice on someone, however, was not something he would consider amusing.

I did my best job as mother-detective and discerned that the situation had unfolded pretty much as he described it. I asked if he wanted me to do anything about it, and he thought for a minute. “I guess not,” he decided.

“You don’t want me to call about the yard teacher?”

“No,” he said. “Her son is nice, but she’s strict as a whip.”

It was clear from the reaction that, for him, the incident was unfair, but it was over. He seemed to understand, at his young age, that there would be some random unfairness in life.

And I was deeply grateful for that mature realization. As an African-American male, if he feels he must go toe to toe over every such situation, he will not survive.

In the urban community where I work as a psychologist, I am concerned about many of the young men I’ve worked with. They seem so ready to jump into conflicts over the smallest things. Some of it seems related to a sense of self worth so fragile that the smallest insult or perceived insult seems worth risking everything.t 

The incident with my son came in the same week that a friend at work expressed her relief that her son had just turned 22 and was now out of the most vulnerable demographic group – African-American males between 13 and 21. Statistics indicate that this is the group most vulnerable to violent death.

After several stops by policemen, her son quit driving his nice car on some trips. Instead he used the little family sedan to travel into certain neighborhoods. Though it was not fair, she was relieved that he had found a practical, simple way to avoid some of the risks of his life.

I have tried to teach my children not to interpret every random irritation as a personal injustice. When my children were little and said, “That’s not fair,” I reminded them that there is a difference between “not fair” and “I don’t like it.” We don’t like a lot of things that have little to do with fairness, and even unfairness can be pretty random.

The more I thought about my son’s reaction, the more comforted I was. I thought that as a teenager, if he encountered a biased policeman, he would be calm and would not bring on some possible wrath the officer had to unload. He would know how to avoid dangerous conflicts with other teenagers.

He would survive and I hope become a peacemaker and a fighter for bigger causes – not just a petty scrapper, making sure that every person he encountered treated him the way he wanted. I don’t know if our son was just blessed with a sense of proportion or if his father and I had done something right.

Life doesn’t provide a smooth path no matter what our heritage. A sense of self worth and basic good sense will help all kids navigate their experiences more peacefully, regardless of the obstacles, but even this will not always insure their safety.

We, like the parents of many African-American children, have had to teach our son specific strategies to be safe. We have tried to impart a perspective that is careful but not paranoid. We pray it will be enough.

Our son has “made it” to 25, and I am so grateful. But I still worry about him and all the other young men without his kind of family support and without his good luck. How will they stay safe?

Susan DeMersseman is a psychologist and parent educator.

COMPOST SMOOTHIES? YUP.

My son recently helped me do my annual compost sifting. When, with pride, I showed him an apple with about 100 worms working on it he said, "Ya know , Mom, I think you're a lot more excited about that than most people would be." He may have been right, but please share this with other devoted gardeners. I think they'll understand.

Compost stirs up into rich 'smoothie'

 Susan DeMersseman

Published 4:00 am, Wednesday, May 14, 2003

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I used to feel a bit guilty putting all that great organic material down the garbage disposal. I often wished that I had a valve I could switch that would channel the perfectly ground-up material directly into a compost bin.

When I got the bin from our county, I started saving fruit and vegetable peels and other organic material in a bowl next to the sink. That worked fairly well, but the little neighborhood beasties were often so delighted with what went into the bin that I felt as if I was doing a raccoon smorgasbord each evening. And when the crowd at the smorgasbord got too big or too rowdy we had to listen to the horrible squeals of their arguments over that last tasty bit of watermelon rind or corncob.

The other problem was that some items seemed quite resistant to decomposition. It appeared that the remains of Thanksgiving dinner were still intact when we put in the remains from Easter dinner.

Then one day, as I looked at the bowl full of compostable goodies next to the blender, it hit me: compost smoothies! It solved my two composting obstacles and delighted my youngsters and their friends. After a cup or two of water, it almost didn't matter what else went in -- the coffee grounds with filter, eggshells, fruit and vegetable peels, dead potatoes and lint (all cotton) from the clothes dryer.

The kids and their friends loved to make it as "yucky" as possible. They shouted enthusiastically "Oh gross!" And the raccoons shouted "Oh darn!" (Guess they're not so fond of coffee-filter gazpacho.)

Poured over the leaves and grass clippings, it doesn't attract critters and it considerably speeds up decomposition.

The kids became experts, knowing just the right amount of water, paper and produce scraps. Their skill at creating compost smoothies has given them an appreciation of recycling and a greater investment in the garden.

The raccoons may not be happy but the earthworms are, and our compost is beautiful -- fine-textured and rich. Happy kids, happy plants and unhappy raccoons -- it's the perfect combination.

Here's the recipe:

-- Make sure to use enough water so that the motor on the blender is not straining.

-- Start slowly until you know what your blender can handle.

-- Cut large pieces or tough material into smaller pieces before putting in the blender.

-- Pour the smoothie evenly over the leaves and grass so that there aren't soggy spots in the compost.

-- Continue to turn the contents of the bin occasionally for aeration.

RETIREMENT? NO, REWIREMENT

I wrote the post below two years ago. Revisiting it today I'm surprised by how many things I have accomplished on the list. But I've also found time to add to this list and make new ones. 

It's my first day. After 35 years as a psychologist I am done. Well, sort of. Being a psychologist is a hard habit to break.  So I am rewiring, rather than retiring. I will simply apply the skills in a different direction. 

People always ask, "What are you going to do with your time?" I am a listaholic, so I already have several pages of plans, including the following:

I want to finish some articles, to write new ones and to submit more.

I want to get my children's book published.

I want to find a way to share what I've learned in 35 years of working with families (maybe youtube videos?)

I want to teach an adult to read.

I want to volunteer at a Head Start program and help little ones get ready for the big world of Kindergarten. 

I want to relearn French and maybe go to Haiti to help with reconstruction. 

I want to go to Greece, Vietnam and the Carolinas. 

I want to visit my wonderful family in South Dakota more often.

I want to grocery shop in the morning in the middle of the week and help short senior citizens reach things on the top shelves -- and visit for a while if they want to talk. 

I want to have time to thoughtfully edit my possessions and pass things along to young friends and family. Even if I live to be 90, I won't need all this stuff.

I want to paint again.

I want to join a gym and go often -- even when there's not a parking place in front.

I want to disconnect a little from judging my life by productivity (considering my list --fat chance!)

I appreciate every day that I can function under my  own power, and I will continue to do that.