Get Her Autograph Now

Drama Queen is embarking on a television news career.

Last year, DQ expressed an interest in her school's morning news program. It's an elective class, open only to eighth graders and to get in, seventh graders must submit an application, interview and audition. The program is produced and performed by students and run during first period. She fiddle-farted around and didn't get an application in, and so resigned herself to a Technology elective. Not terrible, but I think she was wistful about the whole thing.

Fast forward several months. Her Tech teacher is the advisor for the news show and asked the class if someone would like to shoot an announcement. DQ was chosen and after the segment was wrapped, the teacher asked DQ why she wasn't taking the news class. He commented that she was a natural and if she wanted to transfer, he'd sign off on it.

She was elated. The praise had her giddy and flushed with triumph. But she was unsure about changing her schedule. She liked her tech class, she had a project partner and didn't want to leave them in the lurch, she was excited about the cumulative project, etc., etc. We finally got down to the meat of it. The class was exclusively popular kids. She didn't really know anyone in the class and it was pretty scary to go in to that environment.

We talked. I cajoled. I advised. I even got a little nasty when she started in on the whole, "my tech partner is one of my best friends, " jazz. She barely knew her partner when they were assigned to each other and if the girl was really a friend, she'd never want DQ to pass on a great opportunity just for her, I said. I even played dirty and pointed out that if she really wanted to go to a theater arts school, she was going to have to have these things in her academic profile. No, I'm not proud of myself.

Last night, she was still undecided, leaning heavily towards staying in Tech. I sat her down, calmly explained why I felt this was a great opportunity and then told her it was absolutely her decision. I wouldn't ask about it or bring it up again until she was ready. I promised to withhold advice until it was asked for (on this topic, anyway). I wouldn't even say, "I told you so, " when she wished she had switched her schedule. I would be proud of her either way. It was agony, folks.

This is where parenting gets hard for me. I look at this situation and see every opportunity I passed on, afraid of rejection and failure. I remember every time I opted not to leave my comfort zone and feel the regret all over again. I want so much more for her in this time of her life. But it is her choice, her life, her school year. My role is advisory now, enforcing only when grades and behavior are questionable. Even that role is shrinking, since she is maturing into a paragon of teen virtue.

The other bug-a-boo is the tendency to lie to herself. Her father does this all the time. He can always manufacture a reason for the most shameful behavior. And he is able to convince himself that these excuses are truth, even the most outrageous fictions. It was the largest contributing factor to the death of our marriage. Well, that and the dozen women he slept with in six years of marriage. I insist that she be honest with herself about her motives. You can imagine how fun those fights are.

She bounced into the car today, giggling and gleeful. I thought it had something to do with the tall, good-looking boy that was hanging around her, making her laugh. Not her boyfriend, I might add. No, she was waving a green paper, which proved to be a request for a schedule change. Apparently, she had stopped by the teacher's room and he told her she had better be there to ask for a schedule change into the news class. She said yes, and he walked her to the office to get the form.

Move over, Katie Couric. The next generation is at the gate.