“Anyway, what do you think, Gramps?”
We’re in the midst of a long conversation where my granddaughter has been explaining the options lying ahead as high school graduation approaches. She’s university-bound for sure, but where and to do what are still up in the air. She already has acceptances from five schools, pending submission of final marks and other documentation, and the choice really is hers. An array of forms from the different schools is scattered on the table in front of us.
My first post-secondary foray began more than sixty years ago, so I’m hardly an informed source for her to be consulting, but this conversation has more to do with our relationship than with my expertise. All five of my grandchildren—siblings and cousins—have always afforded me this courtesy when faced with decisions affecting their lives.
I attribute that to the upbringing they’ve received from their parents—my two daughters and their husbands. My wife and I benefit from the affection and respect for elders that has been inculcated in the children in both families. Even as we become increasingly irrelevant, we remain cherished.
The kids have always been encouraged by their parents to make intelligent choices when they face significant decisions, but more importantly, they’ve been helped to learn strategies for doing that. They’ve learned to distinguish between fact and opinion, between truth and falsehood, between goodwill and venality. They’ve learned to assess the multitude of sources of information they encounter—and to favour those that are fact-based, that are truth-oriented, that appear to advance the common good.
They were encouraged to learn from their mistakes, too, and to understand that failure can be a springboard to important learning.
Along the way, their parents also learned an important lesson, just as my wife and I did while raising our girls: when you help children learn to think for themselves, be prepared for the fact that they may eventually think differently on certain issues than you do.
In any event, here I am being asked my thoughts about my granddaughter’s options going forward. Stroking my chin thoughtfully, I say, “Do you have a particular favourite at this point?”
“I like a couple better than the others, I guess. But they’re all good.”
“What are the things you like that might sway your thinking?”
After a moment, she begins talking about how the academic opportunities at each school might best blend with her as-yet-unfinalized career decisions, including co-op work experience. She talks about where her friends might be going; about the advantages of living in residence, away from home; about the extra-curricular opportunities at each school; about part-time job possibilities around campus; and about the costs associated with each choice.
“Well, you’re certainly considering a lot of factors,” I say. “Are there any deal-breakers or must-haves?”
“There were,” she says. “And I’ve already eliminated schools that don’t offer things I feel are important.”
“What about dead-ends?” I ask. “What are the chances you could find yourself constrained at any of the schools if you decide to switch majors a year or two in?”
She nods as she takes this in, jots a quick note to herself on a sheet of paper listing all the schools.
“That could happen,” I add, reflecting on my own experience those many years ago, when I switched universities after finally deciding on a teaching career following graduation from a journalism program.
“Yeah, and I need to consider the possibility of post-grad work, too,” she says, circling the names of two of the schools.
“For sure!” I say, marvelling at her long focus.
“Okay, Gramps, thanks for your advice!” she says, gathering up her papers. With a kiss on my cheek and a loving hug, she bounces out of the room.
Advice? All I did was ask a few questions. You don’t need advice from me!
“Let me know what you decide,” I call after her. And I comfort myself that perhaps asking questions was the best thing I could have done because, like my other four grandchildren, this little girl knows how to think for herself.
And what do I think? I think that’s good!