The Wealthy, Education and the Rest of us.

In the news recently was the arrest of 50 or so extremely wealthy folks who cheated the system to get their kids into a good college.

It's easy to look at my hard-working, middle class (and if you ask me, exceptionally brilliant) kid, contrast him with the young YouTube "influencers" who benefitted from the crimes of their parents, and jump into the "filthy rich people suck" pool.

ALSO recently(not in the news, but in our house), this bit: My son is going to Prep School in the fall. Lordy, that's a sentence I never thought I'd say! Prep school is a bit of a financial reach for the 'unwashed masses.' Since my husband and I live a pretty standard middle-class life, defined by public schools, used cars, and 40-hour work weeks, I'd say that's us for sure. We're not the working poor by any means, but our 20th anniversary trip this summer will likely be a local state park for fishing, not a private island in the Caribbean.

Regardless of our finances, Prep School it is - because earlier this week we were informed that he had received a full scholarship (worth an estimated $250k all told) that includes not only tuition, but room and board, books, uniforms, laptop, and two educational trips abroad.

The fact is, our good fortune has only come because of one of those filthy rich folks. The award my son received is the Frank Batten award, named for a co-founder of The Weather Channel. This man, with more money than God (I don't actually know how rich he was, but had to be really rich) donated in excess of $50 million to this Prep School. Did he get a tax deduction? Probably. Does he now have a named legacy that will make him more famous in death than in life? Most definitely. BUT, whatever his motivation, Frank Batten gave his own money to benefit those who would not be able to have the experiences he enjoyed; the experiences that made him the success he was.

Our kid has been fortunate over the years to meet a wide variety of people. A great number of those are or were hockey teammates from the Chicago-area suburbs known as "The North Shore." This is where Michael Jordan, the owners of the Chicago Bears, and folks with the last name Walgreens keep their homes. Remember the awesome house in Ferris Buehler's Day Off? That's someone's real home in The North Shore.

Over those years, we have tried very hard to show him how to look past what people have and instead to notice who they are. Character over possessions. Kindness over exclusivity. Sometimes a friend or acquaintance would very clearly show him that lesson. We have met those who are genuinely kind, and others who will spend anything to 'help' the poor, provided everyone knows it and worships them - and then they'll expect a favor in return later. When we notice these things, we point them out.

But this week - a condensed lesson. Thanks to Frank Batten and Felicity Huffman et al, it has never been more clear: Being rich doesn't excuse you from being a jerk. And just being rich doesn't make you a jerk.

Money will simply cause you to become *more* of what you already are, it will not change your true nature.

Nick has long looked at our lives and wanted to one day be rich. He doesn't want his wife to have to work, or his kids to have to wonder if they can afford vacation. It's our job to raise him so that when he gets there, he is Frank Batten.

When reviewing his materials for this next big adventure, Nick said that he wanted to be rich enough so that he can send his kids to Culver, they'll never NEED a Batten scholarship, and he can help other kids get there.

I'm grateful we got to learn who Frank Batten is, and glad we now have him as a role model for our son. The kid learns quickly. Let's hope this one sticks.

My son is a hockey player… until he’s not. What Next?

Since 2010, the season preceding the Blackhawks’ first Stanley Cup in a generation, my son has been smitten with hockey. He started ‘late’ as some kids go, since he didn’t learn to skate until 5 years old, but he’s had more success than most over his near-decade of playing.

Four state titles and two league titles. For five seasons he made the top team, three of those years that team was not just the top at his organization, but also the top in the nation. This year he’s been made captain, a responsibility he takes very seriously. He commiserates with his alternate captains (not assistant, but alternate- this is HOCKEY), and strategizes with his coaches. He strives to set an example and, I’ve been told, is the consummate teammate. Selfless, hardworking and humble in all things.

He’s met hall-of-famers and been coached by some of the best. He’s quit sport after sport – not because he didn’t have time, but because no other sport brought him the absolute and total joy that he feels on the ice (his words, not mine). He was measuring all other sports against the fun he was having with hockey, and nothing else compared, it wasn’t even close. His friends are his teammates, his study is the car, his weekends are tournaments, and his bedtime is still earlier than many his age because chances are he has a game or practice tomorrow.

For the past 9 hockey seasons, my life has been filled with, “We can’t, there’s hockey this weekend.” But we appear to be looking at the end of the road.

Why now? Why are we mentally preparing for the end when he is still so ardently in love? Well, he isn’t growing. He’s a second-year bantam, and if you don’t know, that means full contact. He’s 14 years old (14 and-a-half really) and only 5’1” and 102 pounds. When he was cut from that top team, it was after they had moved him from his preferred position to one he’d never played before because they were looking to “go bigger” on defense. All the 14-year-old defensemen on that team are 5’7” and 140+.

There have been many discussions with folks that end with another reassuring us that "he’ll get there; he’s just a late bloomer; his parents are tall, and eventually he’ll grow." These aren’t hockey parents. Hockey parents don’t try to comfort. They know. If he grows late, he’ll be left behind. They smile wistfully and nod sympathetically because they know. Other kids are in the weight room, but lifting pre-puberty can stunt one’s growth – which we certainly don’t need!

In less than a month, this season is over. Next year, if he doesn’t grow, who knows if he'll play. He won’t be able to play High School (Against 6’ tall 18-year-olds) because no coach in his right mind would risk that liability.

So, when he’s no longer a hockey player, what will he be? Well, thankfully, he’s got a bevy of other interests that really haven’t been explored, so maybe he’ll be a musician (he plays piano) or a scientist. He’ll read, and write and draw and strategize and tell jokes and ride his bike.

Being a hockey player was big for him, but what being a hockey player taught him will continue to be big for his future. He worked and sacrificed for his team. He learned to work with people he didn’t necessarily like, and take direction from adults he didn’t necessarily agree with. He learned to lose with grace and more importantly, win with compassion. He learned the importance of attitude, and the impact that can have on your performance. He became a coachable kid, and his classroom teachers say it shows.

Once we read an article about the man who was attending his son’s last hockey game. The boy was giving up competitive hockey to attend university. My son had once dreamed of doing both. Because he’s on the far right of the IQ curve, he wondered about playing for the Ivy League and sported a Harvard Hockey sweatshirt at 8 years old. We are faced with attending our son’s last competitive hockey game, not of his choosing, and how we navigate this next year will make a difference.

Our hearts break with every doctor visit when once again, he hasn’t grown. Our hearts ache as we hear from coaches how well he plays “for his size.”

When we say goodbye to this sport, to the rink, it will be bittersweet. Like watching our son’s first heartbreak. His first love is being snatched away by a bigger, stronger kid. But we will always remember the joy it brought, and be grateful for the smiles.

Nick and teammates celebrating their 2018 state title after defeating the team that had cut him.