In 8th Grade, the Course to College Must Be Charted

Our son, Paul, is 13: fluctuating between wanting to play “fort” with friends in the back yard and wanting quiet time to himself; in transition from “The Hardy Boys” to Michael Crichton’s “Sphere;” and drawn both to “Micro-Machines” collector toys and the DOS-prompt of a home computer. The idea of driving a car unnerves him, but still he jumps at the chance to back the car out of the garage so he can get to the lawn mower.

He’s in eighth grade, which to me was nothing more than a springboard to the serious regimen of high school. In high school, we told him, he would have to buckle down, do the best he could and set his sights on college. Junior high, we said, is his last bastion of childhood. Enjoy it, kid.

It turns out, though, that a student’s future in college may well be determined by the end of the eighth grade, and we were almost asleep at the switch.

We are preparing this week to register Paul for his classes at San Pasqual High School. And, by definition, that means not just for his freshman year. In fact, we will have to determine, in theme and direction, virtually all his high school classes, which, in turn, will set the stage for college. There’s more involved than deciding if he wants wood shop, metal shop or photo I.

The other night was high school orientation for parents, and this being our first time through the process, we found we aged four years in one evening.

The counselors gave their spiels: push your kid, challenge your kid, but don’t put too much stress on him. So what’s the clue, Mr. Counselor, a red-yellow-green light atop his head?

The counselors told us what was required of our children to graduate no-frills from high school. Then they outlined the prerequisites if our child aspires to go to a state university, like San Diego State or, maybe eventually, Cal State San Marcos. Interested in the UC system? Well, you’ll need different classes still. A private, top-flight school? Hmmm, let’s talk afterwards.

So the game board is something like this:

If he wants to go to San Diego State, he needs--among other things--two years of science, two years of a foreign language and a year of “fine arts,” such as drama, photography or music. The state universities, we’re told, want well-rounded students.

The UC system also requires two years of science--including a lab science in the 10th, 11th or 12th grade. But the school suggests we take at least two years of lab science. And, if our child has any hope of getting the UC campus of his choice, he had better take four years of lab sciences, and get A’s to boot. UC also wants a minimum two years of foreign language; the high school counselors suggest four. (The choices are French, German and Spanish and, living in San Diego, the choice seems obvious. Will Japanese one day be offered?)

There are only so many opportunities for “electives,” which I remember as one of the few chances in high school to kick back and have fun, pursuing a class for the pure pleasure of it. In fact, if we prime our son for UC, he’s only got three electives to play with, what with all the sciences and foreign languages he’ll be taking.

But what if he decides he might, just might, want to go to San Diego State? He needs a year of fine arts. So, to cover our bases, we’ll plug in two semesters of, say, photography or ceramics into his three semesters of electives. Now he’s got one semester of elective flexibility.

He loves computers, but intro to computers, which the counselors say is a great class and virtually a “must,” is a yearlong course. Won’t fit. Hey, driver’s education is not required for graduation. I can teach him how to drive at home so he can pick up another elective semester in 10th grade and get his computer class. But wait! Driver’s ed gives us a break on car insurance. Driver’s ed is in, computers are out.

Still, intro to computers will fit if he drops one of his four sciences--and that means he might not get the UC campus of his choice. OK, so we put him on a four-year track to get him into San Diego State, and at age 13 he’s already precluded from some post-secondary opportunities. He’ll plan just two years of a foreign language, throw in a intro-to-computer class and a computer-assisted drafting class! Oops, the computer drafting class requires two semesters of drafting first. No room.

Let’s complicate matters. To qualify for either the UC or state university system, each English, math, science and history-civics class he takes must be college prep. No problem, right?

Well, Paul’s English teacher at Del Dios Middle School, who is giving him a B, recommends that Paul take a “general” English class, versus college-prep. This, despite her own evaluation to his high school counselors that says Paul is a “good student!” who is above average in his attitude and study habits. She says we shouldn’t push our son too hard, because he’s such a nice boy.

Fine, lady, but if he takes even one semester of “general” English, he won’t qualify for either UC or San Diego State, because it ain’t college-prep English. And we wouldn’t even be able to correct the error, since college-prep English is not offered in summer school. So now we have a situation where, because Paul’s eighth-grade English teacher doesn’t think our son should be pushed, she has decided Paul isn’t qualified to go directly from high school to San Diego State. Hey lady, he’s only 13!

Is all lost already?

We will write a letter to Paul’s high school counselors to overturn her recommendation. We want to make sure Paul doesn’t have any higher education opportunities shut down, at least not before he’s even graduated from eighth grade.

There’s the possibility, of course, that Paul won’t want to go to UC or San Diego State. He might want to go to Palomar Community College, flesh out his academic areas of interest, then make his move to either a trade school or university of his choice, once he has better defined his future hopes and dreams.

Oh, gee. If we make that decision now, he can skip the foreign languages altogether, take just two years of science, and take a whole bunch of electives--computers and drafting and photography and speech and oceanography and agricultural science and landscaping and journalism. He’d be the most well-rounded kid of all in four years--but not qualified for a four-year university.

Paul is dealing with all this reasonably well. We think he will follow whatever course we set him on, and we’ve got a week to talk it out, second-guess ourselves and make our decision. We’re looking at the options, the costs, the pressures, the academic interests, his future potential. Our 13-year-old, meanwhile, is wondering how to improve the fort in the back yard and where he can snag another piece of plywood.