If my life were a sitcom, this would be another charming episode centered around the  harried and ditzy mother who takes a simple coming-of-age experience and turns it into a three ring circus.frazzled-lady1

This episode is titled: The One About the  ACT Test

Months ago I registered Grace and Ethan to take the ACT.  We circled the date on our collective calendars.  Gracie requested the Saturday off of work at Rick’s Bakery.  There was no way I was going to get busy and forget this test or otherwise mess things up.

Wednesday evening, 3 whole DAYS before the test date, I prompted Gracie to login to the testing site and print her “test admission ticket”, find out what time to arrive, which building on campus, what they were required to bring with them, etc.

Gracie noted that a photo I.D. was required for admission.  Well, Ethan doesn’t drive yet and does not have a photo I.D.  I briefly rationalized in my head: A) his photo is on the printed admission ticket and 2) he took the test when he was 12 years old and didn’t require a photo I.D. (he DID however, at that time, have a letter from the Duke TIP Talent Program.)

Fast forward to Friday evening.  I’m gathering the test admission tickets to have out on the kitchen counter so there will be no scrambling or forgetting them on test morning. (See, I’m planning ahead!)  I read the test admission ticket which says, in BOLD, that the student MUST HAVE one of the following for admission:

  • a PHOTO I.D.
  • a notarized letter with photo attached
  • a letter from a school official  with photo attached

So here we are, 8 p.m. on a Friday night, 12 hours until test time (a test that we paid a non-refundable $70 to take) and I’m suddenly on the hunt for a notary or a “School Official.”

Thank God for Facebook.

After frantic text messages to a former co-worker who happens to be a Notary, another to our friend Leslie who is a special ed teacher at the high school, and our friend Lisa who is the CFO of the entire school district, I noticed that Ethan’s fantastic AP Civics teacher Shay Hopper had just “checked-in” at Greenhouse Grille.

(Cue sound effect: Handel’s Hallelujah Chorus)

I sent Shay a quick Facebook message re: my dilemma and Shay graciously agreed to allow us to interrupt her Friday evening date with her husband to bail us out.  I’m sure she is thinking it is really no wonder that Ethan struggles in her class with the lack of organization, follow-through and simple attention to detail exhibited by his mother.

But alas, all’s well that ends well.  Grace and Ethan are both on the U of A Campus as we speak as I type, taking the ACT and, hopefully, earning scores that will lead to academic scholarships of some sort.

It really does take a village to raise a child.  And I, for one, am so grateful that our village is filled with committed educators who never give up – even on the “problem child”, and who sacrifice their evenings and weekends to go the extra mile for their students and who, hopefully, don’t sit in judgement over the working-moms-who-appear-to-have-it-all-together-but-are-barely-holding-on.