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It was Term Paper Central at Casa Bayrock this weekend as the Fabteens finish up their first semester at the U. Not for me, though. My English class ended on Friday. And what an ending.

The instructor had known from day one that I was a published writer (she waived the pre-reqs based on my publishing record, so no getting around that), but after three months of classes, none of the other students knew of my author identity. To them I was simply the mature student in the back. I wanted to be treated like any other student, and keeping mum about my writing allowed that to happen.

Just as everyone was getting ready to go home on Friday, though, I pulled some promotional postcards from my purse and gave one to each of the classmates near me---the ones I chatted with before class and during breaks. "Hey, if you're not doing anything in March, come to my book launch."

The initial reactions of surprise and disbelief---"What!?" "You're kidding." "You're an author?" "Really?" "No way."---morphed into variations of "That's so cool." and then into "You kept this from us?" "You should have told us." "I feel duped." Uh-oh.

"But, but…" I tried to explain. And then the "duped" classmate said, "If we'd known you were an author, we would've reacted differently to your comments. We would've taken what you said with more authority, not questioned you."

Bingo. That's exactly why I didn't say anything. "So, which would make for better class discussions, I asked, "with the questioning or without?"

"With."

"So hiding my identity was the right thing to do?"

"Yes." A grin erupted on her face. "But I'm still mad at you."

Mission accomplished.
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The resident Fabteens begin university this week. And since I've got no theatre commitments this fall, and I get a fee waiver as one of Hubby's employment perks---which I have, with some guilt, not taken advantage of before now---I've decided to dust off the old student card and pick up an English class. It's a semi-upper-level thing for which I had neither of the pre-reqs, but yo, English 100 from the '80s and a portfolio of children's writing was enough to secure a seat when I asked for "permission of instructor".

See? Clip files are useful things.

Now, the Fabteens and I get along fabulously. Really, a parent of teens couldn't ask for better. We talk and laugh a lot, and do lots of stuff together, BUT...there is just something a little weird about heading off to university with your kids when they're still so, I don't know, fresh out of high school or something. I don't know what it is. After all, Fabteen#2 and I took a theatre directing class together a few weeks ago and that was just fine. In fact, we both really enjoyed that time together. No weirdness.

I talked to the Fabteens about me going to the U this fall, to see how they felt. They were all "Yea, mom!" about it, but they also had that same vaguely-not-right feeling. "We love you, mom. We like having you around, mom. But there's just something kinda weird about hanging out with your parents at school." So, to keep us all comfortable, I arranged things thusly.

---We don't share any classes together.

---My class is sufficiently upper level that I'm not likely to be in class with any of their friends (which could be as "awkward turtle" (as Fabteen#2 likes to say) as being in a class with the Fabteens themselves)

---My class is on a day on which neither Fabteen has a scheduled class.

There. No weirdness. University, here we come!

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