A lot can happen over the course of two weeks. For starters, I’ve finally entered the 21st Century, technologically, by purchasing a new phone. And not just any old phone. A real-life Smart phone. The kind that has a data plan.
That wasn’t my intention. I was going to adopt my husband’s hand-me-down cell phone. Anything would have been a step up from my own 2009 LG disaster.
As you can see, the phone I’d carried around with me for nearly eight years wouldn’t even close properly anymore. Sometimes, the whole thing would collapse in my hands while I attempted to text someone. I tried really hard to steer clear of a Smart phone. Really hard, obviously. (look at that pic of my old phone). But, that was that, and when it was discovered that my husband’s hand-me-down had a bad battery, I stepped into 2016.
It’s a nice phone. But I’m trying really hard not to get sucked into it’s capabilities. Like Facebook. Email. And all the other apps that I don’t recognize and have no intention of using. That was my whole reason for holding onto the old phone for so long. I didn’t want to become another face in a phone.
I am now a college student. My writing class started up last week. I’m the oldest person in the class, if you don’t count the instructor, who’s maybe five years older. The girl sitting across from me, she’s only seventeen. But, it feels good. I don’t think I was mature enough for college when I was at a more acceptable age, although I’m starting to realize there’s no such thing as an acceptable age. College is for every age. I’ve seen plenty of people my age, even older, rushing to class the mornings I attend.
I had to read something about myself, aloud, to the class. It was nerve-wracking. You’d think my age would somehow omit me from embarrassment, yet it doesn’t. After I did it, it felt as though I’d ripped some band aid from my soul. The one that fears criticism. A nice ice breaker.
My son is on an all-girl volleyball team. I don’t think he’s the first boy to do something like this, but it’s a first for us. I had received an email from the school district’s sports league, with a listing of available sports for the fall season. Anytime I see information like that, I read on down the line, see if anything interests him. When I mentioned volleyball, he was very interested.
So, I signed him up. I had no idea it was an all-girl thing. I didn’t find that out until a couple of days later, when I received an email directly from the school with information on GIRLS volleyball. I put two and two together.
I waited a few days, to see if anyone would contact me. Tell me he couldn’t play. No one did. I decided to contact the teacher in charge. I wanted to see if any other boys had signed up, or if he would even be allowed to play. The teacher got back with me, and I was pleasantly surprised. She was very supportive of my son playing volleyball. She didn’t see any trouble with it, and while she’d made sure to check in with the person in charge of the sports league and was waiting to hear back, she welcomed him to his first practice.
My son told me he did get a few eyebrow raises from some of the girls participating, the ones who didn’t know he’d signed up. They were surprised, but no one gave him any grief. He detailed how he’d handed out the perfect serve, how exciting it was. I could tell just how much he enjoyed practice, how much he’s enjoying volleyball.
I’m really proud of him. He’s stepping outside of his comfort zone, because he wants to participate in a sport he enjoys. I don’t know why there aren’t more boys on volleyball teams, or why there aren’t more coed teams, particularly at the elementary school level. Boys (men) play volleyball. Like these guys:
Maybe this will start a discussion. Maybe boys will be allowed to play, have their own teams, go co-ed. I can’t say for sure, and I don’t know if his interest in volleyball will carry on past the 6th grade. All I know is, he’s having fun, he’s enjoying himself, and I’ll be there, supporting him at every game.