What Form?

Dylan forgot to go on his field trip.

“How could you not GO?” I texted the next day.

“I’m sorry. I really didn’t know I was supposed to go.”

The field trip was a trip to a local college fair. All juniors were invited to go, as I learned from the email of daily announcements.

“Get a form!” I squealed. “You’ve got to go!”

I get excited when Dylan has an opportunity for a field trip, because he doesn’t have to sit still. I am even more excited about anything that has to do with colleges. So for me, this was a double-whammy-wonderful trip.

But three days later, Dylan still had not picked up the permission slip. Since I was volunteering at the school, I picked up the form myself.

“I got your form,” I told him. “You have to register online, print out the bar code, and take it back to the school.”

“Wait, what?” he said. “I don’t understand.”

“Why don’t you go on the website and find out what to do?”

“What website?”

“The one listed on the form.”

“What form?”

“The field trip form,” I said, visibly frustrated. “The one I got for you because you kept forgetting to get it?”

“Oh, right.” He looked briefly at the paper. “This is just a regular form. You need to sign it.”

“Yes,” I said. “But you also need to register online.”

“Okay.”

Three days later, he still hadn’t registered online.

Meanwhile, I had researched the college fair. I found out what colleges were going to be represented, and even contacted Dylan’s favorite college to see if I could get a representative to appear. (No.)

I made a list of those colleges for Dylan to use at the fair. Then I color-coded the list with red, green and orange to show which colleges he should definitely see, which ones he should avoid, and which ones he might want to reconsider from his previous college searches.

When I was done with that, I went back through the list and crossed out the colleges he’s already seen and didn’t like, so that he wouldn’t waste his time with them, either.

“Dylan, did you ever register for this conference?” I asked one day, while perusing the website.

“Oh, no,” he said. “Why did I need to do that again?”

“So you can go on the field trip,” I said. “It’s really easy and I’m on the website right now. You just have to type in your name and print out a bar code. LOOK.” And I typed in his name and printed out the bar code.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Put that with your field trip form and money,” I said.

“Where is it?” he asked.

“Sitting over … Oh forget it. I’m going to be at the school in the morning. Do you want me just to take it in?”

“Sure,” he said. “That would be great.”

“Fine,” I spat. “I did everything else for this field trip. I might as well turn in your form, too.”

“Thanks, Mom,” he said.

The next day, I took in the completed permission forms, payment for the transportation, and the bar code, and gave it all to the career counselor at Dylan’s school.

Two weeks went by. I told Dylan to mark the date on the calendar. Apparently, he forgot.

An announcement was broadcast during school: “All students going to the Junior Class College Fair please meet in the front hallway.”

Dylan barely looked up. He had absolutely no idea that he was scheduled to go on that field trip.

I wonder why.

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