I fed them a speech explaining how great this would be for all of us and quickly moved on, thinking I had done the right thing as a protective mother. The next day, the school called: Eight-year-old Carlie was upset, and the teacher asked if I could come in.
Carlie tells me you're leaving your job, and she's very upset.
That's a good thing, right? It's a good thing because we'll get time together. No more rushing. No more missing your events. No more job!
But Mommy, you love it so much! I don't want you to have to leave your job.
That moment was the first time I truly cried about what had happened to me, to us. I realized it would be OK to mourn together, to be angry together, to be discouraged together, and to be honest with each other.
A fundamental lesson on being fired: Never lie about it ... job loss is an opportunity to show them what you are made of.
If kids could not borrow money to go to school, they could not pay these prices. Nobody would be going
We used to deny it was even a good question. We don't do that anymore.
Would the colleges really just shut down and say we have no business?
Even if they did go bankrupt, somebody else would come in and buy that university and operate it at a much lower cost