By Daniella Choynowski, Staff Writer On my orientation day, we were seated in the McKenna Center as Father Steven Honeygosky approached the podium for opening remarks. He called this generation of parents the ‘helicopter generation.’ Mom scoffed, while my father and I looked at each other and laughed. I don’t really know why, because nothing was funny. The hovering in my family began way before college. Parents say they love their children equally, but I’m not really sure of the truth in that statement. My sister and I were treated differently. Controlling me was my mother’s obsession. I had to ask her permission for everything. The money I earned was not my own; I had to ask permission to buy even a bag of chips. I turned off my cell phone during class, a school rule. Mom didn’t care; she called the classroom to yell at me for turning off my phone. Several of these calls began with, “you’re in big trouble....” followed by some nonsense reason like I left laundry in the machine or my bed was unmade. The screaming began and I would return to class with tears streaming down my face. My father was made out to be a villain. Mom, with her warped sense of perception, thought herself a saint. Since mom was perfect, she was entitled to puppeteer my life. Whenever I said something that she disagreed with, the response was, “go live with your father!” Now it has changed to, “find someone else to pay tuition!” My mother didn’t want me to come here; I don’t know what changed her mind. What caught my attention at Seton Hill was the theater program. Mom had been a theater major and failed professionally. The school was too far away for her (SHU is the same distance from home as Newark, where she works). When dropping me off, my mother was hysterically begging me to go somewhere closer. I refused. I knew my life would be Cinderella-esque if I conceded. I received a phone call nearly every hour. Mom constantly had to know what class I was going to next, what I had eaten that day, etc. The fact that I had homework infuriated her because I didn’t have time to tell her a blow-by-blow description of my day. There were even threats of calling the police on me if I didn’t talk to her. Mom hadn’t had a lot of homework in school. She thinks I do it all last minute, that I can’t handle pressure. I met Melissa Lingsch, who has a hovering mother to rival mine. “My mother...called me a lot. She left me a lot of really mean messages,” Lingsch said. She also received calls from her mom threatening to call the police on her. “We’ve definitely gotten more distant since I came to college” said Lingsch. I was miserable. I hated my major. I knew I would never survive. Changing from biology (she wanted me to be a doctor) to journalism (and subsequently adding theater) was the hardest thing I have ever done. I stood up to my mother and said, “No! This is my life and I shouldn’t have to pay for your mistakes!” Clad in PJ’s, I stepped outside. Eventually, with the promise I would attend law school, mom gave in. All she cared about was job security, not the fact that I would be happier. I turned to go back inside, only to discover I was locked out blind (no contacts) and barefoot (no slippers). Luckily, my Basic Composition teacher had a sense of humor when I arrived 40 minutes late. I was also late for add/drop and was stuck in bio classes the rest of the semester. The phone calls have slowed to two or three a day, but our relationship has gotten worse. Lingsch said her relationship with her mother “is very interesting...it’s rocky, edgy at times. We fight a lot.” Now that I am older, I realize how deep my mother’s obsession has cut. The preceding was barely a taste of reality. I now understand the causes for her actions. In case you are wondering what those are, I suggest you read Alan Alda’s Never Have Your Dog Stuffed. I will always be her daughter, but I can never be her friend. My advice to incoming students is this: there is nothing you can do. Your parents will hover, no doubt. Once out of school, you are in complete control. There is no tuition payer lording over you, no one telling you what they think is best for you; only you know what that is. Maybe that is taking your parents in small doses. Deal with it until then. Things change with an empty nest... Rose Kovach was my roommate freshman year. Her relationship with her mother underwent a complete transformation during her first year at college. Before, Kovach and her mom barely communicated. “My relationship with my mother wasn’t good or bad. It was just non-existent,”she said. Kovach said that while they coexisted, nothing was ever really talked about. Kovach said, “I just didn’t have a clue of who she was.” Kovach credits being away with improving their relationship. “I started calling home and actually talking to my mom about my life...I started to get to know who she was as a person rather than just my mom. We’ve become better friends,” said Kovach. Candice Shaughnessy, a friend of mine and Rose’s, always had a good relationship with her mother. “We always talked about everything. She was very involved in my life,” said Shaughnessy. Shaugnessy said that her and her mother never had any fights; they were more debate-like. Their relationship, she said, didn’t undergo any major changes when she left for school. “We are still fairly great friends... I still tell her a lot, but not as much as I used to because I know her tendencies,” Shaugnessy said. View this writer's profile.