We talked to him about his lateness; The school sent home notes about his lateness; He lost the privilege of leaving school for lunch; And we took his electronic games, except for his computer. None of that made a difference.

Then last week, a school staffer suggested a solution that went to the heart of being a high school freshman – not wanting to be seen with your parents. The plan was diabolically simple: If he couldn’t be responsible and get to school on time, treat him like a second grader and bring him to school.

To make sure this scheme worked I upped the ante, saying I would accompany him all the way to his classroom, the better to be seen with him. The fact that we live only two blocks from the school made the plan easy to carry out.

The first morning, last Friday, I woke my son and reminded him that we’d walk to class together if he was late. I said I was looking forward to our walk: It would be like the old days when he was younger. He was not similarly nostalgic.

That day he was on time for class. So, too with the next two days. Tomorrow could be the fourth day in a row. I don’t know about you, but I sometimes find parenting a to be a little like guerrilla warfare. You’re in it for the long haul, so you need strategy and much patience. Change usually doesn’t come quickly. This battle was different, however, and now it feels like cause for celebration. But I have two things to do. First, praise him for his promptness; Second, hope he doesn’t lose his embarassment over being seen with me.

If you haven’t been able to keep track of all the financial news coming out of Washington, D.C., these are the broad strokes:

The argument in favor of the tax credits? As so many are noting in these days of economic high anxiety, college education benefits not only the individual, but our nation as a whole. The U.S. faces increasing worldwide competition and that competition is increasingly over knowledge and ideas – the stuff of education, which would be encouraged by easing the cost of college. Of course this argument conveniently matches my own economic self-interest. 

On the other side? I haven’t read specific arguments against the education tax credits yet, but I imagine the same arguments against the overall Obama budget might might apply – they will be expensive and help run up deficits in the trillions over the next 10 years.

Of course those deficits come on top of all the other red ink this country has been running up and committing to in recent years- such as the long-term cost of the war in Iraq and the various bank and auto industry bailouts. Together those figures have been reported to add up into the trillions.

So maybe the issue comes down to this: What should we be spending our money on? What do you think? Please let us know.

My son hated this most of the time. Since much of the practice involved writing with a marker on one of those wipeable boards, my son frequently wielded a marker, a dangerous thing in the hands of an easily frustrated kid. Helpful hint: Though these markers are described as erasable, they are difficult wipe from skin or clothing after your child uses one as a weapon against you.

However, I never did talk here in Parents Place about our second son and his experience with dyslexia. So hear goes. A couple of years after the first son finished with his dyslexia tutor, our youngest son was diagnosed with dyslexia. For a family that makes its living reading and writing – and that’s most of us these days – the double dyslexia was a downer.

We were now experienced parents of dyslexic children, however, something that led us to pick up on the problem sooner, somewhere around the end of first grade-begining of second. We tried a different dyslexia tuto one who said she who already taught in our neighborhood and would be available to come to our house after school, freeing up more than two hour spent every Saturday visiting the earlier tutor. The rest of the drill remained the same, though: We practiced the skills five days a week and read together every night.

The results were disappointing, however; My second son was making little progress and we were quite troubled. I’ll pick up this story in another post soon.

For a kid who hadn’t turned 14 yet, that was a pretty big deal. He explained his reasoning:  The world would be better place without rich or poor. As for God, he just didn’t think he/she existed. I could identify with that last point. Somewhere around 11 or 12, I was stricken with doubt about the existence of the Big Guy.

The communist part brought up a rush of feelings: My son is for fairness and equality (Good thing!); He believes in a failed economic system that’s produced some nasty leaders (Bad thing!); What kind of terrible parents are we? (OK, that’s my issue: worrying what others might think); and finally, he’s lucky this it’s not 50-60 years ago, or he’d get blacklisted.

Since my son had read a book on Marxism and a warts-and-all biography on Mao Tse-Tung, I suggested he might want to read about the father of capitalism, Adam Smith. Then he would know what Marx was criticizing. No, my son said, he was worried someone would think him a capitalist if he was seen with the book.

Since kids tend to be contrary, I didn’t make a big deal over any of this, though I explained that there might be some good things about the market system. And then the stock market crashed and my 401K plan deflated. I guess this is one of those teachable moments, for both of us.

It was a lot different from my college, the Brooklyn Center of Long Island University. That was a collection of buildings around a concerete yard, euphemistically described as “an urban campus.” This was in the early 1970s. when Brooklyn hadn’t recovered from the Dodgers leaving town and there was a dangerous scent of decay all around.

In contrast, Stony Brook is a big-league college campus that stretches out in all directions. This SUNY school won’t be confused with Georgetown, or Fordham or even NYU, however. There’s lots of utilitarian ‘50s, ‘60s and ‘70s architecture, though Stony Brook seems to be compensating with lots of greenery and newer buildings that have a friendly and generous feeling.

My son went to his orientation session and I went mine. It was thorough and ran 6 1/2 hours. They told us about about academics, meal plans, campus jobs, and dorms that sometimes squeeze three incoming students into a room meant for two. They talked about campus security, and if my son didn’t get the message that the dorm room needs to be locked when he goes out, I did.

Then they told us that the bill  for tuition, room and board would be arriving soon. Oh, and it needs to be paid by Sept. 15.  But since it’s one-third the cost of a lot of private schools, I’m a big SUNY fan.   I told my neighbor, and now she’s teachng her 4-year-old to say SUNY – over and over.

At lunch a few of the parents wandered around the campus. We liked what we saw and we wanted to go back to school. As for our kids? Let them wait their turn. They probably wouldn’t appreciate it as much as we would.

I wanted a different Fourth of July this year, both for me and my immediate family. Instead of visiting my brother’s house for a cookout, why not connect directly to the meaning of Independence Day? It would be educational and inspirational! With my 18-year-old son away for the week and my wife in agreement, I only needed to get my 13-year-old on board. I’ll get to the bottom line: he insisted he wasn’t going. And he wasn’t moved when I said he would always remember the walking tour of “Revolutionary New York,” but wouldn’t remember just hanging out at home (nice try, right?)

Faced with an immovable child, what should we do? We declared our own independence and went on the tour without him. Run by Big Onion Tours, the walk was fun and I learned things about Revolutionary New York that I didn’t know.

(Here’s one piece of Revolutionary lure, followed by book tip for more on Revolutionary New York: Inside City Hall Park, visible from Broadway, stands a tall flagpole that’s wrapped in a series of metal bands. What is it? A Liberty Pole, like the one that the anti-British Sons of Liberty installed on the site as a sign of defiance. After British troops repeatedly chopped the pole down, the Sons of Liberty wrapped a new one in iron for protection. For a deeper look at the Revolution in New York, check out The Battle for New York by Barnet Schecter. You may be amazed at New York’s role during the Revolution.

My son survived July Fourth. He watched a movie on DVD for the several hours we were gone. He wasn’t angry when we returned and later we told him about the tour. After dinner we went up on the roof and watched fireworks. What do you think, were we bad parents?

With this in mind, I’m passing along some suggestions from the son of a colleague here at The Journal News/LoHud.com, Emily Kratzer. Her son, Russell Voss, who is finishing his junior year at a Hudson Valley college has a fresh take. It also provides a dose of reality for parents.

When you’re around the campuses, no matter what you are trying to find out about the school, keep in mind one simple and over-reaching idea: You will live here for four years. A few things to consider…

What are the dorms like?  Think of it this way: All the time you spend in your house when you’re not in school or at work, you’re going to spend that time in your dorm – with at least one roommate whom you’ve never met.

Dorms are small, smelly places, but some campuses do better than others. Be wary; Some schools squeeze a third student into rooms designed for two. My college says almost all freshman dorms are doubles, but with growing adminissions, most are home to a third student. Also note the location of vending machines, the ratio of bathrooms to people and the like. It doesn’t hurt to check out the bathrooms; you will need them. Look at how they’re laid out. Is there soap? Are there paper towels or blow-driers? Are there individual shower stalls, or is it communal like at the gym? Does it look like it gets cleaned ofen?

What are the school’s security policies? Is there a security guard at the main door of every dorm at certain hours? Do you have to sign in to visit friends in other dorms? My school has a reputation as fairly draconian for requiring students to sign in when they visit other dorms and also leaving by a certain hour. You may not think about it now, but you will spend a lot of late nights talking to people, and you won’t want to be thrown out. This also becomes important if you have friends who like to sneak in cheap domestic beer… not that I endorse that sort of thing… especially if it’s cheap domestic beer.

How close is the nearest chain drug store? The bookstore looks nice, but it’s highway robbery. A nearby drugstore usually will beat the school store on the price of many necessities and it probably has a better selection of ramen and soda. Speaking of soda, a lot of schools sign exclusive contracts with soda companies. My school is a Pepsi campus. Nowhere can you buy Coca-Cola. If soda brand is very important to you, keep an eye out.

How edible is the stuff they’re trying to pass off as food in the cafeteria? Until you move into a dorm with a kitchen, you’ll be forced to eat mass-produced mystery meat for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Some schools are good, others are not. Never ask your tour guide about it, they always say the food is good. The best way to find out is to venture out after the tour and try it.

Where’s the nearest good restaurant? Whether the cafe is good, bad or ugly, you will get tired of it and an affordable restaurant within walking distance is something you’ll pretty much kill for. Bigger colleges tend attract businesses like sandwich shops, casual restaurants, office supply stores, etc. Is there a mall nearby? A movie theatre? You will live at you school for four years; You will want to go off-campus to maintain your sanity.

Finally, a few questions to put your tour guide on the spot:

What nights of the week do people tend to go out to party?
What is the STD rate on campus?
Does the college provide students with condoms?

I’m sure you can think of more good questions.

The people who run the Yankees and the Mets are smart people, so how they came up with these schemes is beyond me. Baseball draws more people every year, while New York City and its suburbs are growing. So what do our baseball teams (with the approval of New York City and state officials) do? They shrink the size of the ball parks.

The new Yankee Stadium will hold about 52,000, down from the current 57,500. The Mets’ new Citi Field will hold 44,000 people compared with Shea Stadium’s 55,700. This is a bad for baseball fans and terrible for parents, kids and grandparents, too.

A baseball stadium is a place where lasting family memories are made. I won’t forget the first time my father took me to the stadium in the Bronx one sweltering August night when I was seven. The Yankees beat the Kansas City Athletics 4-0 in a game that didn’t last two hours. And then there was the first game I took my oldest son to: He chanted “Let’s Go Mets” so loud I feared he had been permanently imprinted a fan of the city’s National League team rather than the Yankees.

Not only will these ball parks have fewer seats, but the ticket prices will be shocking. If you are planning a game or two next year, start saving up by skipping lunch now. A low-cost ticket will go for about  the price of Broadway show ticket.  A top-priced field-level seat at Yankee Stadium will cost $2,500,  about the price of a used car. Ouch.

Don’t get me wrong. The new ball parks look beautiful, especially Citi Field. They will be better places to watch games – much better than the upper deck seats at Shea. Pilots landing at LaGuardia are closer to home plate than my seat near the foul pole a few years ago.

Yankees Chief Operating Officer Lonn Trost recently told our sport writer Sam Borden that the new stadium could have had more seats, but they would have been further from the field. “We didn’t want to do that. We wanted to make sure that each fan had a great view and could truly enjoy the new park as much as possible.”

No disrespect meant, Mr. Trost, but Yankees fans – and Mets fans, too – won’t be able to enjoy their new stadiums if there are too few seats and if the tickets are priced far beyond their means.

Do you think you’ll take your kids to see the Yankees or the Mets as often in their new stadiums? Do you remember first game with a parent, or with your own child? If so, tell us about your memories.

It’s a big school; lecture halls are routine for most classes he’s going to take his first year. Also since its an NCAA Division One school, chances are just about zero that he will play for the school basketball team, something that occuppied a lot of his time in his last two years of high school. That’s not to say the school doesn’t have a lot going for it. There’s just a lot to sort through.

Asked what my son thought about the school, he answered: “Good.” What did he like in particular: “Nothing.” What didn’t you like: “Nothing.” And how it compared with other schools we’ve visited: “About the same.”

My son can make Humphrey Bogart seem absolutely chatty.

After the tour, as my son and I walked to get the car, I suggested that it’s OK to feel anxious about going to college. He immediately insisted he wasn’t. Is that exhibit number one that he is worried?

So how do I get him to talk a little more? I’m kind of at a loss.; talking about feelings is not something he is particulary good at.  I’ve told him some about my experiences at college. I guess I’ll tell him a more, especially the funny things. That can’t hurt.

Meanwhile last night, I made an offer: ”I know you’re not worried about college, but anytime you want to talk about college with me you can.”

He gave a half smile-half laugh, a gesture that could have meant nearly anything. It could have meant “I’m not talking; it’s no big deal.” Or perhaps, ”Thanks, dad.”  

One workday a few months ago, I woke up to find my son ironing a dress shirt. Then he asked for help in knotting in his tie. This event  has repeated itself  on a weekly basis since then. Pretty shocking for a boy whose wardrobe from age seven consisted mainly of baggy jeans and t-shirts.

So what’s going on? The dress-up order came from my son’s high school basketball coach. Whenever the team visits another school for a basketball game, the players need to wear dress pants, shirt and tie.  An interesting idea, similar to what happened in the NBA some years back.

I’m certainly not complaining, even when it meant shopping with him shortly after Chrsitmas and buying him a some ties, dress shirts and dress pants. There are some surprises about parenthood that no one tells you about.

Have you noticed a similar transformation in your high school student? 

Stuffed with a colorful brochure touting the advantages of this state school, the envelope contained an acceptance letter. So now I know – it’s those skinny little envelopes that bring the bad news. One down, eight more to go. 

As a parent it’s reassuring to know that a college actually wants your child. It’s a relief because, like most parents, I have had occasion to mutter under my breath that I no longer want him. Please, tell me I’m not the only one.

The interesting thing is, that’s happened less frequently in recent months. He seems to have finally figured out that his parents, while they love him, are not his unpaid servants. He actually helps out around the house without much of a fuss now: He goes to the supermarket once a week and vacuums nearly as often, among other chores. This son is growing up. One down, one more to go.

Please write and tell us how your family is handling the wait for college-acceptance letters.

“An example of your stubborness? How about waiting until the last minute to finish you college applications, even though we told you to do it months ago,” I said.

“I can’t use that in this essay,” he said.

That leads me to the following question: Is procrastination genetic? I once had a tendency for lateness that led a friend to come up with the concept of Maniace time - a time zone that’s somewhere to the left of the Eastern zone. I think the final straw was when I arrived a half hour late to drive him to his wedding. 

But procrastination had nothing to do with that. It was love. Before arriving at his house I gave my then-girlfriend some tips on driving my car, which she would need to get to the reception hall  since I would be in a wedding-party limo. It was love. I treasured that gleeming, cream-colored 1972 Super Beetle.

Eventually my wife cured me of my procrastination (This may come as a surprise to my editors; not the part about my wife, but that I’ve been cured). While I could be anywhere from 10 minutes to an hour late, my wife topped me by orders of magnitude. When it came to leaving on vacation trips, this meant we’ve been anywhere from three to six hours late. My reaction to her lateness was to reform; I’m now semi-punctual. That has allowed me to name a time zone after her.

Hence my original question: Is procrastination genetic? If so, my kids are going to be world champs.  

After the small crowd had gone home and only the two teams and the score keepers remained, I looked across the court to see my son’s face buried in his hands. Then he pulled his jersey over his face as several of his team mates attempted to console him.

It had been a tough loss. His team had fought back after trailing by at least 13 points only to lose by by two. It hadn’t been his best game. He still hadn’t recovered from a torn rotator cuff suffered at the start of the season. He had scored and rebounded some, but it was his hustle yesterday that I really admired  - playing defense, wrestling for the ball while sprawled on the court, and  late in the game getting an opponents’ foul shot nullified when a player on the other team had stepped over the line too soon during a foul shot.

But with one second on the clock and his team down by two points, my son, who is 17,  was on the foul line to shoot two. If he hit both,  his team just might win its first game of the season.

The first shot bounced off the rim. So did the second.

I could guess how he felt. His teamates had named him team captain after he had led them last year in scoring, rebounding and foul shooting. But this day the shots did not go. He had let his team down and he had let himself down.

I walked across the court to him and rubbed his back and head. I told him it was OK, and that he had played a good tough game, but I don’t think he was buying it. Only after the coach had called him a second time for the post-game meeting did the jersey come down from his face.

Later I tried to figure out what I would say to him. I felt badly for him. The loss and his missed shots hurt. What could I say? But I had another feeling that I couldn’t quite place. Finally I knew what it was and what I would say – I was proud of him.

We talked after dinner last night, just the two of us, and it was the closest I had been to this stubbornly independent boy in a while. Maybe we did manage a win of sorts yesterday.