Now We Are Talking About College

When my loved one was applying to colleges, I encouraged him to apply to a school close to home.

“Encouraged” may be giving me a little too much credit.

I had taken on most of the application process, and this school required a virtual interview. I helped him prepare. We talked through the questions he might be asked and what he could say.

Afterward, he told me how it went.

“Why do you want to go to school here?”

“I don’t want to go to school here.”

“Then why did you apply?”

“Because my mother made me.”

I laughed. The story has become part of our family history, complete with my daughter’s video interpretation of what the interview must have looked like.

But I think about it differently now.

I had prepared him to explain a choice he had not made.

My loved one was in sober living at the time. We looked at schools with collegiate recovery programs, schools in the Scranton area near his recovery community, and schools closer to our home on Long Island. Recovery was already part of the conversation. The options were thoughtful.

But when he left the work to me, I picked it up.

I researched schools, tracked requirements, and moved the applications forward. After so much uncertainty, I wanted him to have a future to move toward. Here was something I knew how to do.

It felt like helping.

Looking back, I can see how much of the process belonged in his hands. Asking questions, comparing possibilities, managing deadlines, and following through were things he needed practice doing. I wanted him to become more independent, and I was doing the very work that could have helped him learn how.

He chose to stay in his recovery community. That decision was his. Even then, he deferred to me about which school to attend nearby.

I did the best I could with what I understood at the time. I wish someone had helped us work through it together, including helping me recognize when to step back.

Right now, we have five seniors at Woodhaven. This week, we met individually with each student, and last night we brought the students and their families together to talk through what comes after high school.

Every student had at least one parent there. In my years as an educator, I have seen how difficult it can be for families to attend school events, so I do not take that kind of participation for granted. These families have lived through so much fear and uncertainty, and here they were, helping their sons think about the future.

Recovery does not follow a school calendar. Students come to this process at different points in the year, including after some application deadlines have passed. The available options may change, but the planning continues.

Among our five seniors, some have clear goals. Some are placing considerable hope in an early decision application. Others admit they sat through earlier meetings with their counselors without really being present.

We begin wherever they are.

What has surprised me in these conversations is how open the students have been to considering another path. I introduce an option they may not have thought about, and often the response is simply, “Okay.”

There is trust in that response. They are willing to consider what we think might help. I appreciate that, and I want to be careful with it. I want the students to explore our suggestions, ask questions, and decide what makes sense to them.

We can keep the school they have dreamed about on the list and add possibilities alongside it. A college closer to home. A school with recovery support. An option that allows them to stay in their recovery community while continuing their education.

There is no default list. We consider each student’s interests, personality, and need for support. For some, that includes vocational programs. “I don’t know yet” gives us somewhere to begin, too.

Their willingness to explore matters. So does having them ask questions, research options, and keep track of deadlines. An adult can research faster and get an application finished. A student may be glad to let us. Before long, we can have a plan that everyone has worked on except the person who will be living it.

Families have a part in this, too. When so much about addiction has felt beyond their control, researching a college or tracking a deadline can feel like something they still know how to do for their son. Other families are relieved to have help carrying this part. Either way, families need help finding their role while leaving room for him to find his.

For years, college conversations may have centered on reach schools, target schools, majors, and acceptance letters. Now we are asking the students to consider how college could support their recovery as they learn, become more independent, and discover what they want for their lives.

We ask them to think beyond the classroom. Who will you spend time with? Who would you turn to on a difficult day? What would evenings and weekends look like? How would you stay connected to your recovery when you are busy, disappointed, or enjoying your new independence?

These questions help us look beyond the presence of a recovery program to understand what it offers and how a student would use it. They may change how he looks at a school or what he needs from the next step.

Sometimes that means considering a different beginning than the one a student and his family have pictured for years. There needs to be room for disappointment without treating an intermediate step as the end of a dream.

Beginning locally may help him prepare for a move later. A vocational program may lead to work he finds meaningful. Keeping several options open gives him time to learn more before deciding.

He may need reminders, a task broken into smaller steps, or someone beside him while he begins. He also needs us to pause long enough for him to think and respond, even when we have an answer ready.

We are only at the beginning. These students will not enter college until next fall. Looking back at how much has changed for them and their families over the past year reminds me how much can happen between now and then.

We can meet the deadlines without expecting every decision to be settled in October. We can help them move forward while allowing time for growth, a better understanding of what they need, and even a change of mind.

And before we get too caught up in the next application, I want us to notice where we are.

After the chaos of active addiction, the worry, and the work of getting a loved one into treatment, we are talking about college and moving toward greater independence. For many families, there were times when they feared this conversation might never happen.

Now we are having it.

Dr. Jill DeRosa

Dr. Jill DeRosa is Co-Founder and Director of Education and Family Programs at Woodhaven Recovery. With more than three decades of experience as a teacher, principal, and Assistant Superintendent, she brings a rare combination of educational leadership, lifelong personal understanding of addiction and recovery, and deep commitment to her work with young people and families.

Her perspective is shaped by both professional expertise and lived experience. She co-founded Woodhaven Recovery to create a supportive environment where teen boys and their families can find healing, connection, and the foundation for lasting recovery.

At Woodhaven, Jill helps shape academic and family programming, contributes to the broader vision and daily life of the program, and works directly with residents across many aspects of their growth, including recovery, education, college and career planning, and transitions. She also works closely with parents, offering guidance and insight as they navigate their own role in the recovery process.

As a mother who has lived alongside addiction and recovery throughout her life, Jill writes from a place of genuine understanding. Her work reflects a deep belief in the capacity of young people and families to heal, grow, and build meaningful lives in recovery.

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After Everyone Goes Home