College Is Treating Me Well

I had my doubts about returning to college after such a long time away. Well, let's be honest -- I was a nervous wreck! I obsessed about it, worrying that I'd screw up and disappoint everyone. I'm too old for this, I lamented. There's too much walking, too much carrying of heavy book bags. And I'm too busy. I have to work, keep house, keep two kids and a hubby happy, deal with our critters, garden, yadda yadda.

But you know what? It isn't so bad.

I am finding that the extra effort I put in because I'm a grownup and know that success requires a certain amount of work is paying off. I'm also finding that sometimes too much extra effort is, well, too much. I worried so much about my comparative music exam, fearing that it couldn't possibly be as easy as it seemed - and when I finally gathered the courage to take the test (online, it was available all week) I found that I could probably have passed it if I hadn't even bothered to read the book.

I also found that other students who had taken the exam had not figured out the secret to success, which (shh...) is spending some time at the book's companion website and taking the practice quizzes over and over till you receive 100% -- then going directly to the exam, which uses the very same questions.

The secret to success in my history class is taking copious notes and writing out explanations to the terms on the study guide, printing out a blank map and identifying the places on the study guide, and reading the book as directed. I guess I figured it out, because I got a 97 on the first exam.

The secret to success in "Writing for the Web" has three parts: A.) Similar to the music class, take the quizzes over and over till you get 100%. Only then should you send your answer to the instructor for recording. B.) Follow directions. C.) Learn to Google.

Literature? Similar to Writing for the Web. Follow directions, read the material, and learn to Google. It also helps to be friendly with the professor. She's very approachable and helpful.

Which reminds me...many students seem to have, and expect to have, an adversarial relationship with their teachers. This is understandable, considering that our futures do depend on their evaluations, and some of them can be arrogant and difficult. But really, they're just people. Since I'm entering my fourth decade on planet Earth, I know some people who are teachers and consider them friends. They have the same worries and goals as everyone else -- wanting good marriages, happy family relationships, healthy kids, and satisfaction of personal goals. They worry about things like where to travel for that week on vacation, paying their mortgages, a sick cat, and a child diagnosed with a learning disability. Teaching is a job, like any other.

Most teachers appreciate it when their students recognize this fact and show genuine concern and consideration for the teacher's time and labor. While they are "just people" they are also people who have devoted many years, lots of money, and a huge effort toward earning their own degrees, certifications, and academic accomplishments. This deserves respect, so you don't treat your professor like you would treat Joe at the Wal-mart oil-change service bay.

The point that seems to elude many college students is this: You're there to get an education, not to earn a certain number of credits at a certain minimum GPA. Work like you care about the information, and the grades will follow.

With that bit of geekery aside, let me share some personal, emotional observations.

This quarter, I only have two classes on campus. The rest are online, done at home. My two on-campus classes are Math and History. In math class, I started out sitting toward the front, but got self-conscious and now sit in the back row. I sit next to a very nice young man of about 20 who is studying to become a paramedic. He and his friend on the other side laugh at the teacher sometimes, which appeals to my rebellious nature -- not completely suppressed, even at my age -- and my subconscious, immature suspicion of "math geeks." (I'm a Liberal Arts person...say no more.) I laugh too, a little. He's been talking about an upcoming fishing trip with his friends. It was last weekend, and so today I asked how it went. He spoke to me like a peer - like anyone else in the class, a potential friend, and that made me very happy. I'm old enough to be his mom but he didn't treat me that way. Either he really is a very nice young man, or maybe I don't look like I'm 40.

I like to think I don't look 40. I'll take 35. Hubby today told me I looked 30 at the most, but I think he may be a little biased. He would likely prefer to hear that he doesn't look 40 either. He doesn't, always. The thing about being this age -- when you feel good and are fresh, you look younger. When you feel like crap, are tired or ill, the number 40 is meaningless and might be replaced instead with the term "old fart." These days it takes makeup, a good hair day, and just the right clothes to make me look youthful at all. Fortunately, I'm practicing. A lot. I need to enjoy it while I can!

Of course, it's the results that count. I have 39 credit hours to earn after this quarter, and then I'm going to grad school, if they'll have me. Once you pass that threshold, being an old fart isn't so much of a liability. At least that's what I'm hoping for!

College is Not Glamorous

I went to college many years ago, and it was different. I'm not sure why I remember my experience back then being different than it is now, except for the obvious facts that I'm going to a different school and I am about 20 years older.

When I first started college at age 18, it was a small branch of the University of Cincinnati, ten minutes away from my parents' house. Going there was just like going to high school, except that nobody cared if I skipped class and, if I had time in between classes, I could go to the student lounge and get a beer. It took about two minutes to walk from my car to the classroom, five if I had to park in the back lot. Life was good.

After I got my two-year degree, I went to Main Campus. Parking was a nightmare, that was expected. So I took the bus. It was a 45-minute ride, and I had to transfer once along the way. But it was an adventure, and I made friends with the bus driver. I didn't have much going on before or after school, so as long as I had a bus schedule and 65 cents, I was fine. Life was still pretty good.

I didn't finish, though, because I got impatient waiting for life to begin. I got a full time job and let that come first. School could wait. And it waited for 20 years. In fact I really didn't expect to go back, not until my mom passed away and the inheritance I received made my dream possible again.

Enough about that. Here's the thing - when I applied for admission this time around, I got really excited about going back. It made me feel young again. I knew it would be a lot of work, but I also started thinking about how good it would make me feel. I would need some new clothes. I would need a haircut. I would need some new makeup. I envisioned myself strolling stylishly into the classroom, as young as a 40 year old can be, bright-eyed and quick witted, ready to - as one of my friends described it - "romp through the fields of brain candy."

It wasn't like that at all.

My first class on campus was a math class, 10:25 on Tuesday. I left home at the time I had planned, and expected to have about 20 minutes extra to sit in the hall or at my desk, reading. Nope. I had forgotten how hard it is to park on a college campus. The last two times I was there, I parked in the visitor lot without a glitch. This time, the lot was full. I had to drive to the other side of campus, to the other visitor lot, run through the underground tunnels (stopping to study maps and directional signs), run up three flights of stairs, and arrived huffing and puffing and sweaty - late - in my math class. Adding to my discomfiture, I had a bad sinus infection. So I was breathing hard from exertion *and* sniffling with a stuffy head. Certain all of my 19 year old classmates were staring at me, plus the thirty-something teacher who did not seem to be gifted with a sense of humor, I had to blow my nose and felt very self-conscious about it. Bffzzzzz....sniff. Not glamorous at all.

Worse, I had the same damn thing happen to me the next class two days later. I had a parking permit this time for the regular lots, but they were all full too! This time I did find a space in the visitor lot nearby the math building, but still arrived sniffling and short of breath, late, and didn't finish the quiz.

My next math class is tomorrow. My sinus infection is better, and I had hoped to arrive in week 2 with polished nails and touched-up hair color to hide the gray. Alas, I literally have not had time to do those things due to other school assignments and...well, motherhood.

The least I can do is arrive to class on time. I am going to leave for school the very second my son gets on the school bus. How do you think I'll do? Tune in tomorrow and find out.

Mom Goes To College - The Reality Show

In one of the tunnels connecting the main buildings at Wright State, there is a mural on the wall. It's one of those timelines, as you might see in a museum, with photos and commentary about important events in the college's history. It begins in 1967, which is when WSU was established. The panel at the end says "40th Anniversary."
It is a very LONG mural.

I wonder if it carries much meaning to the average student attending WSU, beyond a casual "huh, that's interesting."
What it means to me is this --- 1967 to 2008 is a very long time.
The walk from the visitor's parking lot to the bookstore in the student union building is also very long. Especially for an out-of-shape, slightly overweight 40 year old, carrying about 30 pounds of books.

We had a very nice, spring-like day today. I got notice that the books I ordered for next quarter were available for pick up - that's something new, too! Registering online for classes...then being sent directly to a screen that let me order my books, the system knew what I needed, just check off some boxes and put in my credit card number and whiz-bang, all done! So I headed up to campus to get them.

I'd been up there a couple times already, once to see my advisor, and once to find my way around. The first time, I got a parking ticket. I do not know why, but it simply had not occurred to me that I couldn't just park in front of the building where I needed to go. Not only did I lack a permit, but that lot was also only for staff. Oops. I appealed (again, online) and was granted a warning instead. Whew. But visitor parking costs $1 an hour, in the proper lot, which is conveniently located at the opposite end of campus from the bookstore. Of course. Is there a message here?

I cruised up the interstate, moon-roof open, listening to some tunes piped in from my MP3 player to the car stereo, feeling very modern and youthful. Hip, even. As I boogied to a Jane's Addiction tune, yes just a kid going to college....it suddenly hit me: "Been Caught Stealing" came out in 1990. Ohmygosh, that would be the birth year of a college freshman, and my "peers" in Junior year would have been TWO. Me? I was working full time and moving in with Mike. That was the year we went to Lollapalooza, anyone remember that? Oh, and I saw the Grateful Dead that summer in Louisville.

Yeah, I'm just a kid going to college.

As I pulled into the parking lot and took my parking pass from the attendant, my stereo was playing an ABBA song. :) Hey, why fight it?

I am trying to walk the halls without looking completely confused and lost, but I am not doing it very well. Twice today I was asked "are you okay?" I guess it will get better. At least I only have to walk the halls looking confused and lost two days a week. From my computer, taking a Web-based class, nobody needs to know I'm a doddering old lady. Except it occurs to me that my name may give it away. Nobody under the age of 35 is named Pamela.

What a geek I am -- like Hermione Granger would do, I am going through all of my books ahead of time to get the head start I anticipate needing. I have high hopes for this math class, because the first chapter does not even have any numbers in it. The first chapter is about logic and reasoning. I can do that! I also have a class on world music; it comes with 3 CD's and a Web interface and I can't wait to pop that in the computer. For my literature class I have four books -- Beowulf, All Quiet on the Western Front, Shakespeare's Henry V, and The Things They Carried. I wish I had a syllabus so I knew which book comes first, but I decided to just go ahead and start reading something, so I'm about 40 pages into the last one I listed. It's about the Vietnam War. They have also helpfully included DVD's for All Quiet and Henry V. Good idea, I think. One of my lit classes from before (uh...20 years ago) assigned Out Of Africa, and I just wasn't getting it, so I went up and rented the movie. But knowing how movies are usually pale representations, I worried the whole time and felt like a cheater!

My books are now tucked into a purple backpack upon which my dear daughter has written her name with a black Sharpie. It's the one she used last year. She's offered me some dangly things to hang from the zipper as she likes to do. She's even offered me the use of her current backpack if I don't want the one bearing her name. That is very sweet, but since the one she uses now has flames and skulls, I think I'll pass.

Now, here's one last "old lady" anecdote. I picked up the student newspaper. In honor of spring break, this was "The Beer Issue." It lists and reviews various nearby night spots and reviews a handful of specialty microbrews. There is an article called "Drinking Tips, From A Bartender." Other articles include such precious statements as "drunk is the only way to travel" and advises heading to the Student Legal Services if you should get arrested for drunkenness. Now...I have been known to knock back a few, but...the MOM in me is horrified. When I was 18-20 or so I would have thought it was COOL to cover such stuff in the student paper, drinking tips? I could add some of my own. But now?

This is going to be quite a journey.

Wouldn't this make a great reality show? Seriously!

Now I'm thinking of movies that have featured old folks like me going back to college. Let's see...Educating Rita, and that one movie with Rodney Dangerfield...anything else you can think of?

My Car Is In the Garage!

It's amazing, it's incredible...my car is in the garage.

We have a two-car garage. Our last house had one too. So does it sound reasonable to expect to actually place a car in there? ONE car, not two. Nah...garages are not really meant for cars, are they? They are meant for boxes, old refrigerators, bicycles, dog crates, lawn mowers, toys, and bags of trash you intend to take out later, after it stops raining.

I like to put my car in there, though. Especially now that I have a nice shiny new one. I worry about her. Wind...tree limbs...hail...

My dear hubby cleared out half of the garage a couple days ago. I put my car in there tonight. If we get freezing rain, as we're supposed to overnight, I won't have to clean my car off if I need to go somewhere tomorrow morning.

Like taking the kids to school, because you just know they're gonna miss the bus.

If we have a 1-hour delay, the bus schedules are all wonky. The bus is supposed to arrive exactly one hour after it would have on a normal day, but it never does. And since my kids push everything to the last minute, a one-MINUTE discrepancy in this routine means they're gonna need rides.

So...um...where am I going with this?

I wish I had the remote to the garage door opener.

The house came with an opener, but we never got the remotes.

But my car is IN the garage, and that feels like a minor victory! I'll take what I can get.

So Simple and Elegant...

WIKIPEDIAN PROTESTER



http://xkcd.com

King Tut, How'd You Get so Funky?

My daughter's 6th grade class is studying Ancient Egypt.

They were given a selection of various projects to choose from - things they had to research and create, such as a beaded collar, an Egyptian dictionary, and some other things I can't remember. My daughter decided to make a King Tutankhamen Death Mask.

King Tut...King Tut...every time I think of King Tut this song keeps running through my mind, remember Steve Martin's song?





Anyway...the project came with detailed directions on how to make this mask. I took one look at it and immediately a few more hairs on my head turned gray. Why do they do this to us parents? Fortunately my hubby has a strong art background and he's the one that made the trip to the craft store to get our supplies. He came home with a styrofoam board, a plastic mask, some paint and some new brushes, and proclaimed that he had no idea how to make papier-mache.

Well geez, that's the one thing I do know. Newspaper, flour and water.

It was a team effort, and here is the finished product. We're all quite proud.

---

Louisville Cheer Competition!

My daughter is a cheerleader. She's on the basketball squad, which is the one that does all the stunts and flippy things, basket tosses and pyramids and back tucks and such. No sense in all that work if you're not going to compete, right? So this weekend we had our 2nd competition of the year, for which we had to drive alllll the way down to Louisville, KY.

That's about a 2 1/2 hour drive for us. I like road trips. My kids don't, particularly, despite the fact we ply them with just about every diversion money can buy -- MP3 player, Nintendo DS, books, cards, a portable DVD player, a box full of junk food to snack on. Hubby had to work, so the drive was all mine, alone, on my own, which was kind of a bummer. But it was OK. We had fun!

We got to the hotel about 7 p.m. Friday. All the girls & their families stayed at the same hotel, so that evening they were in the pool, having pizza, running around all over the place like they owned it. Much fun! And at 6:45 a.m. we were up again for hair and makeup in the conference room -- curly ponytail hairpieces, glittery eye shadow, that sort of thing. They all look so cute - a little silly and overdone close up, but it's stage makeup, meant to impress at a distance.




They came in 1st place in their division! And they also won the trophy for all-around highest score! I gotta tell you, this cheer squad is GOOD. They are such a pleasure to watch! One of these days I'm going to tape it and put a video clip on here.

After the competition, I figured we should do something special for my son, because he got dragged along to a girly-girl event and managed to be positive about it, which is a real challenge for a nine-year-old boy. So we took him to the Louisville Slugger museum and factory! He loves baseball.





We toured the factory, looked at the museum displays, and the kids tried their skill in the batting cage. As usual, their favorite part was the souvenir shop! I bought my son a personalized Louisville Slugger bat, which I think is a pretty good exchange for sitting through a cheer competition.






I love to travel, but I'd rather do it as a passenger. It's great to be home.

Mama Bear vs. Kids' Sports

Kids' sports were a big part of my day today, and really, have been a big part of my life for the past few years. I'm not a big sports person, you know? When I was a kid, I played soccer one year, played volleyball one year in Jr. High, and that was it. My husband isn't "sporty" either, really. We don't go to pro games or watch on TV.

But we like sports in theory. We agree that they are wonderful for a child's development - character, physical conditioning, mental growth and motor skills, and social networking. So we don't PUSH them, exactly, but we do encourage them. Mostly we have asked them to try new things throughout the years.

My daughter has played soccer and basketball, but has settled on gymnastics. She's taken gymnastics classes since she was 6 and competed for 3 years (this year she's doing cheer instead.) My son has done soccer, basketball, tae kwon do, floor hockey, and has settled on baseball and wrestling.

Boy, it's rough on "mama bear," here. Because in sports, kids tend to get hurt! It's unavoidable. We walk a mighty fine line between wanting to protect them and comfort them and needing to pat 'em on the head and say "go walk it off, you're fine."

Two years ago my daughter began jumping to the high uneven bar, which is terrifying to watch. Once during warm ups at a meet, she missed the high bar and fell ON HER HEAD. I sprinted over to her, panicked...then caught myself halfway there and stopped to see if she was OK before scooping her up like a toddler with a skinned knee and embarrassing her! She was fine. Sigh.

Right now she complains her back hurts; she may have pulled a muscle during cheer practice doing back handsprings. Back pain at age 11 is no small matter and I'm tempted to pull her out and take her to the ER! But instead I have to let her and her coaches decide, feed her Tylenol and give her a heating pad.

We had an incident today at my son's wrestling meet which really pitted my "mama bear" instinct against my resolve to teach my kids to be strong.

My son was up against another boy on his own team, a friend of his actually, who is a very strong, determined competitor. They are evenly matched, and watching them compete is exciting! Well, my son lost, but when he walked out of the ring, he was holding his stomach and wincing as if it hurt him badly.

Mama bear took over, envisioning internal bleeding and organ damage! I went over to him, kneeled down and asked him if he was OK. At 9, he's still a sweet, cuddly cherub to me, he's my youngest and I always feel like smothering him with kisses and carrying him around, but I must resist! He said he was all right, but his stomach felt "weird." He came up to where his dad was sitting, still clutching his belly.

I was shocked when my husband got angry with me for what I considered legitimate concern and maternal comforting! He said I was babying the boy and he was fine. Boy, was I mad. What if he's really hurt? I asked. Maybe we should take him to the urgent care?

We parted ways soon after that - driving separate cars, because I'd been at a cheer competition with my daughter earlier - still angry with each other. How, I wondered, could my husband be so cavalier about our son's sore belly?

He explained to me later why our son did it, and proved to me exactly why boys need fathers in their lives. My husband understood, and I had no clue.

You see, our son was crying. Apparently losing a wrestling match can be a very emotional experience for a young boy! It's not like playing a game of checkers, after all. Wrestling creates, and requires, an adrenalin rush -- it's a male domination game, and satisfies their natural need to express aggression! Losing is frustrating as hell, but it builds character in ways that a mere Mama Bear can only imagine. Girls really are wired differently.

My boy was feeling this emotional release, but he didn't want to actually cry, so he (not purposely, I'm sure) invented a physical reason for being so short of breath, red-cheeked and teary-eyed. He wasn't upset...no...it was his stomachache.

His father told him to take a deep breath, get back down there and congratulate his friend on the win. At the time I thought he was nuts - the boy was hurt, after all, he was in no condition to go talk to anyone! But Dad was right. Comforting our son for his tummyache at that time would be like coddling him and "poor baby-ing" him for losing.

It's good to learn how to lose.

It's also good to learn your limits, which means that at some point mama bear has to pull back and let her "cubs" experience some pain and figure out how to deal with it.

I heard a story today related to that. Last year at a cheer competition, one of the members of my daughter's cheer squad back-handspringed right off the mat and landed on her neck. She picked herself back up and, instead of walking tactfully off the stage, proceeded to finish her routine, complete with being the top of a stunt pyramid -- despite the fact that the top half of her body felt completely numb on one side. The girl was rushed to the hospital immediately after and spent two days there. She'd had a concussion and slight damage to her spine! But she is now legend in the squad because of her COMMITMENT. They won 1st place, don't you know.

You can go too far, and this is an example of doing just that.

If mama bear lets her cubs learn how to deal with pain and injury, they'd better also learn the proper balance between taking care of themselves and fulfilling team obligations.

This is something that most adults haven't learned.

It's a rough world, and there's much to figure out, but whatever happens, mama bear will always be on duty.