Summer School Prison

So apparently I haven't done any blogging since March 20th. MARCH 20TH! That is an incredibly long time (at least in my 5-year-old-attention-span brain). My problem is this: I keep coming up with blog ideas, but then fail to remember them once I actually come within vicinity of a computer or other writing device. And I'm lazy. Mostly just I'm lazy. So here's for a quick filler blog. The school year is finally over. But no, not really. For the first time ever I've decided to take summer classes. At first it seemed like a good idea, but now - not so much. I wanna go home! I wanna sleep in until 10 in the morning every day (ha, yeah right)! I wanna lie on the beach and read books (non-academic type) for hours on end! I want to actually have a summer! But, such is life. I've just gotta suck it up and put on my "big girl panties" as some of my friends like to say. I can do dese! I can make it! Just one more month!

Sun Tan

As I'm sure most of you have noticed (if you live in the Southern United States, at least), it is Spring. And as I know you all know, after Spring comes summer, the biggest beach season of the year. All across the country (especially in those peripheral states) boys and girls are starting to think about sprucing up their tans for spring break and summer vacation. After all, who would want to be seen by the opposite sex looking like a corpse (even if a very good-looking corpse, in a bikini)?
However, I would like to propose to my caucasian friends out there that this is a complete waste of your time. God made white people white for a reason. To be white. I myself have long given up on tanning and accepted my Anglo genetic heritage.
For many years I fought against my genetic disposition. I would fret about how pale my legs were, how hairy-I mean- pasty my belly was. No matter what I tried, I could not get a tan. Sure, I would darken a little, but definitely not enough to match the exotic beauties displayed on the covers of health and fashion magazines. Then one day I realized that being white is kind of awesome. I can totally close my eyes and pretend to be some kind of celtic queen. I now have an advantage over all those other white gals flocking desperately to the tanning beds. I have achieved what they have not - comfort with my own skin. You know, even those pimples aren't too bad. I mean, I'm a young adult handling a significant amount of stress. These things are bound to happen. Oh well.
So now I petition you - give up! Accept yourself as who you really are! As the old prayer goes - "Lord, if you can't make me thin, please make my friends fat." Wait, I don't think that's the quote I'm looking for...

Window

Windows are a bane to my academic performance. Here I am, sitting in class, staring mindlessly at the teacher (insert Wawawawa), when suddenly I see something glimmer. Just out of the corner of my eye, but it grabs my attention. Sunlight jumping off the glass from the window. Then, beyond that – green and blue and purple and red and yellow. Color and light and freedom! Let me out that window!
Of course by now the teacher isn’t even there. Who cares about behavioral theories and internal loci of motivation! It’s spring outside! Let’s go! Who would want to stare at a power point when they can gaze out of a window?
It doesn’t help at all that the windows in my classroom are about as large as a VW Bug. I can see the whole world out there! This school stuff? It makes me feel as sterile as a hospital bed. I need dirt and sunlight and grass and blue sky! That window – is going to fail me.
OK. Focus.
Nah… Maybe after spring break.

Breathe In, Breathe Out

As a college student, I experience a lot of stress. Seriously, all you adults who roll your eyes at the complaints of us young folks - being a 20-somethin' is extremely difficult. If you don't believe me, you should try it some time. It's tough work! Being a student is even harder! I have all the grown-up things I need to do (cooking, cleaning, maintaining employment, doing my own laundry) and also hours and hours of mentally grueling classwork. I feel like all I ever do these days is work, school, or drive (between work and school).
To make my life even more stressful, I have my TEP admission process coming up.
TEP = teacher education program. In order to get into this program - so I can continue my studies, so I can graduate and get a job, so I can make money, so I won't starve, so I won't die prematurely on the streets - I am required to do two things. These things are: complete a standardized basic skills test and sit for an interview.
Every since I began my studies in education, my professors have told me that the interview and test are not a big deal. But I don't believe them. Anything upon which hinges so much has to be monumentally difficult. That is just a fact of life.
So, once again, I am stressing out, majorly. Sometimes I think my entire life is, has been, and will be, just one giant ball of stress. I have this suspicion that I going to die of stomach ulcers before I'm 40.
I know, you're all thinking, "quit whining, Hannah, you'll do fine - you're a genius!" And I know, you're right. But that doesn't mitigate the very real pain of my own, self-inflicted torment.
My only consolation is that all these things (or at least, the interview and test) shall pass, within approximately 10 days. Ten days until my most certain demise (really, I'll be fine, but my guts sure don't know that). Please send your encouragements written on the side of a stress ball and/or jar of peanut butter.

At Last!

There's this guy at work... I know, you're all thinking "gag me with sap!" But this guy is really - something. He works in the stockroom, so we pass each other a lot in the store. We don't talk much, just the typical "how-do-ye"s, but we've always shared a connection. Whenever we pass by each other - we don't have to say a word - just a look lets us know how the other is feeling. A busy day at the store brings a role of the eyes. Managerial blunders precipitates shared smirks. And sometimes it's just a smile just to smile.
For the longest time that's all it was. But we both knew there was something else there. Finally, it happened. Yes, you know. It. No! Not that it! Such dirty-minded people!
The store had just closed and the lights were low in the backroom. I was headed out, my stuff slung over my slumped and tired shoulders, my head down. It had been a rough shift. But he was walking back in, like he'd forgotten something.
"Hey," he said, nodding shyly at me. I smiled back and we started to pass each other. Suddenly he stopped. And somehow I knew. My heart leaped into my throat as he turned, slowly, an odd look on his face.
"Hey," he said. "So, I guess - tomorrow's Valentines Day. I don't know if - if you're - doing anything."
I shook my head.
"Well maybe - you'd like to do something with me."
"Like - a date?" I was somehow managing to stay cool. Are you asking me out?"
The look melted into an awkward grin. "Yeah, I am. Do you wanna go out with me?"
Of course, by this point, I was completely flipping out. But I wasn't gonna let him know that! I cocked my head. "Well I don't know - but I'd like to find out."
He nodded. "OK. You wanna start - finding out - say, tomorrow after class?"
I couldn't help it then. I was all giggles. You can't blame me! I'm a female. "Sure," I laughed. "Why not?"
Good question. Why not write a fake V-day post for your enjoyment? Love to share the love - even the nonexistent kind.

Lions vs. Cows

I think you should know that Gold is the most beautiful color in the entire world. Or at least it was last night. Once again, my institution's annual "homecoming" event, College Night, has arrived. I put homecoming in quotations because it is not your typical, football/dance/dresses homecoming. In fact, I don't actually know why it's called homecoming at all - we don't even have a football team. Every year the school splits along color lines (purple and gold that is - the school colors) and the two sides put on competing musical performances. Yes, West Side Story style. The plays are original productions written, directed, performed, etc. by students. Whichever side wins receives the privilege of being "the best" for a whole year.
I know it probably sounds pretty dumb to all you "big school" graduates/fans. But to this little liberal arts campus, College Night is tantamount to any great football rivalry. All year students flash each other peace signs and thumbs up (purple and gold side signs respectively), administer not-so-subtle jabs at the others' theatrical ability, and desperately push new students to make up there mind already about which side they're on. There's always the option of "going green"; that is, not affiliating with either. But that would be like going to the Iron Bowl and saying you don't care if Alabama or Auburn wins and you're just there for the "experience".
I would try to explain the feeling of frenzied camaraderie that comes every show night as fans cheer for their side; the solemn reverence that permeates the theater as we all sing our side songs; the defiance displayed under the taunts of the opponents. But that would be kind of pointless. Because, in a way, the Green's do have it right; it is all in the experience. But part of that experience is being able to join in when - on Saturday night - your side is in on their knees in tears or screaming and dancing with joy.
Then on Monday it starts all over again. We'll all be friends until this time next year when everyone's waiting for the answer to "what's it gonna be?"

Teacher Terrors

So I've decided to become an elementary teacher. Like, legit - I've changed my major and everything, it's done. And I'm excited about it. For the first time in my entire life I'm actually psyched about my career path. It's great.
Sometimes though, I have my "not-so-sure-about-this" moments. These mostly occur in my Introduction to Teaching class. This class is supposedly designed to provide us with an overview of the profession and of what we need to know to complete our teaching training. Really though, the class is designed to scare the s*** out of us.
According to my teacher, by the time we finish our first year we will have been sued, had to tackle a violent child, been shot at, had to report several instances of child abuse, been sued, and have received our first pink slip (i.e. been fired). Other things I've learned so far in my first semester is that, as teachers, we shall be expected to simultaneously teach every single subject known to man to every possible learning style (i.e. "yes that child with Downs Syndrome is going to pass this nationally standardized physics test"). We will also be required to work every concession stand of every sports event, stay four hours after school every day to tutor struggling readers, drive home the kids whom their parents forgot, make coffee everyday for all the veteran teachers, and covertly monitor our students' Facebook pages for bullying activities.
If you think the moment of joy received from hearing students read their first book is worth all this trouble, then you are crazy. Fortunately, I've never had complete command of my logical faculties.