Scanners, Mowing Lawns & Things You Just Shouldn’t Learn How To Do

I upset one of the yearbook photographers last week. I know that little tidbit probably doesn’t surprise anyone. Bless his heart, he wanted me to show him how to use the scanner.

“Sorry,” I said. “I don’t know how.”

“What?” he asked in mortified disbelief.

“No, really,” he tried again, “I need you to show me how.”

“No can do,” I said. “I don’t know how. Have Mikey show you tomorrow.”

He sort of harrumped and walked away. I don’t believe he believed me. But honestly, I truly, really don’t know how.

Blame it on my mother.

When I was much younger (OK, OK, OK, make that much, much, much younger), she gave me this little bit of advice– “Don’t ever learn how to do something unless you plan to do it forever.”

That’s how learning to mow a lawn slid effortlessly into my No. 1 slot of things I never learned how to do. (I can proudly say that not one--nadda, zippo, zilch-- blade of grass has ever been sliced or diced by my hand. No siree, Missy. Just ask my husband because, after all, forever really is a long, long time.)

So you can see how learning to operate that scanner just naturally worked its way up there too. (Although I would like to point out, I am at least one step head of Mr. Yearbook Photographer. Jeepers, at least I know you have to turn on the computer the scanner is attached to before it will work.)

That scanner incident naturally got me to thinking (and we all know what happens when that happens). Well, like I said, I got to thinking about all the things that we just never, ever should learn how to do. Drum roll pah-leese…

Richie’s Top 5 Things
One Should Never Learn How To Do
Or You’ll Be Stuck Doing Them Forever
(And Forever Really Is A Long, Long Time)

No. 5… Be a cheerleading sponsor…
I don’t even think that one needs an explanation. If you’ve ever known one (remember one of my BFFs was one), you know why. Have you seen all the things cheerleading sponsors have to do and put up with? Just the mere thought of coordinating a pep rally makes me hyperventilate.

And, of course, have you ever noticed that the adjective “psycho” always seems to attach itself to “cheerleading mom”? Hails bails, they’ve made movies on the subject. You also must have a high level of cuteness to come up with all those clever decorations, spirit sticks and pep rally themes. I mentioned all this to my hallway monitoring compadres and the cross country coach’s eye started twitching at the mere mention of it. Somehow, somewhere, in a galaxy far, far away, she actually did a stint as a cheerleading sponsor. The three of us shuddered just thinking about it.

No. 4… Math
Now before you hata’s start emailing me on the importance of math and the greatness of numbers, let me just say I only included math because, quite frankly, it makes my head explode. I’ve also discovered as I age, my brain has automatically started erasing anything and everything related to math. Gone so far? Those once memorized multiplication tables for nines, eights and sevens. I fear the sixes won’t be far behind.

No. 3…Lesson Plans
Do they really ever mean anything? Could anyone really ever follow one? When I think of lesson plans, I think of Macbeth’s soliloquy: “…it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.” (Uh-oh, I think I just called myself an idiot.)

No. 2…Calligraphy
People who know how to do that have a special place in my heart because anytime (and every time) someone needs something on a certificate or award that person with that particular talent gets the fun job of spending the rest of that day hunched over with quill in hand and ink at the ready. But I, my friends, can thankfully exclaim…“Not It!”

And now for our No. 1 Thing One Should Never Ever Learn How To Do (Can I pah-leese get an “Amen, sister”?)…

No. 1…Befriend a pica
Oh it all began seemingly innocuous enough, learning about points and picas (pronounced pahy-kuh.) That, of course, was merely the gateway. Before I knew it, I owned a pica pole and was discussing one pica margins, dominant elements, secondary coverage, ladders and fonts. If I knew all of that would have morphed me into a yearbook and newspaper adviser, well, I think maybe I would have, should have purposefully mispronounced it and queried, “Pee-ka? What’s a Pee-ka? Margins? Are we talkin’ about stock margins?”

But no siree, Missy, I didn’t do that, and now 20-plus years later, I’m forever a publications adviser.

And, trust me, my friends, there won’t be any kind of bail out--government or otherwise--to rescue me from all of this.

Afghanistan, Channeling Forrest Gump & Uh-Oh

I believe Art Linkletter and Bill Cosby coined the phrase “Kids say the darndest things” and that pretty much has been my week. Let’s just hit the high points (or low points) depending upon whether you’re one of those people who look at the glass as half full or half empty. I’ve got to warn you, though, you probably ought to sit down for this. I guess in our crisis rating scale we can call these “situations.”

Situation #1…
I was showing photograph #15 from the Washington Post to my photojournalism class, and I was pointing out composition elements (yes, with my rubber chicken) and reading the caption, “A boy carries jars of water in Kabul, Afghanistan…”

In the background were three women wearing burkas.

“What are those women wearing?” one student asked.

“I think they’re called burkas,” I said.

“Why are they wearing them?” the student asked.

“Because they have to. It’s part of their culture…” I said.

“Well, I wouldn’t,” the student said.

“Yeah, you would,” someone else piped in.

“No, I wouldn’t,” the student said.

“You’d have to…” I said.

“They’d probably kill you if you didn’t,” someone else chimed in.

“Well, I’d just leave then,” the student said.

“You can’t,” I said trying desperately to turn this into one of those “teachable moments” that we all hear/read about.

“It’s not like in this country where you can just move out of state,” I continued.

“I’d leave any way,” the student said.

“There’s no place to go,” I said.

“I’d go to Iraq,” the student said.

There are lots of things I could have said. All of which I’m pretty sure would fit rather nicely in my “Things That Will Get You Fired” folder. So instead, I was thankful that the room was semi-dark because I think (OK, OK, I’m pretty sure), I reflexively rolled my eyes (something I’ve perfected by hangin’ with my teen-angst peeps), sighed and thought it best to just change the slide and move on.


Situation #2
And speaking of moving on, I just wanted everyone to know that I attended a meeting (one of many this past week) in which the concept of self esteem (or self of steam as love to call it) reared its ugly head. And, to my credit, not once did I launch into my YMCA-Yoda-speech. (Now that could be because it’s all a part of that kinder, gentler me, or perhaps it was because my “Things That Will Get You Fired” folder is getting bigger. You decide.) Of course all this pent-up stress, according to my publications staffers, has caused me to sporadically channel Forrest Gump’s voice while on newspaper deadline this week. I’m not quite sure how that happened.

But somehow, just somehow, I don’t think that’s a very good thing. Makes me wonder how long my counter (located on the right sidebar) will keep ticking.

Situation #3
Now that I’m through with our Issue #4 deadline, I tried to get caught up on the goings on in the real world.

I had an “Uh-Oh” moment.

The Lewisville district attorney’s office decided not to prosecute a 7th grader who got in all kinds of trouble for picking up his teacher’s bottle of hand sanitizer, rubbing the gel on this hands and smelling it–or rather apparently inhaling it “heavily.” (You can read the story here.) Apparently there are dimwits out there beyond my little world that think drinking hand sanitizer is f-u-n. (“Hey, bro, forget the tequila, how about a shot of that Black Raspberry Vanilla Hand Sanitizer? Or that Brown Sugar Fig?” Jeez, Louise, what’s next?)

It was an Uh-Oh moment because I have some rather nice smelling Bath & Body Works lotion on my desk for kids to use. And, I must say, the kids do smell it. Hails Bails, they probably inhale it heavily. But that’s lotion, so I guess it doesn’t count.

It was also an Uh-Oh moment because there is that cute little bottle of Aveda blue oil. You know, the one I have in my top drawer, just above and to the left of the drawer that houses the “Things That Will Get You Fired” folder.

The $12.50 blue oil is one of those natural stress-relieving oils that, as the Aveda site says, helps “dissolve tension and raise energy levels with the balancing aromas of refreshing peppermint and soothing blue camomile.” The site also says to “breathe in the aroma deeply.”

Uh-Oh.

My news editor and editor-in-chief became instant fans–or addicts.

See what I mean.

Uh-Oh.

I’m thinking I might need to move that bottle down and to the right…

Yep, right into that “Things” folder.