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…
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.
