Thanksgiving Break, Yearbook & Letting It Be

In a few hours, Thanksgiving break will be gone. Sadly, the three bags of stuff I bought home won't be.

Some how, some way, some day I wish I could wave a magic wand or twitch my nose like Samantha in Bewitched and be done with it all--the bags of stuff that is.

At least I managed to sort through most of the disaster I refer to as "yearbook."  I even met with my yearbook rep over Thanksgiving Break to discuss yearbook-related stuff. I believe if the pilgrims had to do that, they would have skedaddled right on out of Plymouth Rock as speedy quick as the ol' Mayflower could sail. (No, silly, the pilgrims wouldn't have skedaddled because of my yearbook rep, who really is a rather nice guy, but because of yearbook stuff in general.)

I guess only a yearbook adviser would truly understand my angst.

In order to calm myself in these last few hours before the end of break, I thought I would (1) eat a little bit of chocolate and (2) drink some green tea. I buy the kind of tea that contains nifty little philosophical ditties. The one for this evening said, "The best way of life is to be, simply be."

Really?

Obviously, the writer of that little cleverness was never a journalism adviser.

Or a teacher.

Could be fun though. Maybe tomorrow when I go to class, I'll just let things "be."

Yeah, let's see how well that one works for me.

My Sunny Disposition, Pell Grants & Pilgrims

I do believe I would have had a better week if I had just set my hair on fire and run screaming from the building.

And, no, my dears, that statement was not meant as a lesson in hyperboles or histrionics. Sadly, my life tends to be one big, fat hyperbole punctuated with an inordinate amount of Big Fat Stupid Heads. But since this is a no whining blog, I’m going to stop the pity party.

Suffice it to say if you had had to walk in my shoes this week, well, I think you would have chunked them at the nearest target in a fit of protest and run away.

I think all of this had to do with being on newspaper deadline, yearbook deadline and  progress report deadline. And, of course, it didn’t help my sunny disposition when I didn’t win a door prize at the faculty Christmas party either.


And, of course, my sunny disposition is getting just a tad tired waiting for Oprah to get back to me on my book. (Oh, come now, don’t be a dream-killing-naysayer. I know I stand about as much a chance of that happening as, well, winning a darn-tootin-door-prize at the faculty Christmas party.)

All of this angst was exacerbated by the fact that my newspaper editor and news editor made fun of my previous post regarding the purchase of my new $98 skin care regimen. (They made little snide remarks like “Did you really pay $98?!” and “Do you really think it’s working at all?…” or my favorite, “Maybe you should try the stuff my mother uses. That seems to work.”

I suppose, though, the most unsettling thing occurred while my journalism class was sharing their current events. If you think the under 25 set listens to even a fraction of what you or anyone else says, you would be sadly mistaken, Missy. In fact, I’m not sure they listen to anyone. Here’s my proof…


One student shared a story about how there was an $18 million shortfall in the Pell Grant program.

“Why are Pell Grants important to you?” I asked the class.

“Because they gave us Thanksgiving…” one student answered.


“What?” I along with the rest of the class said (perhaps a bit too loudly). 

“What in the world are you talking about?” I asked.


“Oh, wait,” he said, “it’s because they discovered America…” 

 “What?” I said—this time walking over to the nearest chair to sit down.

 “Pilgrims,” he said.

 “Pell Grants,” I said.

 “I thought you said Pilgrims,” he replied.

 I didn’t have the heart to tell him that neither the Pell Grants nor the Pilgrims discovered America.