You know that dream where you’re wearing a hat eerily similar to Elmer Fudd’s and you put foundation on your toothbrush instead of toothpaste and then when you get to school there are giant stuffed animals in the potholes in the parking lot? No? Oh. Never mind, then.
A Shot of Pepto for Breakfast and Nothing to Wear
Today is Sunday. It’s the last day of my glorious Spring Break. I say glorious not because of all the wonderful things I did or accomplished over said break. I say glorious because it gave me a chance to rest, which I desperately needed. Apparently I still need it.
Frankly I’m a little worried about going back to school tomorrow. All the little ones will be recharged and ready to go, but I’m still drained. I feel a bit like my old cell phone battery, I need to be powered up more and more regularly and I lose my charge faster. This illness, whatever it is, has knocked me out. Still coughing (less though, thankfully) and still low energy, but now a new twist… yep, tummy troubles.
Seriously, I slept relatively well, thanks to Mr. Nyquil and his magic medicine, but this morning was just no fun. I stumbled into the bathroom expecting the same old routine, but nope, surprise! My insides rebelled. At least I was in the right place at the right time. Mmm, nothing like some delicious, pink, Pepto Bismol to get the day started.
Eventually I managed to pull myself together enough to shower. A few minutes later I found myself standing in my closet faced with the remnants and reminders of a smaller me. Granted, not a much smaller me, but still. As my eyes darted around, the seeds of panic began to take hold. I had nothing to wear.
“Calm down, it’s not a work day, you have options,” I told myself.
“Like what? Pajamas?!” I answered with maximum snark.
I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I wouldn’t talk to a friend like that, so I shouldn’t talk to myself that way. Then this gem slipped out of my brain,
“Oh shut up, you need to face facts, you’re a whale.”
Ouch.
I grabbed a cute (huge) brown beaded tank top and a pair of (giant) olive-green (stretchy) shorts and got the hell out of there.
Note to self: Maybe it’s the only the Pepto talking, but stop being so MEAN to yourself!
other note to self: Do Your LAUNDRY! There are clothes in there that fit.
last note to self: Maybe it’s time to pick up a couple of pieces for the spring wardrobe.
Maybe I do need to go back to work. At least my dresses still fit.
P.S. Well no wonder. Today is March 15, the Ides of March. My father, who was not a superstitious man, always warned about the Ides of March. I know it’s from Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, and that there’s no logical foundation to it, but I still hear my father saying, “Beware the Ides of March.” Maybe I’ll just stay in today.
The SAT and Me (Actually my Kid, but it Didn’t Rhyme)
In a few hours my son will wake up and sharpen a few Number 2 pencils, then go off to take his SAT. For those of you who may be unfamiliar with this particular phenomenon, the SAT is the Scholastic Aptitude Test, and in the U.S. it’s the biggie for college (or university) acceptance.
In addition to scrutinizing students’ academic records and reviewing their extracurricular activities, schools also look at their test scores to decide little things like whether or not to accept them and/or offer them various types of financial aid. Naturally the better a student scores, the more opportunities are likely to become available to him.
Realistically, in this country there are so many colleges and universities that virtually any student willing to fork over tuition money should be able to find a spot somewhere. The application process, including the whole SAT (or, in some cases, ACT – a similar test) exercise is really just to sort potential students into various tiers. Top universities want top students, so these exams are supposed to give them some feedback on who those top prospects might be. I get it. It still stresses me out a little.
Honestly, I think I get a little more worried about these types of things than my son does. I suppose it’s because I can see cause and effect relationships that can result from scoring well or not-so-well. To him it’s just another test, another hurdle he has to jump over in his high school career. I don’t know that he sees it as any more or less important than any other test. I mean I know that we’ve had conversations about it, but truthfully I don’t think they really made much impact. He’s had a lot on his mind, and this is just another thing on the list. Frankly, I think he’d rather skip it, but he knows it’s required, so he’ll do it.
It isn’t that I don’t think he’ll do well. I do. He’s bright and retains information really well. He has good test taking strategies, and good time management skills, and he’s been preparing. He knows the format of the test, and he has the ability to do well, if the practice sessions are any indication. He’s also a good test taker, meaning that he doesn’t get overly anxious. He’ll be just fine.
Over the years I’ve worked part-time administering standardized tests such as the SAT and I’ve seen thousands of students take them. Some come in nervously chewing on their pencils, others come in as though they’ve been up all night partying. There are flirty girls, nervously giggling, and beefy guys who look uncomfortable in a large lecture hall, and kids like my son. Kids who are regular nice high school kids trying to do their best so they can keep as many options open for their futures as possible. Kids who work hard and study, but also have other interests. Kids who want to do well, not only for themselves, but also to make their families proud. I always root for those kids. I always think those are the kids who are going to make a difference. I’m rooting for those kids today, but one of them is getting a little more of my support than usual. Show them what you’ve got, son.
BulgingButtons 