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About The Clackamas print. (Oregon City, Oregon) 1989-2019 | View Entire Issue (April 12, 1995)
FEATURES The Clackamas Print Page 5 Wednesday, April 12,1995 UfanitedbutatlU <LM0M: akiuKoitm peep Mfr eraiMMietafteitge by Linda Barr Batdorf Staff Writer Have you ever sat up all night, perfecting the last few lines of a mas sive term paper, only to locate it the next morning under the sofa with smears of pea nut butter over 14 of its 15 meticulously- typed pages? Have any of said peanut butter smears looked suspi ciously like Morphin Power Rangers in vary ing degrees of “morph”? Have you ever had to hide your textbook on human sexuality, because after the last time you left it out, a small voice screeched at you in line at Safeway that the produce you selected looks “...an awful lot like that naked man who was in that book on the dinner table last night”? Have you ever had to turn in a class assign- ment in crayon because every last pen or pencil in your house mys teriously disappeared? Have you ever found yourself on the tele phone with an instructor, discuss ing the most urgent matters of the universe -- ot at least your upcom ing final — and had to excuse your self to wipe something off of someone? • If you answered ‘yes’ to any of the above questions, the chances are great that you are both: A) a parent and B) a student. For those of us in this secret and quite popular club, we know how hard it is to find a place to itself on the page. I am not a bril looked in his eyes. About this time study. (For me, McDonalds was liant statistician; and, quite frankly, his brother came in. “Yeah, Mom... the study hall of choice, because am a little unnerved by those who if you buy a box of Jell-O, they even though it was noisy there, the are. How do there brains DO that? give you a bucket and a shovel, noise was seldom and you can make the directed at me.) cake right in it... but We know the After all, I’d have to be out of my mind you gotta have the anguish of trying to reject the notion of throwing my home worms.” Who can re to read the same sist an invitation like line in our text work out the door for a date with two that? After all, I’d book over and handsome young men offering a bucket of have to be out of my over only to be cake with worms in it. mind to reject the no continually inter tion of throwing my rupted by a small homework out the voice asking us what would hap At any rate, I was determined door for a date with two handsome pen if our heads were all made of to do well in that class if it killed young men offering a bucket of cement. We know how hard it is me, but at this point, the killing cake with worms in it. to keep any midnight studying part was looking quite possible as The stats book hit the floor as treats around the house for long. my studies were not going so well. we loaded up our Super-Soaker We have experienced the differ I sat, crunching numbers and hal squirt guns and went on our hunt ence of keeping plain white paper lucinating about formulae and yap for the elusive Gummi Worm. We plain and white for any length of ping instructors as my three-year- had a great time, shooting each time. old crawled up on my lap and other and laughing at the sourpuss My children and my studies said... “Hey Mom. Can we go get drivers whizzing past. Springtime actually blended together rather some Gummi Worms and make was all around us as we made our nicely when I was in the middle of some dirt cake?” trek to the store. studying Early Childhood Educa My first response was noth We sang the theme from tion. My home became an instant ing less than a gag reflex. Then I “Mission Impossible” and cap laboratory. I was able to study basic development and growth patterns of a four and seven-year- old without renting them from neighbors or harassing my friends into borrowing their kids. It was wonderful. I was pleased to note on my final that I had discovered that my boys are the most brilliant, most charming, most well-behaved youngsters in this state, if not the world. As I handed in my report, the instruc tor nodded and said, “Great, an other mom reporting on her own kids.” But most of the time, it’s pretty difficult to combine the role of student with the role as mother. Fortunately, in order to keep my sanity intact, I made a decision long ago that my family wouldn’t suffer as a result of my studies. I remember a sunny spring day last year, when I was earlobes- deep in studying for a final in sta tistics (yech-h-h). Now, some people can submerge themselves in stats and come out grinning. I come out wheezing and grunting. Some brilliant statisticians take great pleasure in the little graphs and numbers that, to me, look like some sort of disease reproducing tured our Gummi Worm suspects, buckets and all, and made our way back to our home where we mixed up the chocolate pudding, tossed in the crunched -up Oreos, tossed in the Gummi Worms and whipped cream and ate it with the little plas tic shovels. I didn’t learn a great deal about statistics that day, and if you could forget how much it looked like fresh chicken manure, ' the cake-was a culinary delight. But even though I made little progress on the statistics final, I learned a thing or two on that springtime afternoon. Thing number 1 is that an oc casional adventure in the midst of studying something that is about as enjoyable as battery acid in the eyes is a good thing. After all, even after all of the numeric misery, I somehow managed to get an ‘A’ in the class. Thing number 2 is that Gummi Worm dirt cake goes down great with Fava beans and a nice Chianti.
