Oh yeah? PROVE IT!

There are some days in my 40 something, college co-ed life, that I look in the mirror and think,"What am I DOING?" I mean, seriously, what am I thinking? I hang out with twenty somethings all day, and teen somethings all night. Admittedly, when it comes to age, I am in a perpetual state of denial. I feel, therefore I am, twenty-ish. ( See previous blog-post for the 'age is only a number' diatribe...) So last week, I am rehearsing with Ragin' Red getting ready to recruit at two local schools and I am watching my movement in the mirror; make sure this hand goes here, that foot there. You know the drill. Anyway, looking at my reflection, I am suddenly painfully reminded that I am INDEED 40 something. And just for a moment I hear thoughts of, "Who do you think you are singing and dancing with all of these kids? You are SO not a college student. What are you trying to prove?" Simultaneously my college life of the last few years flashes before my eyes. Like in a sped up motion, pictures blazing, past up to the now, movie kind of way. I continue with the choreography, watching my 'moves', and, thank goodness, I snap out of it! I'll tell you who I am, you naysayer! I AM a 40 something college student, I AM a member of Ragin' Red and I CAN sing and dance with all of the other college kids! I don't have to PROVE anyTHING to anyBODY! And do you know why? Because I already have proven it. TO. MY. SELF. And that is all that matters. So there. ;)

This is Your Brain...This is Your Brain on Mid-Terms

Welcome to March! Where did February go? I try not to make excuses. I really do. But there are times when I only have one excuse. And it's a good one too. You see, being a mom? It's great! It's busy! Directing a pageant? It's great! It's busy! Being a full time student? It's great, it's busy, and if you add it to the other two I already mentioned? Well, it gives you what is known as Finals Brain. Or in this case, Mid-Term Brain. So if I may flake out on something, my only excuse is that I'm suffering from an acute case of Mid Term brain.
Any other time of the year, I consider myself a farely responsible person. But during Mid-Terms, it's like something switches. Not switching off, but switching over. I couldn't tell you where I may have left the mailbox key, or if the kids' lunch money got paid, but I can sure as heck tell you what the Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis is. And by the time I get home from school, aside from the permanent twitch in my left eye, my body does not want to move. In all honesty, my body desires nothing more than to make an appointment with my big squishy couch and and the mind-numbing entrancement of HGTV. (Or the Food Network-take your pick.)
So if my phone rings and I embark on a journey of 'where is the ring coming from', only to find my phone in the fridge, or if I miss an all important planning meeting that you told me about-in person-only one week prior, please understand. It is that time of year again. If it is not written on a Post-It and emblazoned across my kitchen cupboard, I will give you my only excuse. It is Mid-Terms. And my brain is full.

Just a Number

They say that sixty is the new forty, fifty is the new thirty, and forty? Forty is the new twenty! I must say, I'm inclined to agree. The other day in my performing class, we were learning a new hip-hop dance. Now, I'm no Karmie-from-the-hood, but I was keeping up and really loving it. As Abby, our choreographer, was bringing class to a close, I raised my hand. Call it adrenalin, call it Ritalin, call it my ZipFizz, but I looked at all my 'peeps' in that class, and exclaimed while snapping my hands in a z-formation, "Hey everybody? Age will NEVER be an excuse! Jus' sayin." Their reaction was AWESOME; some cheering, some laughing, some clapping, a high five or two, and a few BIG hugs. And I. Felt. Great.

When I decided to go to college, I met with a counselor at the school who 'specialized' in 'returning adult' students. He told me all about the workshops, the special classes, and the club they offered, all for 'adult' students. One lady chimed in,"I am so glad I don't have to be with eighteen and twenty year olds ALL day." Now, call me crazy, but, after age eighteen, aren't we all adults? Legally, I mean? Having worked with eighteen to twenty somethings for quite some time, I actually LIKE hanging around eighteen and twenty year olds! In fact, I more than like it. I love it! And while I'm confessing to y'all, I'll admit I love teenagers, I think they're fun; especially MINE! And I think it's because, in my head, I AM STILL TWENTY! Not in the I'm forever looking back, living in denial, pining for the past sense, but in the I'm young, healthy, feel great, and living in the now sense!

Needless to say, I didn't take any of those workshops, or classes, or join the 'adults only' club. (I don't go to those kind of clubs anyway.) I took regular classes, joined regular clubs, and I'll be danged if I'm not gonna have the same college experience as my twenty-something class-mates. It's a blast! Age notwithstanding, I learn so much from all of my friends, and I like to think they learn a thing or two from me. We study together, they come hang out at my house, and my kids think it's cool that their mom has 'college' friends. And you know what? I'm pretty sure hangin' out with these amazing people of ALL ages is why I feel so great. And P.S. Just so we're clear. Forty is the new twenty.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Start Your Engines....

Y'know, I'm a pretty positive person. But there are just some days that can really kick my trash. Yesterday was one of those days. It's not that anything devastatingly catastrophic happened. It's just all the little things that can sometimes pile onto my already very full plate. My brain was mush, and I have to admit, I got really discouraged.

When I started college, I sincerely wondered if my forty something brain could take the abuse. You may recall, I had a friend who helped me enter the mysterious world of academia. She said,"If I can do this, you can do this." So on those days when I became really overwhelmed, I would repeat those words of wisdom in my head over and over. " I can do this, I can do this, I can do this". But you can't just say it ANY old way. You have to give it the cadence and rhythm of a train, you have to say it three times, and you have to take deep breaths while you repeat it. (Did I mention I can be a bit OCD???) Just like the Little Engine That Could, I repeated my mantra till I could hoist my caboose over the crest of the insurmountable exam or paper or completely useless math equation.

So what, you get discouraged. I do too. Everybody does. But you know what? You have the power to let your fire go out or to refuel your furnace. You can decide to let your engine rust over or to keep the pistons pumping. And, like me, you can do it, you can do it, you can do it.

Thank You For Holding, I Will Connect You Now...

They say that of all the students who enter college, about 35% of those will drop out the first year. The reasons range from financial pressure (#1 answer...survey says!) to lack of direction. Given these varying anxieties, what makes the difference to students, like me (minority, low income, or PWD-parents without degrees), who are most likely to be in that 35%? What keeps us in school once we've slain the giant of fear to be there in the first place?

I remember going to my freshman orientation. Sure I stood out. The other kids had their moms or dads with them. And me? Well, I had my kid with ME! A professor made a presentation about the different options that were offered to students to help keep them in school. He said students who connect with an advisor, a mentor, or a professor on campus are more likely to make a graduation plan and see it through. Little did I know that HE would be the first connection that I would make on campus. He became my advisor and mentor, he kept me on the right path, and he saw me through to my Associate's. He became a trusted friend and one of my favorite people in the whole world. So today, 'reach out and touch someone', before you get disconnected.

This one's for you, Mr. Morell!

We Have Nothing to Fear, But....

The other day, I was in my performance class, when someone saw.....wait for it....A MOUSE! My reaction was exactly this,"SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP," all said while my hands moved back and forth hysterically in front of my face while simultaneously walking backwards and scanning the room for any telltale signs of the alleged creature. Why did I respond in this manner, you ask? The answer is simple. I freaking HATE mice; or birds; or frogs, or ANYTHING that moves toward me in an erratic fashion. They scare me. The Egg McMuffin of Vileness ran this way and that and finally found refuge somewhere behind a cupboard. I went on with my class, but the rest of the time, I kept a watchful eye should my nemesis return, while cold shivers ran up and down my spine. But I never yelled for help.

Everyone in my class were totally amused at my reaction. I know it's silly. I know I should face my fears. Which brings me, in a very round-about way, to today's topic; FEAR. Because of a horrifying experience my senior year of high school, I put all thoughts of college completely out of my head. It wasn't for me. Was I scared to try? Or was I scared to fail? I didn't know. All I knew was that I didn't ever want to relive that experience, ever. So I pursued other things. Now fast forward twenty something years. I had once again gone through a number of traumatic experiences and realized I had to face my fear. I had to for myself, for my daughter, and for anyone else who might be watching. So I found someone who knew the ropes and could walk me through the applications and forms and processes. I guess you could say I yelled for help. Without this help, I know I could not have taken the first of the many steps required to get my mouse-hating butt into college. So if you are out there, and you are thinking about going back to school, for whatever reason, do it. Face your fear, yell for help, and do it. And bring mouse traps.

Shoulda, Woulda, Coulda

Well, I've done it. I've added one more thing to my never-ending to do list; a blog. Why, you ask? Why would someone with a husband, two kids, a dog, 16 credit hours and commitments up the wazoo want to add one more thing? Well, I know there is someone out there who is also forty something, or thirty something, or-heck-fifty something, and they may be thinking about heading back to school. So, I'm here, now, on blogspot to tell you that IT CAN BE DONE! The only thing is, I should have started this LOOOONG ago. Thus the post title, 'Shoulda, Woulda, Coulda.' Hopefully, it's not too late. For me to remember, I mean.