The final semester of college is the time when graduating seniors start to think about the inevitable adulthood that awaits us beyond May 15.

We ponder jobs; in detail, future incomes; where we might live; the potential loss of “gasp” Internet access; debt; and just how many doctors’ appointments we can squeeze in before being booted from our parents’ insurance policies. We turn a dull 22 or 23 years old, our last college birthdays paling in comparison to the illustrious 21st birthday.

Second-semester seniors deal with all of these things, punctuated nicely by a light course schedule containing one or two of the wonderful core courses that have been strategically put off until the last possible moment. Unless, of course, you are an education major. Talk to any education major right now.

We are only about two weeks into our 14-week student-teaching engagement, and we’re exhausted.

Our days are long ones, spent immersed in our future field of expertise. We’re essentially doing 40-hour work weeks, only to come home to grade papers and stacks of written lesson plans.

But don’t get me wrong, I’m not flat-out complaining — not until you want to discuss your plans for Spring Break.

Susquehanna has a stellar education department that prides itself on sending well-qualified, dedicated individuals out into the world as student teachers who will later pursue the search for classrooms to call their own.

Allow yourself to be amazed by student-teachers. In your educational experience, one or two have most likely eclipsed your classroom.

I’m sure that as a kid you likened them to your full-time teacher, who you already thought went home to a house decorated with apple-shaped paraphernalia and sharpened pencils.

You should know now that this isn’t so. People need to realize that student-teaching is much more than the proverbial red pen and report card. Student teachers are the people who get up at 6 a.m., return to campus at or beyond 4 p.m., attend practice, grab dinner, go to work-study and attend a slue of meetings, only to crash into bed before midnight.

A student teacher’s weekend is a blessing. Suddenly 9 a.m. seems to qualify as “sleeping late.”

We’re happy to do all of this and keep plugging through with a smile as we make our transition into “reality” a few months earlier than our peers, despite the exhaustion.

But, if I could ask a few favors, it would be these: Don’t call me after midnight, fill me in on campus occurrences and let us talk — dorky as it may seem to you — about our classes and students. Oh, and if you could send me a postcard from Spring Break, that would be great.

– Kelly Jennings ‘05

Christmas seems insanely early. Even before Halloween was over, I already saw so much of what Christmas has to offer me in the way of retail this year. Walk into nearly any store and take a look around.

You will see the coming of Christmas on its shelves. However, Halloween has just ended. This is a problem.

Over Fall Break, I decided one-hour photo would be my best option for film development, the stereotypically impatient New Yorker that I am. I went to my local Wal-Mart PhotoCenter, dropped off my film and meandered in the store while I waited for my photos.
As I perused the merchandise, I decided that I would check out the Halloween section in lieu of staring uselessly at the limited selection of music. I felt nostalgic on my short walk, thinking about a time when the candy mattered more than the costume and my mom trailed me as I went from door to door.

The seasonal section looked like a war zone. Boxes were strewn everywhere, remnants of Halloween merchandise clung to the walls for fear of being tossed and scaffolding lay all over the place. Halloween was being replaced by Christmas at the hands of apathetic teenaged employees.

At first, I was annoyed that Wal-Mart would impede upon my ability to window shop as I reminisced about my younger years when Halloween was less about costumes and more about candy. Then I became frustrated.

Christmas is getting progressively earlier. Wal-Mart is stocking up on tinsel and cards. Bath and Body Works has cleared out its fall merchandise and is playing holiday music. Target and Bon-Ton have jumped on the bandwagon amongst many other merchants.

Businessmen are defaming one of the most important Christian holidays by making it increasingly more commercial. Granted, Christmas is far removed from its religious roots, but the sacredness and closeness of family that seems associated with the holiday is being compromised for the need to shop earlier, longer and better.

There used to be a time when Christmas merchandise was not put out until what retailers call “Black Friday,” which falls right after Thanksgiving. Are we going to be a generation of thirty somethings facing a Christmas season that starts in September? How is it that we can begin to think about this holiday in October and not be completely bored and frustrated with it by the time Thanksgiving rolls around?

I personally am not ready to start thinking about Christmas. I am not prepared to spend money on Christmas paraphernalia. It is not yet the time to lament about sending Christmas cards. In essence, these businessmen are rushing the last year before I leap headfirst into adulthood. They are not doing me favors by making Christmas readily available earlier.

This is only going to get progressively worse with the coming of Black Friday. When my female relatives used to quip about the holidays getting earlier, I laughed. Now I know better. You will be hard-pressed to find me in any mall until well past that time. Christmas is Dec. 25. I will not give in.

Don’t mess with Texas. No, really, they’re doing fine on their own. Only if fine indicates making obviously ignorant decisions. Have you heard about Texas’ newly adopted high school health textbook? According to an article from The Seattle Times by Terrance Stutz, new textbooks downplay and blatantly ignore two of the major hot topics in modern-day health. The Texas State Board of Education members who have adopted this text indicate that their students do not need to know about contraception techniques. Instead, the book focuses on abstinence. Abstinence, though ideal, is not necessarily the reality in Texas. The board members have failed to note one very important statistic: Texas has the highest amount of teenage births in the nation. Sex education was a large part of my high school health class. Sex ed is an awkwardly important issue to teenage students, especially with the presence of AIDS and sexually transmitted diseases that have been devastating so many worldwide. Teenage pregnancy and contraception exist. When Texan teens reach high school, are they expected to learn about contraception on their own? Young people need to learn how to be responsible for themselves and their actions. This should be addressed within the confines of the classroom, as well as at home. A major goal of education is to teach children how to better their lives and the lives of their children. Sure, this is the seemingly impossible crusade of education, but our schools should at least strive to attain this goal. Something as simple as introducing the concept of contraception could be a very important step in making difference.

If you’re not already questioning how beneficial this textbook will be to future high school students, try this on for size. The book’s definition of marriage rules out same-sex marriages by focusing solely on heterosexual marriage. Terminology that indicates alternative unions has been completely removed.

I know that many people in the United States still have an unfair prejudice against same-sex unions, but this definition is a clear reflection of Texas’ retrogressive attitudes.
The Texas State Board of Education is being deliberately impracticable. How do we expect our children to grow and thrive in our society if we are trying to shelter them from the reality of the real world? School systems can seem like a safe, homogenous little bubble, but they are not. Diversity and homosexuality exist. Schools contain children from a wide variety of different backgrounds. Some students do have two mommies or daddies. This new textbook presents students with the insinuation that these families shouldn’t and couldn’t exist. I should not neglect to mention that Stutz said “socially conservative” individuals on the board wished to incorporate suggestions that indicated homosexuals are more likely to be illegal drug abusers and commit suicide.

This tidbit, fortunately, was voted against and left out of the text.

Texas is one of the most influential states in textbook production, and it is the second-largest purchaser of schoolbooks in the nation.

Texas is also the largest state that approves books for all grade levels, and thus, textbooks approved and adopted in Texas are marketed to other states in the nation. Can you imagine having studied this book in your high school experience? I know that a lot of questions would have gone unanswered if it were the text for my health class. Closed-mindedness and ignorance are apparently the precedents that Texas wants to set for the United States. This textbook is a huge step backwards, for the Texas board of education, its schools and schools nationwide. The threat of this book entering any number of classrooms is a huge danger to our society as it stands.

I fear what changes may be next. Perhaps Texas can cut its education budget by recycling the health books our parents used, where women were educated on how be the ideal wife: Clean ceaselessly, smile, and completely neglect their potential outside of their homes. I am hoping against hope that this textbook does not foreshadow larger changes within this nation.

The following day, I took note of the turquoise ribbon campaign that started on campus.

For almost a week, I thought that our student body was moving towards an environment where people were beginning to understand the severity of what happened last semester and how it will continue to effect us throughout college and even into the “real” world.

I was quickly proven wrong. Walking though the cafeteria only a few short days later, I was disappointed, enraged and disgusted by a comment I overheard. “Sexual violence is cool,” someone said.

My mind raced as I began to question whether any of us have actually learned anything from the “Sexual Violence: Not on MY Watch!” campaign. I am embarrassed to call the unknown cafeteria voice my fellow student. That statement was inappropriate. In fact, it was downright offensive and uneducated. Sexual violence is by no means “cool.” Sexual violence is not all right. Joking about sexual violence is not all right. With respect to the tragedies our campus faced, we, both as individuals and a student body, need to realize this to move forward. Statements like these keep us stagnant and may even move us backward sometimes.

All I ask is that students think twice about why this campaign has started — and what you can do to make it a successful one.

Kelly Jennings - ‘05

There is a certain intimidation factor that plays into joining a gym. The first day, I had visions of muscle - bound, shiny looking men in spandex and tiny women with perky breasts and bleach blond hair dancing in my head. We’re talking Mattel’s BARBIE line, personified, minus all of the pink. I was horrified to even pass through the threshold of the gym, for fear that the workout world would STOP and observe my lack of fitness in shock and dismay. Oh, the anticipation.

Upon entering, I was referred to a manager. Said manager is approximately 300 pounds of overgrown fraternity boy. I am still having trouble wrapping my head around that one. What this man has demonstrated is quite peculiar…think of it this way: it’s like working in a supermarket and going hungry because you forgot to pack your lunch. Your wallet’s there, but you’re just NOT buying.

More entertainment: on the visit after my first [henceforth known as the second visit] I faced a rather interesting horror. Not ONLY was my usual cardio machine taken, but I had the pleasure of doing 15 minutes of cardio behind a woman in her mid-fifties. Innocent enough, right? Nope.

She wasn’t wearing any underwear.

I know this because I could clearly see her crack through her too-tight pants, which were made of a magical material that becomes transparent when worn. Not for nothing, but I don’t like to see the moon before dark. And I PARTICULARY don’t like to see a moon that does not dwell in the sky. It was like I was running the eternal race to nowhere, only the proverbial carrot was a much less asthetically pleasing bait. Yes, it was rather like running towards a bucket of vomit. As a patron, I propose that the gym amend it’s policy to include mandatory wearing of panties. Panty checks at the door. Or, just wear sweatpants.

Possibly my favorite thing about the gym is the parking. When I went for my trial workout, the gym gods bestowed upon me a pretty sweet parking spot. Of course they would, being that the gods can sense when a wallet enters its sweat-ridden interior. Since then, this is not so. I listened to an entire song as I quested for a parking spot, circling the same area of the front lot, hoping to not have to park ALL OF THE WAY in the back.

Now, I am navigating my 93 Ford Monstrosity around a barely there parking lot, desperately trying to turn my corners in such a way that will not disturb any of the cars to my front, rear,left, OR right. As my song came to a close, I resigned and headed to the back lot for parking. The walk to the back doors of the gym seemed to last forever, and the other questors who had circled in the front walked with as disgruntled an expression as mine.

This is the gym, friends. We were all going to work out. What’s the big deal? Can’t we park just a little bit farther??? Popular opinion: The gym should be a marriage of convenience. In fact, I’ve got a novel idea - put the parking IN the gym. I mean, the place is so damned crowded with scantily clad middle-aged women, would anyone really be able to tell the difference? At least the cars would be a pleasant distraction from the guy running next to me, who eerily keeps checking my speed. We’re not racing, buddy. And, in fact, after seeing you about-face and walk backwards …. I’m not impressed, or up to the challenge.

Close talkers just send out the wrong message. There’s nothing that can ruin a possible friendship quite like a close talker. And the message is “I think you should feel the heat of my breath every time I talk to you.”

That’s the problem with close talkers. They also don’t KNOW that they are close talkers, which accentuates the problem. You know that you have been talking to a close talker at least once in your life. Your mind goes into panic mode, you start thinking, “I need to find a place in the conversation that would allot for an ever-so-slight step away from this spot, right here.” So, when the time comes (and never quick enough) you step away in a slightly awkward “I hope he/she doesn’t notice I am deliberately stepping away” kind of manner.

But, here’s the kicker: THEY STEP TOWARDS YOU AGAIN! See, they need to close the gap. They’re not close enough to converse anymore. Of course, you continue to make moves away, but it never really goes well, and by the end of the conversation, you are about a foot and a half to the right of where the conversation commenced.

And is it just me, but don’t close talkers ALWAYS have bad breath AND spit when they talk?

Yeah, thought so.

When will these people learn??? They won’t, that’s the thing. Sometimes, they make me just wanna scream “GIVE ME MY PERSONAL SPACE” and then indicate an acceptable standing distance.

The idea here is that in the course of a casual conversation, you should not be close enough to someone to spontaneously make out.

See here’s the thing. Toothpaste is messy. I’m not even going to lie about that. It comes in a tube, which you then squeeze. There is a bit of a science to the squeezing of toothpaste. Apply too much pressure, and it’s all over your hand like some premature-dental-hygiene-related-ejaculation. Then, before you can even brush, you need to clean all of the crap off of your hand- which needs to happen with soap and water, because if you TRY to do it with toilet paper, said paper will stick to your hand, making a strange, minty papier-mâché mixture on your person.

Conversely, if you don’t apply enough pressure, the toothpaste pulls a little prairie dog action on you: in and out, before you can even get your pea-sized amount on the brush. You could play this game indefinitely if you don’t figure out the proper pressure, and perhaps even pass into getting it on your hand. ‘Nuff said.

So, let’s say you’re an old pro by now, you know just what kind of pressure to apply to your paste. Me…I’ve got to squeeze ONLY from the bottom. There is nothing more annoying to me than a large, tell-tale thumbprint in the middle of my toothpaste tube.
I came to this conclusion over the summer, when my family ran out of toothpaste & I kindly loaned mine to the cause of dental well being. My mother, the fiend that she is, wrongly pushed the toothpaste of the middle of the tube, more than once. Not only that, she is apparently an oversqueezer, and left telltale minty debris over the top of the tube!
In conclusion, I clearly need to meet someone who is like-minded, otherwise I will life a life of constant annoyance, for about 6 minutes in the bathroom each day.

I challenge you to look up anal retentive in the dictionary. I guarantee you my face will be there.

The Away Message.

The way I see it, there are more than one type of away message people leave, and everyone seems to fall into one of the following categories:

The Literalist: This person always has their full itinerary in their away message. For some reason, they find it necessary to reveal to all who have them buddy listed exactly where they will be and when. Although helpful, this can be seen as quite superfluous in the grand scheme. Usually, I don’t even care where I am.
Here, we also see the Literalist with Flair. This indicates their itinerary, but spices it up with a humorous tidbit or song lyric. Sometimes, I have to admit, this is me.

The Idle-ist: An individual who doesn’t actually remember to put up an away message, so when they leave their perpetually powered-on computer, it eventually turns to their default idle message. Sometimes, this is a personalized message, and others, it is the Infamous AIM Default: I am away from my computer right now. These people are not only boring to me, but far too busy to be signed on.

The Lyricist: This avid AIM-er uses song lyrics to cleverly express their sentiments to the most compulsive of away-message checkers. These are probably the same people who include song lyrics in their profiles, and maybe even their blogs. For instance, I have noticed a personal favorite of my emo-loving crowd on a Friday or Saturday night is: Hey Lush, have fun, it’s the weekend. Clever lyrics such as these are able to hint at the activities of the AIMer.

The Quote-ist: Within this category, we see two smaller subcategories. The Wisdomist, who will use famous words from profound individuals and force thought-provoking concepts into the head of its reader. You will see quotes from famous authors and poets, controversial people, and even political leaders. The other is the Humorist. This is the person who will insert funny thoughts from movies, comedians, and even things their friends said the night before, in hopes of scoring a laugh from his/her friends. Essentially, it is only funny half of the time.

The Randomist: People who leave things up in their away messages that you can’t even wrap your head around, and thus feel markedly stupider after having read them. This is its own category, though the intent of the author might have been for another previously listed category.

Of course, there is flexibility within these categories. I myself am a Quote-ist, Lyricist, Literalist.

Anyway, I’ve got to go now. I need to pick a new away message.

It is that tiny bag of Silica Gel.

Here’s what I wonder: is it really necessary to specify on the bag “DO NOT EAT!” Seriously? I never looked at that bag and thought to myself, “Wow, what a wonderful little while bag. It looks simply delicious, I think I shall place it in my mouth, chew upon it, and then swallow it for the mere purposes of digestion. Surely, something found inside a cardboard box which contains shoes is meant to be eaten.”

Honestly, WTF. I could see not wanting small children to eat that tiny bag, and labeling it for that purpose…but…small children who might put it in their mouth probably cannot read the admonition…

Food.

For thought, not for your tum.