Friday, April 19, 2013

A Plea

Dear Schoolwork,

Please just go away.

I know we only have two more weeks together, but those are exactly 14 days longer than I can tolerate.

I've been a fantastic student all year.  Hours and hours every day locked in the basement with an egg timer and a stack of books.  We've had some good times together, but it's time for you to leave.




Anatomy class, you can stick around if you like.  You were easy and fun and interesting.  Let's hang out in college okay?

Oh geometry.  Geometry.  Why do you hate me so?  Why are you necessary?  I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I will never be a civil engineer.  Why doth the government require me to take you?  Your proofs and your transformations and your evil habit of bringing back algebra I never really learned.   We are never ever getting back together.

Chemistry, you aren't that bad.  What a pleasant surprise.  Your evil twin, College Chemistry, lurks in the shadows, but for now Chemistry, you are tolerable.  But your little sister, Chem Lab, makes me write alllll these lab reports, and they are stacking up and growling at me.  Why do they hate me so?

College Prep Writing.  Our relationship has been rocky.  Moments of triumph and moments of despair.  I've learned a lot about my skills and my interests and about what writing really truly IS.  But I wrote your seven page research paper already.  It's time for you to go off and chat with Poe or something.  Leave me alone?  Please?



Your little senior,
Eliza



Friday, April 12, 2013

How to Remember

Yesterday, I got a mini miracle, and I want to remember it.



It had rained for the third day in a row and it was cold outside.  Looks like another tennis game was about to be cancelled, and that we were headed for another tough practice in the gym.

I had a major case of senior-itis, and was "repulsed by the very touch" of schoolwork.  I was being Oscar the Grouch.  I really wanted to watch this cool Jodie Foster movie called "Nell" about a lady who's so isolated for years that she makes up her own language (she's something of a wild woman).  I wanted to watch it with Mom.

Mom and I settle down for Nell, and she gets a phone call.  The phone call takes way longer than she estimated, and now we can't watch the movie and I have to leave for tennis.  And I fall apart.

She's braiding my hair and apologizing for my Nell-lessness, and I just go into attack mode.  She tells me something she's excited about and I'm like "you'll just change your mind again.  You keep doing that."  And Mom starts to cry.

So now I'm grumpy and pouting and unhappy with the world and I've made Mom cry.  Yippee.
As a last ditch effort, I grab Mom's hands and say "let's pray."

"Dear God," I whine, "I really don't want to play a game today because it's so cold outside, and last gym practice we ran so much my lungs hurt bad."  (I start to cry) "And I didn't mean to make Mom feel bad.  Please make her stop feeling bad."



I go to grab my stuff, and Mom goes to call Mr. Carr and check on his current plans.

And you know what?

Mr. Carr had cancelled both the practice AND the game.  "I think another gym practice would be too hard on the girls," he said over the phone.

And then Mom and I sat down to watch Nell.


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That little mini-miracle meant a lot to me.  And I'm blogging about it to remember it.
Nothing like that is worth getting bummed over.
God seriously cares.  He won't leave you hangin'.