Eight 'Back To School' Wishes by John Thomas

Eight 'Back To School' Wishes

by John Thomas Attention important-looking interns, sunbathers, Gap sales "associates," and all other students enjoying your summer break! Your endless summer is quickly fading into a distant memory of World Cup-winning women and menacing phantoms (I still think young Anakin should have ripped off his shirt and flexed after winning the pod race). Soon you'll be loading up the ol' Ford with all your earthly possessions: your shiny new Webster's Ninth New Collegiate Dictionary, the orange lava lamp, the 6' x 6' slab of carpet, the Department of Transportation "No Parking" sign that you "found" this summer, and the WWJD paraphernalia — and head back to Lecture Heaven, back to reading something more challenging than the caption at the end of a music video. It's time to go Back to Your Future. Back to ... The University! I know, I know, you still have many unachieved goals from the summer. You were going to "really get in shape" and had hoped to lose 20 pounds! Well, with just a week or so left, shaving off three pounds a day is fairly ambitious. But it's doable. A lot of people live very fulfilled lives with only one kidney. Nevertheless, it's true that summer is just about over, but that's no reason for despair. Now is the perfect time to put the dreams of the summer behind us and think of the boundless potential that lies ahead. Naturally, I've taken the liberty of articulating these hopes you have for the coming year. With that, I humbly present ... Eight Wishes of the Returning College Student 1. No 8 a.m. classes. Clearly a right the Founding Fathers overlooked. 2. The Progressive Professor. To have a class taught by one of those "enlightened" profs who believes that grading is "judgmental" and "hazardous" to a student's "self-esteem" and what really matters is how the student subjectively "feels" about the "stimulating dialogue" taking place among members of the human species in his class. Unfortunately, you'll probably end up with that bow tie-wearing, Pulitzer Prize-winning orthodox professor who clearly doesn't realize that you're taking other classes besides his, and therefore struggle to squeeze in 100 pages of A Treatise on the Theory and Practice of Landscape Gardening Adapted to North America, with a View to the Improvement of Country Residences (a real book) each night before drifting off for your required 45 minutes of nightly shut eye. 3. To Be a Model Student. To be more like those "scholarship" students who sit front-and-center taking painstakingly detailed notes (even noting when the professor clears his throat); who turn their papers in early, looking like a Simon & Schuster publication; who ask impressive questions like, "Dr. Finkstein, do you, sir, think that the Maxwell-Loretnz equations for potentials in standard four-dimensional form are satisfied exactly?"; and who never, never, never doze off, drool, fall out of their desks and spew Mountain Dew while flinging Cool Ranch Doritos in every direction. 4. Classrooms That Share the Same Time Zone. A schedule that won't have you in back-to-back classes at opposing ends of the campus, requiring you to sprint a 5K in under 10 minutes while some 50 lb. Physical Properties of Carbon Nanotubes text (also a real book) bangs around in your backpack, hammering into the lumbar region of your spine with each painful stride. 5. A Little Peace and Tranquility. A room without that "Performance Artist" directly overhead who practices for her "Lord of the Dance" audition at 2 a.m., setting off car alarms and causing particles of ceiling flakes to pelt you in the forehead while you're having your "quiet time." 6. A Sugardaddy's Child. A roommate who won't continually "borrow" your things like shirts and make-up and research papers and boyfriends — a good, Christian roomy who respects what's yours and who offers to let you "borrow" her Beemer anytime you want to. 7. A Level-Headed Chemistry Lab Partner. One who ... a.) Won't use the Bunsen burner to light his cigar or toast his grilled cheese sandwiches. b.) Never whispers, "I thought beaker was that muppet guy." c.) Doesn't tell you to hurry up so he can "bring in the Harley" for some "spot welding." d.) Never walks into lab with a crazed look in his eyes, mumbling, "I'll betcha my food-service boss wouldn't talk to me that way if he knew I had access to this room every week!" 8. No More Forms. To avoid the challenge of getting that medical release form (stating that you and all of your next of kin have received your bubonic plague immunization) signed by a university "official," thus sparing you the adventure of searching 724 acres of campus property for days, maybe even months, without food or water, for some closet disguised as an office, only to discover a sign that reads: "Office Hours — 1:37 a.m. to 1:39 a.m., every other Sunday during first quarter moon phases each leap year. Thanks for dropping by. Tarditas et procrastinatio odiosa est!" Well, that's my list. And my guess is that you have a wish list of your own for this year. I'm sure there are more that I neglected to mention, but these are clearly the most important. So while you desperately try to squeeze in as much money saving, movie watching, international traveling, and general loafing around during your precious few remaining days, keep in mind that if this wish list comes true, the best is most definitely yet to come. And also, hang on to that kidney. It doesn't even weigh all that much anyway. The spleen, however....  by John Thomas : John has provided marriage and engagement counseling for over a decade. Whatever good advice he has is credit to Alfie, his wife of 12 years. Whatever bad advice is his alone. They live in Little Rock, Arkansas with their two children, Jake and Audrey. John is a regular contributor to Boundless. This is from : http://www.boundless.org/2005/articles/a0000323.cfm :) Follow My Blog!