It is 7:00 in the morning and I am up after a fairly good night’s rest. I’m a little surprised that I slept so well after the weird day I had yesterday. Here is how my first day at College Summit went down:
3:15 – Arrival. I got a little lost, but that’s probably because I didn’t read the info they sent me.
3:45 – Registration and Dorm Check-In. Registration was a rather quick and easy process. I finally got the meet DeMarcus, the 20-year old I have been aggravating for the last 2 days, again because I failed to read the info they sent me. Also meet Jolande, who will be my mentor and guide during my journey here.
3:48 – Room Inspection. I was mortified when I saw my room. Trash can full, paper on the floor, a towel under the bed. It looked as if my room had been recently inhabited. I marched back out and to discuss this atrocity with DeMarcus. I was trying so hard to be polite; I didn’t want to be labeled to bourgeoisie problem child so early in the process. He said they would call housekeeping to clean the room for me. I looked in the bathroom and was terrified. I tried to remember back to my first year in college; moving into my dorm room the first time was exciting! Was USC this bad? I was in the Honeycomb towers my first semester, so it couldn’t have been much better. What has happened to make what used to be exciting into repulsion? I guess the 36 year old Teowonna isn’t as easy to please as the 18 year old Teowonna… (hear that, men!)
3:50 – Met a lady from Columbia. She was spraying her room down with Lysol. She’s an American Red Cross volunteer and says she goes nowhere without everything she needs to fumigate her room. So, all I had to do was follow the big mushroom cloud billowing into hall to find out where she was. KB laughed at me when she came and saw my nasty room. Thanks KB. I really appreciate your sympathy. That’s when I first discovered there is no ice. No TV. No CNN. No nothing.
4:00 – No housekeeping.
4:15 – No housekeeping. I refused to set my room up. Something about me just won’t let me put my clean sheets on that bed.
4:30 – Writing Coach Training. The rest of the group and I trekked down to a classroom for our training. Our Writing Coach Coordinator, Jolande, has done this for 3 summers for a total of 10 different sessions. She must not have come to Presby College the first time, because this is enough to run someone away forever. There are 8 of us here. An interesting cast of characters. There’s Robert, the gay teacher; Kathy, the former politician’s daughter; Sylvie, a high school college counselor; Amy, a software company training instructor; Shalanda, a chaperone and English teacher; KB, a full-time PhD student; and Melissa (I’m almost afraid to say her name because her disposition, let’s say, is a little less than sunny). I don’t know what she does. Too afraid to ask again.
7:00 – Dinner. After eating all my snacks, KB and I started to get a little hungry and very thirsty. When they brought our food in, she said “I hope it tastes better than it smells.” No such luck; the food was barely palatable. What happened to the good food they used to cook on college campuses? Was the food at USC this bad or was I young with an unrefined palate? Please, help me understand what is going on here!
8:30 – Group Meeting. All the staff members met, introduced ourselves and discussed what to expect. We did a team building exercised that really gave me some insight on myself. That was cool.
9:30 – The bomb dropped. We have to switch dorms. Because of the number of students that came unexpectedly, we have to move from Barron to Grotnes. On the third floor. And there is NO elevator. Ok… this is getting more and more precarious. When I walked into Grotnes with my bag in tow, I am assaulted by scores of screaming and squealing 7, 8 and 9 year old. They are here for a basketball camp. Why does a baby need basketball camp? Is that really necessary or is this just a way to get parents’ money in hopes of honing a basketball star? Or a way for parents to get some peace and quiet during the summer. Probably the latter. I did note there were no little black girls running through the halls, all giddy to be in a ‘real college dorm’. I wondered why that was?
So, I got my 50 lb bag and lugged it up 3 flights of stairs to my new but cleaner room.
10:30 – Trip off-campus. Against rules, KB, Shalanda and I went to the Bi-Lo to get something to clean our rooms and get some real food. We ordered personal pizza’s from Pizza Hut and got a few necessities from Bi-Lo.
11:45 – Time to relax. I finally ate, got my room squared away and ready for a shower. I turned the shower on and waited for the stream to heat up. The hot water never came. A few more minutes, warmer, then colder. Finally, I decided to just get on in and do what had to be done. (The one thing I knew could make the day seem just a little better was a hot relaxing shower… and I was robbed of that too!) Strangely enough, the longer I stayed in the shower, the warmer the water felt. That gave me hope. Perhaps that longer I endure this foolishness in the name of higher education and volunteerism, the better it will get! I drank a glass of the Cabernet that I snuck in my bag and went to bed. Let’s see what tomorrow will bring.
12:10 – Nights out.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Ode to South Carolina Student Loan Corporation
As I write out this check to the South Carolina Student Loan Corp, I couldn’t help but wonder all the things I could do if I didn’t make my student loan payments.
Get the oil changed in my car ($125), Get my hair done by a real beautician ($65), Get some cosmetic dentistry ($250), Pay my credit card bills (too much to even think about writing down), Pay Tee Dee to come clean my house, ($75), Replace the broken glass in my sliding glass door ($75), Go grocery shopping ($55), Take Chi Chi to the vet, ($125), Take Chester to the vet ($125), Go to Mint Julep’s for a few drinks and appetizers, ($35), Go play golf ($35).
Although begrudgedly, I write out the monthly payment anyway, because if I didn’t have the student loans, I would probably:
Be hunting a ride to go renew my bus pass, Be rocking a bright red weave that my cousin ‘them did, Be taking my gold tooth out to brush my teeth, Not even care about the credit card bills, Wouldn’t care if the house was junky, Hang a sheet over the sliding glass door, Be going grocery shopping with my EBT card, Be taking my children Chi Chi and Chester to the health department, Be going the Mr. Brown’s Seafood for some fish, Be hanging out at the ball court.
Not to mention: Be dumb, Be unemployed, and Knocked up right now.
God Bless the South Carolina Student Loan Corporation.
Get the oil changed in my car ($125), Get my hair done by a real beautician ($65), Get some cosmetic dentistry ($250), Pay my credit card bills (too much to even think about writing down), Pay Tee Dee to come clean my house, ($75), Replace the broken glass in my sliding glass door ($75), Go grocery shopping ($55), Take Chi Chi to the vet, ($125), Take Chester to the vet ($125), Go to Mint Julep’s for a few drinks and appetizers, ($35), Go play golf ($35).
Although begrudgedly, I write out the monthly payment anyway, because if I didn’t have the student loans, I would probably:
Be hunting a ride to go renew my bus pass, Be rocking a bright red weave that my cousin ‘them did, Be taking my gold tooth out to brush my teeth, Not even care about the credit card bills, Wouldn’t care if the house was junky, Hang a sheet over the sliding glass door, Be going grocery shopping with my EBT card, Be taking my children Chi Chi and Chester to the health department, Be going the Mr. Brown’s Seafood for some fish, Be hanging out at the ball court.
Not to mention: Be dumb, Be unemployed, and Knocked up right now.
God Bless the South Carolina Student Loan Corporation.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Fourth of July: Reflecting Upon Our Lost Freedom
The Fourth of July is a holiday that Americans celebrate annually to commemorate the adoption of the Declaration of Independence on July 4, 1776. The Declaration of Independence declared America’s freedom from the Kingdom of Great Britain.
As Americans, we often celebrate our freedom with fireworks, parades, barbecues, festivals, carnivals, picnics, concerts, baseball games, and other displays of jubilation.
As you celebrate America’s freedom this weekend, I want you to consider a particular freedom that we have lost… the freedom of just being free!
In my Toastmasters meeting today, my friend gave a speech that captured my attention and engaged my imagination as I thought back to my childhood. The poem read:
I remember summer days of running like the wind, and flying like a kite, and hopping like a frog after swimming like a fish.
I remember summer days of dancing like a butterfly, and laughing like a hyena, and hooting like an owl after stretching like a snake.
I remember summer days of rising like the sun, and glowing like the moon, and twinkling like the stars after sleeping like cat.
Do you remember those days? If you are older than 30 years old, I’d bet that you do.
I remember waking up very early in the morning, getting my chores out of the way as soon as possible so I could ‘hit the streets’. And by streets, I mean dirt road. And by dirt road, I mean Sweet Bay Road.
I would meet my cousins, Quette and Tisha, and we’d follow the green pastures wherever they led us. It was common for us not to see the face of an adult until we came back home, just in time for dinner, around six or seven o’clock in the evening.
Quette, Tisha, and I would find all kinds of mischief to get into: like going to the watermelon patch and busting open one watermelon after another, eating the sweet refreshing flesh with our hands, until our bellies could hold no more.
I remember traipsing through the green pastures mile after mile, in search of wild blackberries to make ‘wine’. Our cherished recipe consisted of smashed berries, water, sugar, and any remaining liquor we found in my granddaddy’s old discarded liquor bottles. We were ‘worldly’ enough to know that all good wine has to age. So we hid it for 30 whole minutes before we drank it heartily.
I can’t forget the time we decided to have a neighborhood clean up and walked the dusty dirty Sweet Bay Road picking up cans to sell the Peg Leg Cholley (Charlie). When Peg Leg Cholley drove down Sweet Bay Road in his beat-up station wagon, we flagged him down and ‘sold’ him our cans. We got just enough change for each of us to buy a soda. Just think: a whole day’s work for a Yoo-Hoo. The reward far outweighed the sacrifice.
How do children today spend their summers? They sit in the house all day playing video games instead of outside playing marbles or hopscotch. They wake up to go to the mall instead of waking up to do chores like hanging the laundry on the line or raking leaves from the yard. The chat and text, instead of yelling “Red rover, red rover, send Monkey right over.” They use their imaginations to figure out how to keep their parents from finding out their innocent texting is actually sexting; instead of using their imaginations to figure out how to get those wild grapes that are dangling from the top of that tree.
I said all that to say this: even though on the Fourth of July we are celebrating our freedom, there is one freedom that we no longer have: the freedom of just being free. The freedom of running like the wind, dancing like a butterfly, and twinkling like the stars.
No child today can go a whole day without hearing from his mother by phone or text. And no parent would dare allow hours to pass without knowing exactly where his child was.
There aren’t too many people today who can just get away for a few hours, just to chase butterflies with no other purpose in mind but to see where they are going. We are inundated with cell phones, texting, email, blogs, facebook, politics, and every other modern technology that makes complete anonymity impossible.
That’s pretty sad. Especially sad for the children. They will never know what real freedom is!
As Americans, we often celebrate our freedom with fireworks, parades, barbecues, festivals, carnivals, picnics, concerts, baseball games, and other displays of jubilation.
As you celebrate America’s freedom this weekend, I want you to consider a particular freedom that we have lost… the freedom of just being free!
In my Toastmasters meeting today, my friend gave a speech that captured my attention and engaged my imagination as I thought back to my childhood. The poem read:
I remember summer days of running like the wind, and flying like a kite, and hopping like a frog after swimming like a fish.
I remember summer days of dancing like a butterfly, and laughing like a hyena, and hooting like an owl after stretching like a snake.
I remember summer days of rising like the sun, and glowing like the moon, and twinkling like the stars after sleeping like cat.
Do you remember those days? If you are older than 30 years old, I’d bet that you do.
I remember waking up very early in the morning, getting my chores out of the way as soon as possible so I could ‘hit the streets’. And by streets, I mean dirt road. And by dirt road, I mean Sweet Bay Road.
I would meet my cousins, Quette and Tisha, and we’d follow the green pastures wherever they led us. It was common for us not to see the face of an adult until we came back home, just in time for dinner, around six or seven o’clock in the evening.
Quette, Tisha, and I would find all kinds of mischief to get into: like going to the watermelon patch and busting open one watermelon after another, eating the sweet refreshing flesh with our hands, until our bellies could hold no more.
I remember traipsing through the green pastures mile after mile, in search of wild blackberries to make ‘wine’. Our cherished recipe consisted of smashed berries, water, sugar, and any remaining liquor we found in my granddaddy’s old discarded liquor bottles. We were ‘worldly’ enough to know that all good wine has to age. So we hid it for 30 whole minutes before we drank it heartily.
I can’t forget the time we decided to have a neighborhood clean up and walked the dusty dirty Sweet Bay Road picking up cans to sell the Peg Leg Cholley (Charlie). When Peg Leg Cholley drove down Sweet Bay Road in his beat-up station wagon, we flagged him down and ‘sold’ him our cans. We got just enough change for each of us to buy a soda. Just think: a whole day’s work for a Yoo-Hoo. The reward far outweighed the sacrifice.
How do children today spend their summers? They sit in the house all day playing video games instead of outside playing marbles or hopscotch. They wake up to go to the mall instead of waking up to do chores like hanging the laundry on the line or raking leaves from the yard. The chat and text, instead of yelling “Red rover, red rover, send Monkey right over.” They use their imaginations to figure out how to keep their parents from finding out their innocent texting is actually sexting; instead of using their imaginations to figure out how to get those wild grapes that are dangling from the top of that tree.
I said all that to say this: even though on the Fourth of July we are celebrating our freedom, there is one freedom that we no longer have: the freedom of just being free. The freedom of running like the wind, dancing like a butterfly, and twinkling like the stars.
No child today can go a whole day without hearing from his mother by phone or text. And no parent would dare allow hours to pass without knowing exactly where his child was.
There aren’t too many people today who can just get away for a few hours, just to chase butterflies with no other purpose in mind but to see where they are going. We are inundated with cell phones, texting, email, blogs, facebook, politics, and every other modern technology that makes complete anonymity impossible.
That’s pretty sad. Especially sad for the children. They will never know what real freedom is!
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