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T_h,_Po_l•m_ie _• w_,._nud_a,_, M_•Y_1, 1_,,_, --------------®[yBwB©w 7 A A Mother's Day wish - Babysitter needed BY K. J. HANSON STAFF WRITER Here it is, the one day a year when Mothers everywhere, such as myself, are expected to linger in bed while our little darlings, and hopefully our spouses, attempt to show their yearlong gratitude by burning the toast, under-cooking the eggs, and serving tepid, but very strong, coffee. And, if we're very lucky, we may even receive a marigold, planted with love, in a decorated styrofoam cup. I can't think of a better way to start Mothers Day. Traditionally, most Mothers would consider their all - important day well spent, if all they were to receive was piece of mind in knowing that someone else would be willing to referee fights between siblings, change the baby, or get the entire family seated for a meal, regardless if it has those "yucky green things" floating in it. In reality, I feel that most Mothers, myself included, would admit to spending the day like this .. The back door slams shut as my three boys race outside to capture the elusive spring air that stubborn old man winter has afforded us. Anxiously, I watch as my youngest attempts to catch-up with his brothers. My thoughts turn to laundry, and other such chores I 'm forever trying to stay ahead of. Walking back into the house, I revel in the long sought after, but rarely obtained, silence. A favorite fantasy of mine begins to play out in my mind. I've just returned from the store, and upon entering the room I am not greeted with the usual "what did you get me?" Instead, I hear a chorus of "Hi Mom, how was your day?" I quickly glance around to see if I have entered the wrong house. My stunned gaze falls upon the immaculate condition of the room. Not only are there no toys or papers left on the floors, but the TV is off, and in each of my boy's hands there is a book! They were reading!! Alas, this dream is not to be, as the resounding bang of Grading the teachers BYLYNLY STAFF WRITER As the school year comes to an end, I am in the mood to reflect upon the teachers who have affected me most during this first year of higher educa- tion. While it seems inappro- priate to cast a negative light on some teachers, it is wise to bring to light the positive as- pects of other teachers. First I must admit to my- self that the teaching profes- sion is one that takes courage . and determination, therefore to criticize any of them would be an injustice to the whole profession. While naming names may set some teachers above others on the ego scale, it would in fact upset the apple cart of the teaching profession in general. I for one do not intend to un- dermine thecollege in this way. One of the most appeal- ing aspects to going to college in the first place was the idea that I would be stimulated, and challenged to reach new heights of reasoning and intel- ligence. I have been told that my ideals on higher education is a bit on the old fashioned side. That higher education is now just a translation for trade schools. I beleive that educa- tion is truly more than this, and that it must be more than / just an ideal. seem to go out of their way to encourage students to interact with them, I give them high praise. It may be as simple as allowing the student the chance to interject a thought on the lesson thus far, that breeds the encouragement that the stu- dent needs to keep an interest in school, in general. For unlike high school, the students in college are not re- quired by law to be here. If they do not show up for class it can be for a variety of reasons, all of which are directly re- flected in the adult world. However I do feel com- pelled from a student's point of view to remind the teaching staff that if they are rigid in their lecture techniques, they may have the opposite effect in the long run. A student that is bored with a class has little incentive to achieve in that class. It is the quest for knowl- edge that has led the students to college in the first place, and that should forever take prece- dence in the classrooms. The need to express thoughts while trying to grasp the text is what students hun- ger for. This hunger needs to be fed, not bogged down with a rigid lecture structure. If the subject calls for un- derstanding, and all subjects do, then great lengths must be made to insure that this goal is reached through interaction, not stagnation! the back door invades my silence. In the distance I hear shouts of "I didn't do it." "Yes you did," "Mom I not in trouble dey is." This last remark comes from my four-year-old, who obviously wishes to extricate him- self from the latest brotherly feud. In the midst of this uproar, I notice that my blonde haired seven-year-old ·now has dark brown muddy hair. His face, hands, and clothes are caked and unrecognizable. Streaming from his eyes, tears are causing the dirt to streak. Accusations of you pushed me, you threw it first, yeah but I missed, are bouncing off the walls. Each child is clamoring to get his side of the story heard first. My nine-year-old, seeing the seven-year-old is crying, be- gins to tease him. "You look like the creature from the swamp," he taunts. My seven-year-old, not one to stand still for insults, at- tempts to karate kick my nine-year-old, who is still laughing at his witty insult. Meanwhile, my four-year-old is jumping up and pulling on my arm in an attempt to be noticed. "Mamma, dey wouldn't pway wif me so's I pwayed ona hiw, he states, with an indignant mud-streaked face. My first instinct is to take the muddy one outside and spray him down with the hose. Thoughts of gagging him sound nice about now; his bellowing is beginning to grate on my last nerve. Instead, because I've recently been schooled in the fine art of parenting, I admonish the two clean culprits to go back outside, stating firmly, "we will all discuss this later." I then turn my attention back to the newly dubbed crea- ture from the swamp, who is still attempting to explain his innocence in this situation. As he drips, I escort him into the bathroom. By now he is cold, tired, and begins to rub at the dirt in his eyes. This action causes even more duress. As he steps into the bathtub, I ask him to remove his wet things. The truth is I found that I was disappointed in regards to the ideals of higher educa- tion at least half of the time. Interaction with the class is a necessary ingredient when you want to stimulate the thought process. Media shows bad taste toward McSherry Encouragement to express new thoughts as the subject begins to take shape, would seem to insure that the student achieved higher understand- ing. But that is not the prin- ciple point in some classes. For those teachers who IL BY CELESTE KASKY STAFF WRITER Recently, I read an article about the death of National League Baseball umpire John McSherry. His death occurred during open- ing day of the 1996 baseball season. He suffered a massive heart attack in front not only the thousands of fans in the stadium, but also everyone else who happened to be watch- ing the game that night. My question is, should McSherry's death have been recorded on film for everyone to see? The cameraman's first instinct should have been to drop the camera and help the poor man, not zoom in for a close-up of his distorted face taking a final breath. The media should have had enough de- cency and respect for McSherry to shut off the cameras, and stop showing re-runs on the evening news. I definitely wouldn't want my last moments on earth to be viewed by mil- lions of people. "Even my underwear, "he asks, somewhat embarrassed. · "Yes, of course," I say, as I begin wiping the mud from his face and eyes. Eventually, he is all shiny and clean. He is wearing warm clothes, wrapped in a fuzzy Afghan. He is now able to laugh at the thought of himself covered in mud. "Will you sit with me," he asks. "Sure," I say, as thoughts of what to do for dinner are pushed aside, because at this moment my son needs me. Part of the job, that which is the grand title of Mother, is being there for your children. Eventually, my other two appear at the door. Gingerly, my eldest walks over and places his hand on top of his broth- ers still-damp head. "Sorry," he whispers. "You have mud on your nose," the clean one teases, his way of accepting an apology. Soon they are all piled on top of me in the chair. As usual, they are all talking above the other, vying for my atten- tion. The youngest is the loudest as he competes for his place in the family. " I wuv you this much Mamma," he says, spreading his arms wide. Not to be outdone by their little brother, the two oldest chime in. "Well, I love you to the moon," says my seven-year- old. "Infinity," states my growing-up-too-fast nine-year-old. Now, I ask you, what more could a Mother ask for? Oh, sure, a clean house to come home to , no temper tantrums would be nice, but, right now, I can't think of anything more wonderful than the unconditional love of a child. That's what Mother's Day means to me. Dedicated to my three favorite little bandits, and a spe- cial thanks to the youngest who in taking a nap allowed me to write this. God Bless B Y D EBBIE PARKS Drive by shootings, gang- land slayings, and domestic violence are just some of the topics we see nightly on the news. Something that is often missing are the anonymous good things Americans do for each other. My sister, Laura Parks - who will be a senior at Atlanta High next fall- has the honor of representing our country in a 50 team tourna- ment in Barcelona, Spain. The Alpena News wrote a great article, which explained the large expenses surround- ing the trip. At least once a week she receives a donation in the mail and a little note saying, good luck, congratula- tions, do our country proud, or just some little salutation. We have no idea who the people are that send the do- nations. When I would call these people to inquire about where they heard about my sister's story, their responses were about the same, "we saw the article in the news and we thought it a great opportu- nity andhownicetoreadabout a student's positive accom- plishments and we would like to help". With all the negativity andhostilitythatseemstoovei- whelm us in the news, when :I talked to these people, I was proud. Proud, not only of my sister, but of my fellow Amen:- cans. Though strangers to my family, these people opted t~ show their support of my sis'- ter. This is an example of what our forefathers expected out of each and everyone of· us when they founded this country. So, as you listen to the news, know that, when it's necessary, Americans are still there for each other. God Bless America.