"Five-Second Rule" not okay with school officials

ALBANY, NY—In a surprise move, State University of New York (SUNY) officials summarily denounced the Five-Second Rule as inadequate, ineffective, and blatantly negligent in a college environment.

The “Five-Second Rule” refers to the practice of picking up food dropped on the floor or ground within five seconds, thereby preserving the cleanliness of the food. Those in favor of the rule argue that bacteria and other harmful agents can not possibly stick to and/or contaminate food in such a short period of time, and most claim they have practiced this effectively since early childhood.

“Okay, let's try this again,” said SUNY Director of Culinary Arts, Jeremy Hood, to a group of stunned students. “I don't give a rat's behind what you do outside of school, but you cannot, after dropping a piece of food on the floor in your school’s kitchen, simply pick it up and resume the process of serving said piece of food.

“Just can't do it.”

“Not even if we pick it up within five seconds?” asked Shirley Jackson, a student in the culinary program.

“Not even if it hits the floor for a nanosecond and immediately bounces right back into your hand,” said Hood, shaking his head.

“Not even if we blow on it?” asked SUNY kitchen supervisor John Herald. “Sometimes I just blow on it and that seems to work.”

“No. No, blowing on it won't save you...not even if you put it in front of a fan.”

“Whoa, that's harsh. What if we shake the food real good...like this...and then wipe it on our pants?” asked Mark Spittelo, one of the program’s instructors. “That’s what I do. If no one is looking, I wipe it real good on my pants.”

“What the—” started Hood. “People, listen up. For the last time, you can not—”

“What if the students we are serving are acting all crappy,” said Jackson, “and you...you know, sorta accidentally throw their food?”

“Or they're teachers, and the students already know they're gonna get a bad grade,” piped in Herald.

“I'll fart on their food,” said Jackson.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” asked Hood, packing up his briefcase.

In a related story, Terrell Cartwright, who is also part of the SUNY Culinary Arts program, will conduct a lecture regarding recent breakthroughs in first aid. The lecture, which will take place in February at the campus in Rochester, NY, is called, “Insult to Injury: Should You Really Rub Some Dirt on It?”

First week of school

Very interesting first week of school. We've been busy with classes and preparation, but will pass along all the juicy details tomorrow, our day off.

Stay tuned.

Jenn & Den

What could go wrong?

Today, the last day before school starts again, was shaping up to be rather anticlimactic. Maybe it’s because the process no longer seems foreign to us and we think we know what to expect. Or, possibly it’s because things are supposed to get easier after the first time. After all, our first semester was filled with so many unknowns and surprises that we believe our college would be hard-pressed to throw something at us we couldn’t handle.

More likely it’s because we are naïve — the accidentally-spilling-a-full-beer-but-pretending-it-doesn’t-matter kind of naïve — and were lulled in to a false sense of intelligence.

At about 10:30 this morning, Dennis received a phone call from the head of the Telecommunications department, who is also his professor for two upcoming classes. After apologizing repeatedly, she said she called to explain a conflict with a lecture scheduled for Tuesday nights. The instructor for that class apparently has plans for three hours on those evenings. Would Dennis be available on Monday nights instead?

Telecommunications Professor: I am really sorry about this. Do you have classes on Mondays in the evening?

Dennis: No, but the Red Wings play hockey on Mondays. No, no classes.

TP: Okay, I just needed to check. I’m calling all the students to see if this will be a problem.

Dennis: It’s a huge problem. Why don’t you see if the Wings can reschedule their games instead? No, not a problem with me.

TP: This isn’t for sure, now, but if we do change the class time, I’ll call you back tonight or tomorrow.

Dennis: Tomorrow? Tomorrow? You want to move the class to tomorrow so you’ll let me know by, possibly, tomorrow? That’s fine. Just let me know.

TP: We won’t just make a change without telling you.

Dennis: You really should...it'd be funny. Okay. Thanks for the call.

TP: I really am sorry.

Dennis: I'll remind you when it's time for my grade. No problem. Talk to you soon.

Before you say that Dennis is a spineless wuss who should’ve stood up for his already established schedule (or lied with a straight face), keep in mind that the Red Wings are the ONLY reason he would not wish to accommodate, and in the big picture, Red Wings games really don’t matter that much to school officials (sad, but true).

At the same time, other than his family — and when it comes down to it, really just his wife — there is no one Dennis would rather spend a quiet evening alone with than the Detroit Red Wings hockey team…wait, that came out wrong. Anyway, you get the point.

We are waiting by the phone. Stay tuned….

Jenn & Den ask random college students...

Do you ever crave beer?



“By ‘crave’ do you mean I want beer, but I’m completely out? Is it just beer that I’m out of, or am I dying of thirst and there’s nothing at all to drink? I mean, if it’s life and death, and there’s only Tang…. When you say ‘you’ do you mean me?”







“Do I ever crave beer? Are the Kennedys gun-shy? That’s like asking if I’m in the mood for more air. Or asking Paris Hilton if she’d mind a bit of attention. That’s like asking Michael Jackson…uh, never mind. Do I ever crave beer? Why, you got some?"







“Dat’s whack! When G-Dog’s in da house and der’s beer…I swagger and swipe the cargo. Ah…uh, sorry. I can’t seem to get that song by Warcloud out of my head. Catchy. Anyway, I’m Gregory, and actually, I prefer a soft Chardonnay. Bitches.”







“It depends. When I do have a taste for beer, I lean toward a Bells Oberon Ale for its spicy, fruity balance and 6% alcohol content. Oooooh…and before they went out of business, I used to love Bad Frog Frogenpschorr Wheat before making love. Mmmmmm.”

Funny thing happened on our way home from school

Though school doesn’t actually begin until Monday, we swung by the college bookstore yesterday to grab our books and a few supplies. Afterward, we went to the cafeteria (the menu is quite extensive and the food is actually pretty good) and waited in line behind a new student who Jenn dubbed Mr. (expletive) Inquisitive.

Student: How long does it take to prepare the Paella? I understand that takes a while…is that true? And is that spicy? I can’t eat spicy food. Oh, the Beef Barley soup looks good…is that good? Are the Stuffed Mushrooms filling? I mean is that enough for a meal—

Cafeteria Worker: Okay, kid, for the sake of the other people here who, unlike you, have a rough idea of what day it is, I’m really going to have to limit you to just 20 questions.

Student: Are you serious?

Cafeteria Worker: 19....

Behind that curious young gentleman—who quickly ran out of questions and skulked off toward the vending machines—were another new student and her mother. Mom apparently eats at the cafeteria quite often (?), and argued heatedly with the food server before eventually backing down.

Mom: I remember now. My daughter always has Peppercorn Cucumber dressing on her salad at home, not here.

Cafeteria Worker: Of course she does. And I just had your car towed.

Mom: What?

Cafeteria Worker: Er, I mean…great. I’m pretty sure we’re out of Poppy Seed Cannabis, anyway.

We should mention that Daughter did not say a single word throughout the entire three-minute exchange, and appeared as if she might quietly slink off to meet Mr. (expletive) Inquisitive for a Snickers bar.

The best part of the day, however, was actually on our way home when we passed a church in our neighborhood that is inexplicably for sale…by owner.

We don’t care who you are. That’s funny.

Student With Pierced Tongue Mistaken For Retarded

ANN ARBOR, MI -- When Karen Hall, a junior at the University of Michigan, got her tongue pierced last week, it swelled up to almost four times its normal size. During the course of the rest of the week, Hall’s speech was severely impaired and professors had a difficult time understanding her.

“Oh…how sweet. We got the retarded girl,” said Mrs. Bartuzzi, Hall’s Sociology professor, who reportedly did not recognize the shy student.

When Hall pointed at her open mouth in an attempt to clear up the misunderstanding, Bartuzzi said, “That’s so sad. Look at the poor thing. I think she’s hungry…who has food?

“Comon you guys,” she said. “I’m not blind. Someone always has food in here.”

According to reports, this routine was repeated in all of Hall’s classes, with the instructors imploring, “Slow down now, honey…it will be okay,” as an exasperated Hall desperately protested and continually mumbled, “Um mot weetahded.”

While the students filed out of the buildings at the end of the week, Hall was found in a secluded hallway, reviewing her recent test scores and smiling. “Ulkay, ah em weetahded.”

Ironically, Hall is headed to Wayne State University for graduate school, where she plans to follow a path in special education…as a teacher, not a student.

Someone should write a book about this

Since starting school — and especially since launching this blog — we’ve been asked a ton of questions by current and potential students regarding why we decided to return after so long, what our ultimate goals are, how we pay for school, and how someone considering this option should move forward. We intend to answer all of the questions on this blog, and we can begin with a bit of background.

When we met in 1989, we’d both completed high school in some form [cough] — Dennis barely graduated and Jennifer dropped out, but received her GED — and Dennis had attended a community college for about a year-and-a-half, before briefly moving to New York for a job. Almost immediately after meeting, however, we got pregnant (Jenn’s an old-fashioned girl), and continuing our education was the last thing on our minds.

Fast forward, 19 years and two kids later, to this past summer when we both lost our regular jobs and were left with precious few opportunities due to limited formal schooling. We found out the hard way that having an abundance of life experiences does not automatically make a “qualified applicant,” and living in Michigan, where the only thing currently manufactured is unemployment, narrowed our options further.

To summarize our state of affairs at the time: we had no jobs and limited prospects; we had less money but the same bills; Dennis was starting to put on weight and Jenn’s mom was in town for the summer. Yikes!

You may be thinking, “So you decided to register for school?" Actually, yes. The financial aid we received covered our tuition and books, with enough left over for a refund check. We were quickly able to find suitable part-time work through our school’s job placement office and, after a rough start, we are both getting all As and Bs. Oh, and Jenn’s mom left in August.

But that’s not the point. The point is that in less than 30 days, we made the decision to go back to school, jumped through hoops to pay for it, chose our respective areas of study, stood in long lines throughout the entire testing-counseling-scheduling-registering process (it’s not as fun as it sounds), sat in even longer lines to buy books, turned our household upside down with schedule conflicts…and we’re getting ready for round two.

Actually, even more to the point, we realize that we were the “before picture” on the posters outlining the right and wrong ways to successfully become a student, and are determined to share our experiences and knowledge with the ongoing parade of returning students — including the tips, tricks, and sanity-saving secrets we wish someone would’ve shared with us.

But we’re not bitter.

You mean we can register online?

The differences between preparing for our first semester of college last August and the upcoming second semester are huge, like night and day. We'll go into much more detail about our experiences as first-timers -- including the associated feelings of apprehension & confusion, and our overall perception that we were, in fact, retarded -- but right now we prefer to dwell on the relatively easy path on which we now seem to be traveling.

You see, even though Dennis, at least, had been through all this before, it was so long ago that it shouldn't even count. Plus, we're older now and our situation is very different. The first time around, for example, average high school grades were enough for a community college to grant a student its blessing. If grades weren't up to snuff, which was very difficult considering the low standards, students were required to take a sort of entrance exam. At that time a community college was little more than an extension of high school, and the schools seemed to feel that students academically unable to gain access to their classrooms should probably be in the military anyway. Comforting, eh?

At our age, though, how we did in high school was meaningless, and we both had to take an entrance/placement exam as part of the registration process. Now keep in mind, other than task-oriented performance tests at work and whatever is required to renew a driver's license, we didn't have much experience in the area of testing, and we were both absolute wrecks days in advance. How should we prepare for the complete unknown? In his previous life, Dennis had always gotten by on hookers and chocolate (just kidding, he doesn't eat that much chocolate), but Jennifer had trouble spelling algebra, let alone solving complex equations. Scary stuff.

This semester, however, it seems as if our school is rolling out the red carpet. We get e-mails and letters encouraging us to register for classes online. (No waiting in long lines with the less fortunates? Are you kidding?) In addition, we were able to register way before the general public, unlike our first semester when many of the classes we wanted were already full. We keep pinching ourselves every day...only now it's not just part of some perverted game (kidding, sort of).

Our hope is that the rest of the term will go just as smoothly: easier workload and more time for activities unrelated to school. The reality, though, is that we are not stupid (we do, afterall, have a semester of college behind us) and are prepared for just about anything. Dennis even started stocking a healthy supply of...uh, chocolate.

Our 2nd semester is just one week away....

As we get ready for our second semester of college, we feel compelled to document our preparation and highlight some of the more significant adventures from our first semester (there were many) with the hope that we can help other adult students faced with the daunting prospect of returning to school.

We'd be totally lying if we said everything went smoothly and that the transition from normal people to students was painless. Afterall, other than parent/teacher conferences for our two kids, neither of us had been in a classroom since 1989, and if you discount various job supervisors, the only contact we've had with a figure of authority was our son Kory's parole officer (kidding).

Nope, we were slightly less comfortable than an Amish family shopping at Best Buy, and if a mistake could be made, we invariably made it. Take, for instance, the relatively simple process of transferring credits from Dennis's previous college to his new school. For those who don't know, credits apparently do not have an expiration date, and in this case all that was required to transfer them was a visit to the former school's Admissions Department...or so we thought.

Dennis went to the appropriate person and asked for an unofficial copy of his transcript to take to his advisor and an official copy to be sent to his new college. Easy enough, right? Ha. The attractive young lady behind the counter -- who obviously had not encountered a student of such advanced years -- informed Dennis in loud, slow words that, first of all, she couldn't release this important piece of paper and, second of all, she didn't know why. But, she said, the puzzle could apparently be solved in the college library. Do you see where this is headed?

The conversation in the library, among the quiet whispers of those engaged in higher learning (and table-top football) and dusty volumes of wisdom written by Dickens, Tolstoy, and Grisham, went something like this:

Dennis (cheerfully): The young lady in the Admissions Office told me to come here to find out why I can't pick up my transcript.

Library Police: Let's see...well, it says here that you have an overdue library book from...wait. This can't be right. 1989?

Dennis: Uh...oh yeah. I've been meaning to finish reading that. What book is that again?

Library Police: The Western Approach to Zen.

Dennis (smiling): Oh yeah...well, I guess I've become one with the book, heh heh.

Library Police (not smiling): Right. So you are aware, students who excel at this level tend to take their college obligations a bit more seriously.

Dennis (more than a little humbled): Of course you're right.

Library Police: This isn't Blockbuster Video. That book may have been important to other students who actually care about their future.

Dennis (tail between his legs): I, uh...er, what do I owe?

Library Police: Well, we cap the fine at $10, but unless you return the book, you must also pay the replacement cost of $22. Only then can we release your transcripts...

Dennis (slowly backing up): I see.

Library Police: ...which will then allow you to further your education and, with any luck, become a responsible citizen.

Dennis: I thought the lectures were reserved for the classrooms.

Library Police: What?

Dennis: I said I better get busy looking for that book.

Against all odds, the book was found and returned (seriously), and the head librarian -- who somehow remembered Dennis from his previous time at the school -- was so surprised to get the book back that he waived the outstanding fine. This is good because we are pretty sure financial aid would not cover this particular cost.

The bottom line is that we took many wrong turns on our path back to school, and feel that other returning students may be able to learn from our mistakes. In fact, after reading of our mishaps & adventures, your own journey will probably seem like child's play.