April 12, 2000    Willow Glen, California  Since 1992

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    Family Daze

    Columnist's adventure wows students during career day

    By Debbie Farmer

    There is nothing I dread more than Career Day at my daughter's elementary school. It's the day where I get to put on panty hose, stand in front of a class of eight-year olds and tell them that I attended four years of college, graduated with top honors and wrote a thesis on Freud's doppelgänger theory in 20th century literature all to be a stay-at-home mom.

    I honestly don't know why they invited me, although I have a sneaky suspicion it has something to do with my weekly local newspaper column, either that or they needed someone in sweats to contrast with all of the working parents in business suits. I had almost decided not to go, but the night before, my daughter backed me into a corner, looked up at me with her innocent, blue eyes and said the six words every parent dreads to hear, "Everybody else's parents will be there."

    Now, of course, I didn't want to let my daughter down, but I also know what a room full of eight-year olds can do to a person's self respect. I would arrive self-confident, certain that the path I have chosen in life is correct and good, and within five minutes be shocked into realizing that my time would be much better spent, say, sitting on a park bench feeding stale bread to pigeons.

    So the next morning I scraped the playdoh off of my shoes and put on my good skirt just to throw everyone off my trail. I sat in the back of the classroom and watched as the other parents took turns speaking. I thought I heard one of the children yawn during the nurse's speech. This was one tough crowd.

    Oh, I suppose I could tell them I was something glamorous like a back up singer for the spice girls, but then I ran the risk of someone wanting me to sing.

    All too soon it was my turn to stand in front of the room and explain to the children what it was exactly that I did all day long. They looked at me expectantly as if it were going to be some wonderful task for the good of humanity, the betterment of mankind and all that.

    "I write funny columns for newspapers," I said. Then, for effect, I passed around a copy of my column with my picture at the top.

    They stared at me as if I had said, "I stand in a line all day putting tops on paint cans." Then the teacher broke the silence. "Does anyone have any questions?"

    I quickly thought about how I could explain to them about all of the hours I spend working on one column and about the perseverance, iron determination and dedication it takes to make a living by writing. And how it is all worth it, even when you get rejection letter after rejection letter, because life is all about learning to follow your dreams no matter what everybody else thinks.

    A little girl raised her hand. "Do you have a dog?"

    I shook my head. But they all looked so disappointed I launched into the story about the time there was a live field mouse loose in our house. Several hands shot into the air when I was done.

    However, just when I was getting all warmed up, the teacher motioned that my allotted ten minutes were over. I felt like throwing my arms out to my sides and bursting into song. And to think I hadn't even gotten to the story about the time we found the cat in the laundry hamper with a litter of new kittens.

    I'll just have to save that one for next year.


    Debbie Farmer can be contacted at familydaze@home.com.



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