How To Study For Exams In 20 Easy Steps: A Mom's Perspective

This week, Snarky Son faces his first full round of high school exams.

Fortunately, his school recognizes how overwhelming the coming days will be and has gone to great lengths to help the new freshmen class prepare. The dean of students and department heads met with parents to help us understand the gravity of the situation. Individual teachers handed out exam packets weeks ago, impressing upon their classes the need to prepare in advance. Some teachers have held review sessions outside of class, giving students additional opportunities to study and ask questions. Advisors have met with students, to help them manage the inevitable stress of exams.

We moms, of course, have also swapped notes, and have come to the consensus that the recommended study techniques aren't necessarily the utilized study techniques. Here are the exam preparation steps observed Chez Wiles:

1. Clean your room. Make sure your desk is clutter-free, so you’ll have room to spread out. A clean room may also minimize distractions. 
2. Organize your study materials. Make sure you have old tests and quizzes, class notes and books. 
3. Check for text messages.
4. When Mom hollers upstairs, stop playing electric guitar. 
5. Start playing acoustic guitar. 
6. Glance over French notes. Wonder why everyone is so worried about this exam.
7. Check for text messages. Probably ought to check Facebook, too, to see if you’re missing anything. Quit Facebook when Mom catches you on Farmville.
8. See whether Lionel, the 12-pound cat, wants to be worn as a hat. Nope. Maybe he wants to go in dryer. Nope. Make note to self to try again later.
9. The bedroom is starting to feel stuffy. Time for a change of scenery. Lay on hallway rug to review vocab.
10. When Mom hollers again, tell her that you’re not just playing the guitar – you’re putting your vocab words to music. Everyone has their own study technique and this is yours. You might be a genius. Everyone should study this way. Can you think of a rhyme for “complacent”? How about “obstinate”?* 
11. Go downstairs for a snack. Notice that Mom has put out an assortment of cut fruit and vegetables. Eat one baby carrot, pour a liter-sized cup of Cheerwine, fill a mixing bowl with Tostitos Scoops and take them upstairs with you. 
12. Wait. Did the dog want to come in? Go back downstairs and check.
13. Go back upstairs, spread Physics notes and tests across the bed. This will be the Physics work area. There. That looks good. Good organization. Check text messages. Check Facebook.
14. Wow. That was tiring. A shower will re-energize you. Time to take a shower.
15. Now that you’re re-energized, your brain works better, and you remember that comfortable clothing is important to successful studying. Sadly, your favorite sweatpants aren’t clean. Time to do laundry.
16. Walk through kitchen. Someone’s hidden the Cheerwine. Consider asking Mom to go to the store for more. Look at her and notice the creases in her forehead. Reconsider. Open a two-liter bottle of 7-Up instead.
17. While the sweatpants wash, pull out your World History notes. Realize you can’t read your own writing. Wonder if Mom had a point when she said you have poor handwriting. Oh wait. If you squint your eyes just right, you can read it. See? Mom was wrong.
18. Check text messages.
19. Whew. Time to take a break. Breaks are important. You’ll know breaktime is over when Mom yells again.
20. Finally. It's time to get down to studying. Go back to step 2. Repeat steps 3 – 18. Again.

*Two of SS's actual vocabulary words.

Sigh. I can't do his studying for him. One, because I won't. Two, because he's got to learn sometime. And three, let's be honest. Advanced Conceptual Physics? Me? Shut the front door!

What I can do, as always, is make sure he's gets ample sleep and plenty to eat. And not every snack has to be a "healthy" snack. This afternoon, I made up a batch of rich, chewy Chocolate Toffee Cookies. They'll be perfect with a cold glass of milk. And may -- almost -- compensate for the fact that I'm about to confiscate his cell phone.

Chocolate Toffee Cookies
I adapted this recipe from one for Salted Chocolate Covered Caramel Cookies on the blog A Good Appetite. Note that the dough must be refrigerated for at least two hours before baking.

1 bag of good semi-sweet chocolate chips (I use Ghirardelli)
1/2 stick unsalted butter, room temperature
2 eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla
3/4 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup flour
1/4 teaspoon baking powder
1 cup Heath English Toffee Bits (found on baking aisle)
kosher salt

Melt 1 1/3 cup of chocolate chips in microwave. Stir in butter until melted.

In a medium mixing bowl, whisk together eggs and vanilla. Whisk in a spoon or two of chocolate, to temper the eggs. Gradually stir in remainder of chocolate and brown sugar. In measuring cup, stir together flour and baking powder. Then, stir flour mixture into chocolate mixture. Fold in caramel bits and remaining chocolate chips. Refrigerate at least two hours or overnight.

Preheat oven to 350. Line baking sheets with parchment paper. Scoop dough, by tablespoonfuls onto parchment, allowing ample space for spreading. Flatten cookies slightly. Sprinkle each cookie -- lightly -- with a few grains of kosher salt. Bake for 10 minutes. Let cool on cookie sheet for 5 minutes and then, move to baking racks to allow to cool completely. Makes 3 dozen cookies.

No Need To Apologize For A Southern Girl's 3-Ingredient Salsa.

Elton John once sang, “Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word.”

Suffice to say, Elton’s not a woman. Or not, at least, a Southern woman.

For us, “I’m sorry” isn’t a phrase. And it’s not an apology. It’s a reflex.

There’s nothing difficult about saying “sorry.” The word escapes our lips at nearly every opportunity. You backed into my car? I’m sorry. Your kid shoved my kid down the slide and broke his arm? I’m sorry. I'm so achey I can't walk up the stairs and I have a fever of 104? I'm sorry. My car is wrecked, my kid’s in the hospital, I have H1N1, and I can’t bring cookies to the class party? I’m sorry.

“I’m sorry” isn’t the only verbal reflex in a Southern girl’s arsenal. Far from it. We’ve also got “I’m OK” (although this paring knife cut may require stitches, but only after I’m done with the dishes), “I can do that” (even though I don’t have the time, energy or inclination to manage that school festival requiring 250 volunteers) and, my personal favorite, “bless his heart” – the well-intentioned, and dimly-concealed attempt to soften any criticism, even the most-deserved. Well he just said he was tired of being married, and up and left her and their six kids, and then, before you knew it, he moved to Mississippi with that little blonde girl who is half his age. Bless his heart.

And let’s not forget the ever-popular “What can I bring?” which is a far cry from, “Can I bring anything?” which actually would indicate a girl’s unwillingness to make a contribution. Bless her heart.

Nope. When another woman says, “Why don’t y’all come over for supper later?” the only proper verbal reflex is “What can I bring?” As if, at the drop of a cupcake tin, we all have the time and ingredients to whip up an appetizer, dessert or main dish. As if we always have a liter or two of spiced and fruited rum in the fridge, waiting to be mixed into a tasty sangria. (OK. I may be an exception on that one. Click here for my recipe. It's worth it for the space the rum takes up in the fridge.) And trust me, “what can I bring” never means how about I bring some storebought cupcakes.

That’s why I love this next recipe. You can make it in a jiffy and present it proudly anytime “What can I bring?” slips your lips.

I’m a fan of salsa. And while I enjoy the vast array of chunky “gourmet” styles with ingredients like black beans and corn and Vidalia onions, I prefer the simple, thin, zesty style served in Mexican restaurants. That’s exactly what I had a recent tailgate party in Tennessee. When I begged for the recipe, the cook was somewhat embarrassed. “It’s pretty simple,” she said. Because “it’s simple” can be another one of those verbal reflexes, I braced myself for a lengthy description of roasted tomatoes, fire-smoked peppers, etc. No need. “It’s just two ingredients,” she continued. And holy cow, she was right.

But you know, when I made it again here at home, I thought it needed a little something more – just to brighten the flavor – so I added the juice of a lime. That makes it three ingredients, but I really think it makes it better.

I’m sorry.

Restaurant Style Salsa in a Flash
1 14-ounce can Ro-Tel tomatoes
1 14-ounce can diced tomatoes (not in sauce), drained but liquid reserved
1 lime, juiced

Dump all ingredients (except reserved juice) in a medium sized mixing bowl. Use an immersion blender to quickly combine all ingredients, stopping well before the salsa becomes the consistency of sauce. Taste for thickness and seasoning, adding reserved liquid and salt as needed. Chill for an hour or two, and serve with tortilla chips. Proudly. With a lime garnish.

On The List Of Things I Won't Buy For My Kid: A Snuggie.

In the spirit of the season, Darling Daughter and Snarky Son submitted their wish lists for my consideration a few weeks ago. Since then, in the spirit of the 21st century – or, more precisely, in the spirit of a generation accustomed to cutting and pasting and clicking and inserting 10 minutes before class begins -- they’ve each made countless clarifications and embellishments.

If only they were so thorough when editing their schoolwork.

Still, the lists – in writing – are essential, because I’m the “Go-To.” When someone, anyone, everyone wants to know, “What do DD or SS want for Christmas?” they don’t ask DD or SS, they go to me. I’m the “Go-To.” I am the mother lode. More accurately, I am The Mother.

Although I always remind the kids that the Baby Jesus only got three presents, I like to have gracious plenty ideas to choose from. (Dangling participle. My bad, my blog.) Some years, the kids are stumped. (Until, of course, I remind them that I love nothing more than buying books.) This year, though, they were downright prolific. I wanted ideas, and hoo boy, I got ‘em.

DD’s list included possibilities priced from $1.97 (a toothbrush) to $997 (not a toothbrush). As an added benefit, I could actually read and was familiar with the items listed.

By contrast, the list “written” (a word I use loosely) by SS was largely hieroglyphic – even after he de-coded it. Does every other mom on the planet know what a Boss DS-2 distortion pedal is? And MacBeth Brightons? Anyone? Anyone? Nah. I’m not that lucky. MacBeths have nothing to do with The Bard.

So here we are, two weeks from Christmas, after two weeks of list fiddling, and it comes down to this. DD wants a ceiling fan. And braces. Sigh. Neither one of those will fit into a nice, neat gift box. However, she’s asked for the ceiling fan for lo these past five years. And the braces? She already knows that her Dad will be getting them for her as soon as the orthodontist flashes the green flag. What we have here is yet another example of why some people call her “The Golden Child.”

SS slimmed his list down, too. Having blown through more phones in the past year than he has fingers, SS’s top priority is a basic, no-frills flip phone. And a Snuggie. True, either one would fit in a nice, neat gift box, but I refuse to buy him another phone. And a Snuggie? Not gonna happen. There's no way I can click the "Buy Now" button. Not for him. Not for a frostbitten child. Not for a featherless penguin. Not for the cryogenically-preserved head of Ted Williams. OK. Maybe for the frostbitten child. Other than that, not gonna do it.

Not that I’m not flexible. I’m plenty flexible. OK. Maybe not that flexible. But I’m bendy enough. Take this tomato basil soup recipe.

I came up with the recipe for Cougar Bait (I know, he’s only 23 days younger than me, but he likes to believe ...), who’s something of a connoisseur of Tomato Basil Soup. But at the last minute, I remembered I had some ground turkey in the fridge. Just like that, a totally vegetarian dish became not-so-much.

Just a little cutting and pasting and clicking and inserting and voila – I had a very nearly vegetarian Tomato Basil Soup – with meatballs.

Almost Vegetarian Tomato Basil Soup – With Meatballs
Despite the ingredient list, the soup comes together pretty quickly -- and it's very good without the meatballs, as well.

Meatballs
1 minced garlic clove
1 pound ground meat (turkey, beef or pork)
1 egg, lightly beaten
2 tablespoons dried breadcrumbs
1 teaspoon dried basil
2 tablespoons minced parsley
½ teaspoon kosher salt
fresh ground pepper

Soup
1 large onion, chopped
2 dozen baby carrots, chopped
1 rib celery, chopped
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
1 28-ounce can crushed tomatoes
1 quart vegetable broth
1 bay leaf
red pepper flakes
½ teaspoon kosher salt
fresh ground black pepper
½ cup fresh basil, sliced very, very thinly (chiffonade)

First, make the meatballs. Preheat oven at 350. In a large mixing bowl, gently mix all meatball ingredients. Try not to “pack” the meat. Form into ¾ inch meatballs. Place on an ungreased baking sheet and bake for 10 minutes. Remove and let cool.

Make the soup. In a very large skillet or soup kettle, saute the onion, carrot and celery in the olive oil until the onion is very translucent and the carrots and celery are slightly browned. Stir in the tomatoes and vegetable broth. Stir well, and add the bay leaf, a sprinkle of red pepper and salt and pepper. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer for 30 minutes. Remove bay leaf, and carefully, carefully, use a handheld immersion blender to smooth out the soup. (Alternately, allow soup to cool, and then, puree in a blender until smooth. Then reheat.) Taste and adjust seasoning (particularly for salt). Stir in basil and meatballs. Simmer another 10 minutes and serve hot.