This semester, I am the only guy in all of my classes. It's not necessarily a bad thing, but sometimes it's a little hard to relate to the examples my teachers will use to try to emphasize a point. Usually they'll use an example clearly aimed at all the ladies (last week a teacher made a comment regarding periods and pregnancy), but they'll backtrack and make the example relatable for me, as well (nothing was added to the period comment to make it relatable for me, though).
Today, in one of my classes, we were discussing the behaviorist theory of child development. Part of the theory is that internal feelings don't affect behaviors, which is stupid, but whatever. The teacher then said something along the lines of, "So, if you step in a puddle, you don't get your homework done, or if your boyfriend broke up with you, that doesn't affect your behavior," but she didn't backtrack. This caught me off guard. I had to reassess my life. "Wait a minute, my boyfriend just broke up with me? What's wrong with me - I'm not even upset about it. Maybe I'm not gay. Wait...I'm gay?"
Then the whole reassessment of my life started again.
"I'm gay? But I have a girlfriend about whom I care very much. So I'm not gay. But then why did I have a boyfriend?"
I must have had a look on my face suggesting I was reassessing my life, because one of the girls at my table said "Or girlfriend for you, Joe." Phew. That was a relief. Everything made sense, then, except the fact that the teacher disregarded me as a member of the class.*
*I'm not really upset about it. But still - that's kind of what happened, right? Whatevs, yo.
Showing posts with label class. Show all posts
Showing posts with label class. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Friday, April 13, 2012
Yo No Estoy Aquí (Spanishly Illiterate)
"I am not here," - that is to what the title translates. I think. I don't really know - I'm not exactly fluent in Spanish. Regardless, that is to what I want the title to translate, so that's good enough. In Spanish class, I have one goal, and that is to not be noticed. However, the professor does a really good job of making sure he calls on everybody. It's unfortunate, because I hate participating in class. I hate participating in every class, not just Spanish, but I hate participating in Spanish the most, because I don't think I've ever been sure of myself when saying something in Spanish. Except "Me gusta baloncesto," which means "Basketball is pleasing to me," or "I like basketball," (It's literal translation is "Basketball is pleasing to me," but nobody who speaks English talks like that, so "I like Basketball" is how it is translated (I'm kind of making that up because, since this deals with Spanish, I'm very unsure)). Like I said, despite my best efforts to not be noticed, I still get called on to do things. Not just by the professor, either. My attempts at going unnoticed are twofold: don't be noticed by the professor, and don't be noticed by the rest of the class. However, I'm clearly failing, because just this week we were doing an activity where a student would have to act out a verb (verbs that I did not know, so I did not participate). The student who correctly identifies the verb "gets" to go act out the next one. "Gets" is in quotes because I don't think anyone was excited to go act out verbs. Anyway, one student correctly identified two verbs. After the second one, he got to choose who would go next. Guess who he chose. Yup. This guy. I didn't even know that kid knew my name. Clearly I need to try harder to be less noticed.
I know you may be thinking, "Participation is good, Joe - you get points and your professor will like you more," and if you weren't, now you are. Oh, really? Is it still a good idea to participate if you have no idea how to participate? I mean, I know how to participate, but I have no idea how I'm participating. You know what I mean? Like, say I went to go play basketball, and when I got the ball, I punted it - I was participating, but I did not get any points and no one else liked me more. That's kind of what it's like when I participate in Spanish. I get asked a question and then stare blankly and say, "Si...?" Sometimes I don't even do that. About 1/3 of the way through the question I'll just give up. I realize that there's no way the question is going to be any easier to comprehend so I stop trying, and when it's over I just say, "I don't really know what you said." Then I feel bad because the rest of the class translates for me. Maybe that's how that one kid knew who I was - I'm just the guy who has no business getting a B in Spanish 102. Which I totally am getting, by the way. That's kind of like an illiterate guy pulling a B in English. I am Spanishly illiterate.
I know you may be thinking, "Participation is good, Joe - you get points and your professor will like you more," and if you weren't, now you are. Oh, really? Is it still a good idea to participate if you have no idea how to participate? I mean, I know how to participate, but I have no idea how I'm participating. You know what I mean? Like, say I went to go play basketball, and when I got the ball, I punted it - I was participating, but I did not get any points and no one else liked me more. That's kind of what it's like when I participate in Spanish. I get asked a question and then stare blankly and say, "Si...?" Sometimes I don't even do that. About 1/3 of the way through the question I'll just give up. I realize that there's no way the question is going to be any easier to comprehend so I stop trying, and when it's over I just say, "I don't really know what you said." Then I feel bad because the rest of the class translates for me. Maybe that's how that one kid knew who I was - I'm just the guy who has no business getting a B in Spanish 102. Which I totally am getting, by the way. That's kind of like an illiterate guy pulling a B in English. I am Spanishly illiterate.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Cancelled Class
Today is Wednesday. That means I have Bio Lab today. I woke up, showered, got dressed, etc, and went to lab. There were only three people there. Lab wasn't cancelled, but it turns out that this week is lab review week! That's weird, because I remember when my lab instructor told me the schedule for the rest of the semester I thought, "Well that's stupid. Lab review should be during the week where we don't have classes on Monday because then the people who have lab on Monday wouldn't miss lab that week." Apparently, that's what the schedule actually is and now I'm the stupid one. Oh well. That's definitely not the first time I misinterpreted something.
When I left the lab, I realized that I had two hours of time I didn't think I'd have. I immediately began planning a ton of things for me to do. I always do this when a class gets cancelled (or I misinterpret the schedule and show up when there isn't any class). I never accomplish all of the things I say I will. I usually never accomplish more than two things, actually. Usually I waste all of my unexpected free time on the internet. It's not really a big deal, though, because the things I put on my list are very mundane, like drink choco milk, look to see if I have bread, brush my teeth again. You know, that kind of stuff. Today, my list was update my iPod, change my clothes because the internet weather lied to me and said it was only 36° when, actually, it's like 50°, put my clean laundry away, eat, charge my phone, write this. So far, this is the only thing I've accomplished, and, realistically, I'll probably only tackle the "eat" part of my list and call it quits.
When I left the lab, I realized that I had two hours of time I didn't think I'd have. I immediately began planning a ton of things for me to do. I always do this when a class gets cancelled (or I misinterpret the schedule and show up when there isn't any class). I never accomplish all of the things I say I will. I usually never accomplish more than two things, actually. Usually I waste all of my unexpected free time on the internet. It's not really a big deal, though, because the things I put on my list are very mundane, like drink choco milk, look to see if I have bread, brush my teeth again. You know, that kind of stuff. Today, my list was update my iPod, change my clothes because the internet weather lied to me and said it was only 36° when, actually, it's like 50°, put my clean laundry away, eat, charge my phone, write this. So far, this is the only thing I've accomplished, and, realistically, I'll probably only tackle the "eat" part of my list and call it quits.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
A Slippery Slope, Indeed
If there's one thing I've learned whilst at college, it's that an 8:00am class in college is not the same as an 8:00am class in high school. A 9:00am class in college isn't even the same as an 8:00am class in high school. I'd go as far as to say a 10:00am class in college isn't even the same. I can't explain it, but it's 100% true.
If there are two things I've learned whilst at college, and one is that an 8:00, 9:00, or 10:00am class in college isn't the same as an 8:00am class in high school, the other is how to justify skipping a class. The morning classes are easy - "If I'm going to function properly for the rest of my classes, I should just stay in my bed and sleep; if I go to this class, I'll be too tired to focus for the rest of my day - that's more negative than skipping this morning class." That's how it starts. Skipping classes is a slippery slope, though. A slippery slope, indeed. I've never skipped an afternoon class without first skipping a morning class.
If there are two things I've learned whilst at college, and one is that an 8:00, 9:00, or 10:00am class in college isn't the same as an 8:00am class in high school, the other is how to justify skipping a class. The morning classes are easy - "If I'm going to function properly for the rest of my classes, I should just stay in my bed and sleep; if I go to this class, I'll be too tired to focus for the rest of my day - that's more negative than skipping this morning class." That's how it starts. Skipping classes is a slippery slope, though. A slippery slope, indeed. I've never skipped an afternoon class without first skipping a morning class.
There are two sides to this slope, and both of them are slippery. First, there's the short term slope. The short term slope is just one day of classes. It starts out with just the morning class being skipped. Then, maybe something else keeps you from going to your second class: "Well, I slept a little later than I planned and I didn't get to eat breakfast. If I go to this class, I won't get to eat lunch, and malnutrition isn't going to help me learn. I should stay home and have lunch." After you skip your first two classes of the day, you think, "Well, I might as well go for the clean sweep," regardless of how many classes you have that day. If you have just one more, well, that's that. You just skip it for no reason. If you have four, you just think of one more excuse: "I have a lot of laundry...I should do it now while I'm thinking about it! Otherwise I might forget." Five classes? One more excuse: "Are those clouds in the sky? Huh, they look pretty ominous... I don't want to be caught outside if it starts to storm. Maybe I'll just stay here." On the very off chance that your adviser wanted to torture you this semester and you have six classes on one day, well, I don't think you'd even have to come up with an extra excuse. "Six classes" is the only excuse you'd need.
The long term slope is for just one class, but over the course of the whole semester. Obviously, you never skip class on the first day. I personally never make it a point to skip a certain class. Like, I never think, "Psh, this class is worthless, I'll just skip it," unless I'm on the short term slope at the time and need an excuse to skip a class. Since both slopes always start with morning classes, the long term slope starts with me going to bed much too late, and when my alarm goes off I just hit it a bunch until it shuts off. I open one eye and manage to have one coherent thought: "There's no way I'm going to this class," and that's that. The next time that class comes around, of course, I remember how nice it was to skip it and sleep in. "I'll go next week," I say to myself to condone my action of skipping. This action continues for quite a while until I need to hand in homework, take a test, or anything that requires me to be there.
That class this semester is the lab for my Wellness 100 class. Wellness 100 is like a health class. It's also exactly like the health class I took my freshman year at Concordia, but those credits didn't transfer because it wasn't a lecture and a lab, it was just lecture with lab days built into the schedule. That's another justification I use for skipping it - I've already taken the class.
The long term slope is for just one class, but over the course of the whole semester. Obviously, you never skip class on the first day. I personally never make it a point to skip a certain class. Like, I never think, "Psh, this class is worthless, I'll just skip it," unless I'm on the short term slope at the time and need an excuse to skip a class. Since both slopes always start with morning classes, the long term slope starts with me going to bed much too late, and when my alarm goes off I just hit it a bunch until it shuts off. I open one eye and manage to have one coherent thought: "There's no way I'm going to this class," and that's that. The next time that class comes around, of course, I remember how nice it was to skip it and sleep in. "I'll go next week," I say to myself to condone my action of skipping. This action continues for quite a while until I need to hand in homework, take a test, or anything that requires me to be there.
That class this semester is the lab for my Wellness 100 class. Wellness 100 is like a health class. It's also exactly like the health class I took my freshman year at Concordia, but those credits didn't transfer because it wasn't a lecture and a lab, it was just lecture with lab days built into the schedule. That's another justification I use for skipping it - I've already taken the class.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Nostalgia Gland
I'd be lying if I said there was a time this school year where I didn't miss camp and all my camp friends. However, now that the school year is winding down (only 15 days of classes left, but who's counting?), I find myself practically giddy at the thought of returning to camp. I realize that reliving all of the moments that made last summer's camp so great during this summer is unrealistic, but I anticipate new great moments this summer. There are some particular events, though, that have been tickling my nostalgia gland as of late (the nostalgia gland is a very real body organ. It's located near the gall bladder and secretes nostalgialymine, which, obviously, causes nostalgia).
For instance, hiding out in the kitchen's fridge on especially hot days. This happened a lot of times, on any day of the week. During quick dip (a free time for the kids in the evening) was the most common time for me, among other counselors and staff, to venture in to the fridge. On one day in particular, there were a few of us in the fridge - Stever, Rae, Kiana, and myself, I believe - and we were hungry. It just so happened that there were also cookies in the fridge. We started eating cookies, except Rachel because she was doing some crazy thing where she cut out all sweets from her diet. A surprising amount of counselors did this during the summer, which just meant more for me, so I could dig it. Whilst eating a cookie, I remembered there was some left over frosting in the fridge, too. I found it, spread some on my cookie, and almost cried happy tears (I've never actually cried happy tears, but this is the closest I ever got). This was enough to convince Rae to make a one-time exception to her no-sweets rule, and I guarantee she does not regret it. No, really, she said that was one of her favorite moments of camp. That's how good the frosting was.
Another event is a recurring event. Before I say what it was, you have to promise not to judge me. Promise? Okay. The recurring event was lying to the campers. Not a week went by where I didn't fabricate something ridiculous, and the kids just ate it up every time. I'm not the only one who did this, by the way - it was fairly common. No big lies, though, don't worry. For example, one counselor, Kaia, and myself would tell the kids that we were married. They believed it every single time. I'm pretty sure the rest of the staff got pretty sick of this one, because we were "married" every week, and were believable enough to convince 10 year olds we were actually married. My favorite lie ever, though, was when I convinced my cabin I used to play in the NBA. Basketball is a common free time game - specifically the basketball game of "Lightning." One day, I was unbeatable. Actually, most days I was unbeatable. One day in particular, though, I was on fire (not literally) and one of my campers said something like, "Joe, you never lose!" I laughed and said, "Well I'd hope not! A former NBA player shouldn't be losing games of lightning!" His mouth dropped, but he didn't quite believe me.
"You didn't play in the NBA!"
"Yes I did."
"Oh, yeah? Who did you play for?"
"...The Milwaukee Bucks." That was the most random team I could think of.
"Really?! How long ago? I've never heard of you in the NBA before."
"Oh, yeah, ummm, let's see here. My rookie season was '96. I only played for four years, though."
"'96? How old are you?"
"30." The two-fer lie. Classic. During the conversation, I kept shooting hoops and they kept going in, making my claim a little more believable. At this point, the rest of my cabin was gathered around and listening in on the conversation, challenging my "facts." The final story was that I didn't get drafted, but signed with the Bucks. I didn't play very much (I wanted to make it believable more than anything), and that's why I retired after only four seasons. Also, I once challenged Michael Jordan to a game of PIG before a game, but he just laughed at me. I told my cabin he was scared. They totally bought it.
The last event that I'm going to write about (there are so many more, I couldn't possibly cover them all in just one post) is from the last week of camp. My "wife," Kaia, was leaving a few days early to go to some wedding or some other lame excuse. At around 10:30 on Kaia's last night at camp, after I had already declared "light's out" in my cabin, Bjorn, another counselor, knocked on my door.
"Joe," he said. "Put some clothes on and come with me."
"Wha-? Yeah, okay. Be right there." I thought something serious was going on. Bjorn had a very serious tone and an even more serious look on his face. A little panicked, I threw on some clothes real quick-like and hurried out the door. I followed Bjorn for literally about ten feet - from my cabin to the top of the lodge (the top of the lodge is the upstairs to our dining hall). We tried to open the door to the top of the lodge, but it was locked. Bjorn knocked and announced that it was he and I at the door. I heard some whispers, then running. The door burst open and Kaia flew out and landed in my arms. She wanted to say goodbye since she was leaving early the next morning. The whispers I heard were from her and Rae, who was also in the top of the lodge. As the four of us stood there talking, Linnae, the program director, walked by. "Joe," she began to interrogate, "don't you have a cabin to look after?"
"Umm, well, yes. But I mean, it's right there," I pointed to my cabin. "If anything happens, I'd be able to see it."
"Hmm, alright. Have a good night, you guys!" and she walked off.
About two minutes later, we went into the top of the lodge, totally destroying my excuse of being able to see my cabin. In the top of the lodge, all four of us were completely delirious, laughing hysterically at the slightest provocation. For about an hour, we just sat and talked. I also got a face massage, but there was talking during that, too. Eventually, Rae, Kaia, and Bjorn convinced me to go back to my cabin. By 'convinced' I mean 'forced.' That was probably a good idea, though.
For instance, hiding out in the kitchen's fridge on especially hot days. This happened a lot of times, on any day of the week. During quick dip (a free time for the kids in the evening) was the most common time for me, among other counselors and staff, to venture in to the fridge. On one day in particular, there were a few of us in the fridge - Stever, Rae, Kiana, and myself, I believe - and we were hungry. It just so happened that there were also cookies in the fridge. We started eating cookies, except Rachel because she was doing some crazy thing where she cut out all sweets from her diet. A surprising amount of counselors did this during the summer, which just meant more for me, so I could dig it. Whilst eating a cookie, I remembered there was some left over frosting in the fridge, too. I found it, spread some on my cookie, and almost cried happy tears (I've never actually cried happy tears, but this is the closest I ever got). This was enough to convince Rae to make a one-time exception to her no-sweets rule, and I guarantee she does not regret it. No, really, she said that was one of her favorite moments of camp. That's how good the frosting was.
Another event is a recurring event. Before I say what it was, you have to promise not to judge me. Promise? Okay. The recurring event was lying to the campers. Not a week went by where I didn't fabricate something ridiculous, and the kids just ate it up every time. I'm not the only one who did this, by the way - it was fairly common. No big lies, though, don't worry. For example, one counselor, Kaia, and myself would tell the kids that we were married. They believed it every single time. I'm pretty sure the rest of the staff got pretty sick of this one, because we were "married" every week, and were believable enough to convince 10 year olds we were actually married. My favorite lie ever, though, was when I convinced my cabin I used to play in the NBA. Basketball is a common free time game - specifically the basketball game of "Lightning." One day, I was unbeatable. Actually, most days I was unbeatable. One day in particular, though, I was on fire (not literally) and one of my campers said something like, "Joe, you never lose!" I laughed and said, "Well I'd hope not! A former NBA player shouldn't be losing games of lightning!" His mouth dropped, but he didn't quite believe me.
"You didn't play in the NBA!"
"Yes I did."
"Oh, yeah? Who did you play for?"
"...The Milwaukee Bucks." That was the most random team I could think of.
"Really?! How long ago? I've never heard of you in the NBA before."
"Oh, yeah, ummm, let's see here. My rookie season was '96. I only played for four years, though."
"'96? How old are you?"
"30." The two-fer lie. Classic. During the conversation, I kept shooting hoops and they kept going in, making my claim a little more believable. At this point, the rest of my cabin was gathered around and listening in on the conversation, challenging my "facts." The final story was that I didn't get drafted, but signed with the Bucks. I didn't play very much (I wanted to make it believable more than anything), and that's why I retired after only four seasons. Also, I once challenged Michael Jordan to a game of PIG before a game, but he just laughed at me. I told my cabin he was scared. They totally bought it.
The last event that I'm going to write about (there are so many more, I couldn't possibly cover them all in just one post) is from the last week of camp. My "wife," Kaia, was leaving a few days early to go to some wedding or some other lame excuse. At around 10:30 on Kaia's last night at camp, after I had already declared "light's out" in my cabin, Bjorn, another counselor, knocked on my door.
"Joe," he said. "Put some clothes on and come with me."
"Wha-? Yeah, okay. Be right there." I thought something serious was going on. Bjorn had a very serious tone and an even more serious look on his face. A little panicked, I threw on some clothes real quick-like and hurried out the door. I followed Bjorn for literally about ten feet - from my cabin to the top of the lodge (the top of the lodge is the upstairs to our dining hall). We tried to open the door to the top of the lodge, but it was locked. Bjorn knocked and announced that it was he and I at the door. I heard some whispers, then running. The door burst open and Kaia flew out and landed in my arms. She wanted to say goodbye since she was leaving early the next morning. The whispers I heard were from her and Rae, who was also in the top of the lodge. As the four of us stood there talking, Linnae, the program director, walked by. "Joe," she began to interrogate, "don't you have a cabin to look after?"
"Umm, well, yes. But I mean, it's right there," I pointed to my cabin. "If anything happens, I'd be able to see it."
"Hmm, alright. Have a good night, you guys!" and she walked off.
About two minutes later, we went into the top of the lodge, totally destroying my excuse of being able to see my cabin. In the top of the lodge, all four of us were completely delirious, laughing hysterically at the slightest provocation. For about an hour, we just sat and talked. I also got a face massage, but there was talking during that, too. Eventually, Rae, Kaia, and Bjorn convinced me to go back to my cabin. By 'convinced' I mean 'forced.' That was probably a good idea, though.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Frustrations of Spanish 102
Last semester, I took Spanish 101. I had to take it for my major, which was English at the time. Actually, I was supposed to take Spanish 202, but to get there, I had to climb the Spanish ladder. That doesn't make sense to me. If I'm majoring in English, I feel like I should have to take English classes, not Spanish classes. About a week in to last semester, though, I changed my major. That meant I had to change all of my classes. I decided to keep Spanish, though. I thought it would be fun, and it was. Since I enjoyed 101 so much, I decided to take 102. When I told my adviser that, she assumed I wanted to minor in Spanish. I don't think so, lady.
Spanish 102 started out with review from 101. I did very well and I thought, "Hey, 102 is gonna be a breeze." Then we started in 102 stuff. The first chapter was a little hard, but nothing I couldn't handle. As the semester has progressed, however, I find myself struggling more and more. The frustrating thing, though, is that the whole class is conducted in Spanish. So when I have a question, the professor answers in Spanish. Predictably, I can't understand the answer, so I still have the same question, compounded by more questions created by the answer given. Because the class is in Spanish, I have a lot of questions, too. It's just a vicious circle of confusion, except I'm the only one in the circle that gets confused. The professor also makes important announcements in Spanish. He'll say, "¡Clase! ¡Muy importante!" followed by a lot of Spanish words that I don't understand.
Spanish 102 started out with review from 101. I did very well and I thought, "Hey, 102 is gonna be a breeze." Then we started in 102 stuff. The first chapter was a little hard, but nothing I couldn't handle. As the semester has progressed, however, I find myself struggling more and more. The frustrating thing, though, is that the whole class is conducted in Spanish. So when I have a question, the professor answers in Spanish. Predictably, I can't understand the answer, so I still have the same question, compounded by more questions created by the answer given. Because the class is in Spanish, I have a lot of questions, too. It's just a vicious circle of confusion, except I'm the only one in the circle that gets confused. The professor also makes important announcements in Spanish. He'll say, "¡Clase! ¡Muy importante!" followed by a lot of Spanish words that I don't understand.
Other people seem to understand Spanish just fine. That's also frustrating. I'm definitely not used to being the worst in a class. I'm not the worst in Spanish, but I certainly would not put myself in the upper echelon of students. I know you may be thinking, "Joe, you were pretty bad at calculus. Are you sure you're not used to being the worst?" Hey, back off, guy (or lady). I wasn't the worst in calculus, either. I was pretty close, but not the worst.
I think I recently found out why I do so poorly in Spanish, though. It's not because I don't know the rules of Spanish (the rules we have covered, anyway), it's because I don't know the vocabulary. There are two words that mean "it" in Spanish - Ser and Estar. We did an exercise in class in which there was a paragraph, and we had to fill in the blanks with the correct forms of ser and estar. I didn't do very well. I know the situations in which I am supposed to use each word, but I couldn't tell what the situations were because I didn't know what the rest of the words meant. It was frustrating.
I think I recently found out why I do so poorly in Spanish, though. It's not because I don't know the rules of Spanish (the rules we have covered, anyway), it's because I don't know the vocabulary. There are two words that mean "it" in Spanish - Ser and Estar. We did an exercise in class in which there was a paragraph, and we had to fill in the blanks with the correct forms of ser and estar. I didn't do very well. I know the situations in which I am supposed to use each word, but I couldn't tell what the situations were because I didn't know what the rest of the words meant. It was frustrating.
Less frustrating is that yesterday and today, I've been totally dominating Spanish. By "totally dominating" I mean "slightly able to understand." Yesterday we had an oral exam and I could actually formulate sentences. Big whoop, yeah? Well, that's way better than I had anticipated. Today, I understood words. Total domination of the language, right? Well, not so much, but it's a start.
Thursday, March 1, 2012
RE: Lecture Hall Dreaming
I'm revisiting my post from last year in regards to big lecture halls. What's that you say? You don't remember that one, and it's not in the archives? Bummer. Maybe you can read it in an upcoming e-book or something. That, ladies and gentlemen, is what we in the writing universe call foreshadowing. I think. Maybe it's not. I'm done referencing it in this post, so I'm not sure if it's actually foreshadowing. Perhaps it's a cliffhanger. Hmm, starting out with a cliffhanger seems like a literary faux pas. Oh well. I'm starting out with a cliffhanger, and there's nothing you can do about it.
Anyway, in my original post about lecture halls, I mentioned that I sat in on about ten minutes of a class I thought was "Housekeeping 101," and that if I ever had a class in a big lecture hall I would either be super interested, pretend to be super interested and totally space out, or fall asleep. I mentioned other things, too, I'm sure, but those probably aren't important because I can't really remember them. Well, this semester I have not one, not two, not four, not five, six, or even seven classes in a big lecture hall. That's right - I have three. One of which is the class I thought was "Housekeeping 101." Turns out, it's actually Lifespan Development, and the professor starts every class with "Housekeeping," which is just a slide on the PowerPoint with announcements about the class. Regardless, my mind was completely blown the first time I saw that slide. It was kind of like a dream-come-true moment (If you've read my "Dream Come True" post, you're probably thinking I have the lamest dreams in the world).
As far as what I would do if I had a class in a big lecture hall, that second option I listed is exactly what happens. I always look like I'm really interested - I pretty much make a 1 with my left hand and then rest my chin on the thumb, with my index finger going up my cheek - but I think things like "What size shamrock shake should I get," "Do I have any more brats in the freezer," "When's the last time I had breakfast," or "I bet if I met Ricky Rubio, we'd be best friends." Just to clarify, the thought about brats - I mean bratwursts. Every time.
In retrospect, I have no idea why I so desperately wanted to have a class in a 300-person lecture hall. It's not that great. The best thing is that the professor wears a microphone, so sometimes I pretend like I'm at a concert. A really, really boring concert with an old, lackluster performer, whose songs don't rhyme and are all a cappella. As one would imagine, tickets for such a concert are not cheap.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
The Make-Out Policy
I had six classes today. Well, five classes and an online discussion. Well, four classes, one lab, and an online discussion. My lab is actually like a class, though, so five classes and an online discussion. Today was also the first Tuesday that I've had classes this semester, so for most of the classes (including the lab/class thing), we just went over the syllabus.
My first class was my Wellness lab. I left my house earlier than I normally would because I didn't know where the building in which that class was being held was located, nor did I know where the classroom in which that class was being held was located. It ended up that my initial hunch of the building was correct, and there were signs directing me to the room. So, I ended up being about ten minutes early for this class. The door was locked so I, along with several other students, waited outside the room until the professor came to unlock it. I just realized that none of this is actually important. Like, at all. I'm sorry.
The professor was introducing herself, and it turns out she's actually a graduate student, not a professor. It also turns out that she is very attractive and also teaches a yoga class. Whoa. Talk about your two-fer. Anyway, she was going over the syllabus and I was zoning out (not like that, you sicko. Get your head outta the gutter), when I heard her mention her "make-out policy." That caught my attention. I thought, "You have a make-out policy? Wait, you have a make-out policy? Wait, you have a make-out policy?" Then she mentioned a "make-out test." What did she mean by "make-out test"? Like, do we all have to make-out with each other and she just gives us grades? Or is this one of those "in my office" kind of tests? I was hoping for the latter. Alas, it turns out she was actually talking about her make-up policy and make-up tests, which made a lot more sense, but was a little disappointing, too. I think she should "make-up" a new policy. A make-out policy, perhaps.
And this is what happens when I am tired.
My first class was my Wellness lab. I left my house earlier than I normally would because I didn't know where the building in which that class was being held was located, nor did I know where the classroom in which that class was being held was located. It ended up that my initial hunch of the building was correct, and there were signs directing me to the room. So, I ended up being about ten minutes early for this class. The door was locked so I, along with several other students, waited outside the room until the professor came to unlock it. I just realized that none of this is actually important. Like, at all. I'm sorry.
The professor was introducing herself, and it turns out she's actually a graduate student, not a professor. It also turns out that she is very attractive and also teaches a yoga class. Whoa. Talk about your two-fer. Anyway, she was going over the syllabus and I was zoning out (not like that, you sicko. Get your head outta the gutter), when I heard her mention her "make-out policy." That caught my attention. I thought, "You have a make-out policy? Wait, you have a make-out policy? Wait, you have a make-out policy?" Then she mentioned a "make-out test." What did she mean by "make-out test"? Like, do we all have to make-out with each other and she just gives us grades? Or is this one of those "in my office" kind of tests? I was hoping for the latter. Alas, it turns out she was actually talking about her make-up policy and make-up tests, which made a lot more sense, but was a little disappointing, too. I think she should "make-up" a new policy. A make-out policy, perhaps.
And this is what happens when I am tired.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)