Pa regains his composure and reports:
Perhaps when my dear roommate Mary scanned the classroom and failed to notice me sitting in the fourth row I should have let her sit in the back row by herself. True, both of us are independently predisposed to be look-diseasers and back-row-snickerers when left to our own devices, but when we joined forces and sat together (I don’t know how she didn’t see me, anyway- how much more conspicuous do I and my polka-dot purse have to be?!) the disruptive nature of our participation was set in stone.
Without naming names (ridiculous names, I might add) Mary and I were quick to pinpoint the standouts and predict the way the class would progress from now until December. Though we will undoubtedly be pleased when we are inevitably proved right, the actual events are going to be dull and possibly painful. I’m afraid that the best I can hope for is “droll.” The worst part is that we are quite certain that fifteen weeks with our enthusiastic (blond Juliette Lewis doppelganger) professor and her Tips for the Classroom* will not make us feel any better about our future possible professions.
I can’t stop laughing. At inappropriate times. At appropriate times, too, but the inappropriate times are the ones people remember and frown at you for. How could I possibly refrain from laughing at the girl whose laugh sounds like a garbage truck? Or the boy who suggested that our professor’s short fingernails indicate true dedication and a strong work ethic? Or the gentleman who awkwardly shouted out “terrorist!” when a nice young man was introducing himself to the class?
I went to the grocery store and paid for my own food today. It was disconcerting. At Meijer I had far too many choices of which foods to buy and I missed the convenience of the toy-slash-gun aisle at the Stauqpak. Plus there was no BASC grocery card to use at the checkout lane…!
For the record, my insane desire to run screaming from the College of Education and just graduate with whatever hodge-podge degree I can scrape up is not limited to me- at least two of my friends who did not spend a delightful summer in the Land of the Midnight Sun are experiencing the same symptoms. We have only until Friday to change our schedules, though, and then the panic of the start-of-semester will subside. It always does.
Science report: still entering ten weeks of numbers into endless spreadsheets.
* Children love candy! You can call on kids at random if you have a stack of notecards with their names on them! Write with different colors! Don’t get married when you’re eighteen!
Without naming names (ridiculous names, I might add) Mary and I were quick to pinpoint the standouts and predict the way the class would progress from now until December. Though we will undoubtedly be pleased when we are inevitably proved right, the actual events are going to be dull and possibly painful. I’m afraid that the best I can hope for is “droll.” The worst part is that we are quite certain that fifteen weeks with our enthusiastic (blond Juliette Lewis doppelganger) professor and her Tips for the Classroom* will not make us feel any better about our future possible professions.
I can’t stop laughing. At inappropriate times. At appropriate times, too, but the inappropriate times are the ones people remember and frown at you for. How could I possibly refrain from laughing at the girl whose laugh sounds like a garbage truck? Or the boy who suggested that our professor’s short fingernails indicate true dedication and a strong work ethic? Or the gentleman who awkwardly shouted out “terrorist!” when a nice young man was introducing himself to the class?
I went to the grocery store and paid for my own food today. It was disconcerting. At Meijer I had far too many choices of which foods to buy and I missed the convenience of the toy-slash-gun aisle at the Stauqpak. Plus there was no BASC grocery card to use at the checkout lane…!
For the record, my insane desire to run screaming from the College of Education and just graduate with whatever hodge-podge degree I can scrape up is not limited to me- at least two of my friends who did not spend a delightful summer in the Land of the Midnight Sun are experiencing the same symptoms. We have only until Friday to change our schedules, though, and then the panic of the start-of-semester will subside. It always does.
Science report: still entering ten weeks of numbers into endless spreadsheets.
* Children love candy! You can call on kids at random if you have a stack of notecards with their names on them! Write with different colors! Don’t get married when you’re eighteen!