October 19, 2011
Last night was our first night of class and boy, was it a doozy. Actually, let me back up. It wasn't the first official night of class, but rather, our orientation. Felt like a water boarding session though. As soon as I arrived (first, of course--I'm an overachiever), the assistant director of the program started handing out our books. Normally, books are handed out at orientation for the entire semester. So, we were given 5 books. We have 5 6-week courses this semester, so it made sense. Not so fast. As other students started arriving, rumors started floating around about whether these were for the first semester or for the first class. Eventually, we found out, much to our dismay, these 5 textbooks were for our first class. Ugh. Not a good start. There are approximately 15 people in my program. There is a girl who introduced herself headlining that she has ADHD (and man, does she prove it in subsequent classes). Then a guy who is muy caliente, but clearly batting for the other team. Still...quite the eye candy. Next to gorgeous guy, is a lady dressed in fatigues. She is a single mom working in the Army reserves. Another lady, mid-40s?, with hair past her butt. Another woman that has got to be a 40-year old virgin. I just don't see it happening there. Then my great undergrad alums, two ladies--Andy and Keisha--who are both great friends. Then me. Next to me is a guy who wears a different shirt every week with a city or state name plastered across the front. It's like he went to a store that sold only clothes with city and state names on them and bought every one he could find. I call him City/State guy. Tonight he wore Chicago. You'll have to stick with the blogs to see what he wears next week. Next to him is a lady that I don't know very much about, mainly because she didn't say a word the whole night. She is homely and keeps her hair back in a mousy brown ponytail. Next to her is a native american lady and to round the group out is one more guy who vaguely looks like an uglier version of my deceased husband. Now that I have tediously introduced the group, that brings us around to our professor. Imagine a short and bitter Santa Claus. This guy is a piece of work. He spent a good hour telling us every tiny little thing he has accomplished in his life. The second hour was spent scaring us to death with stories of him kicking students out of the program for this or that. The third hour was telling us how difficult the program would be and that he would be surprised if any of us completed it. Just as I was about to bang my fist on the table and demand to know if he had anything positive to say, he started reading off next weeks assignments. And by reading off, I mean he literally read the syllabus to us. No explanations, instructions, just reading the assignment. At this point, I was so fed up and frustrated and defeated and (insert any negative emotion here, it will work), I just wanted to leave that class and pretend I had gone out for a drive four hours earlier and accidentally wandered into a college course taking place in bizarro world. Mercifully, the night ended at 10:15 pm and I could not have booked it out of that building fast enough. I ran home and climbed under my covers and never wanted to come out. Grad school sucked. Who wants to be a master at anything anyway? But, I'm not a quitter. I'm a glutton for punishment--a masochist. Apparently I seek out whatever is the most difficult path, and get it every time. Tune in to see how next week turns out (yes, I actually do go back!).
Daisy
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