Again

Day 0: I've been anticipating returning to school this fall for several reasons, not the least of which is my enrollment in classes that are congruent with and relevant to my degree. Of the four classes I've enrolled in, three are political science courses. The fourth is a course on modern European history which is a pleasant contrast to last Spring where I was enrolled in Stats, Spanish 2, English Lit, and American Politics.

I feel that, despite the break between then and now, summer classes have sapped something vital from me that I have yet to recover. It may just be nervousness. It's likely just nervousness.

I'm nervous. There. I've said it.

Unlike last Spring, however, I'm coming into this semester with a few consecutive months of success behind me. I'm going to try and approach this semester a bit more... forcefully, than I did this past Spring.

We'll see what happens.

Day 1-3: I showed up extra early and headed straight to the library to print my schedule, secretly hoping that I might run into my library crush (LC). I lingered a few minutes after the schedule came out of the printer, scanning the virtually empty library for signs of him but no dice. "Likely his schedule is different this semester," I thought. "Likely I'll never see him again." I headed to class a little disappointed.

My first class is in a building that didn't exist when I first attempted my undergrad. The campus is lousy with such features but I've only noticed them at a distance, a stranger at a party that I had no intention of engaging. The first day, the new building was finally realized and made relevant. It looked new. It smelled new. And all the kids within it were new.

The professor was slender and bookish with slight hands and wire-framed glasses. He dealt almost exclusively in abstractions without bothering to prop them against simile and metaphor. I liked him immediately.

The schedule of classes has changed this semester, allowing for 15 minute intervals between classes instead of 10. Instead of running from classes to class and dumping sweating heaving self into the last available seat just in the nick of time, I found I was able to walk to class - stroll, even - with plenty of time to find a seat.

Those extra five minutes made the first week a breeze, in terms of getting class to class.  And I'm betting that those extra five minutes are going to come in handy once the weather turns.

This morning, as I was leaving one of my classes, I turned on my cell phone. Climbing the stairs toward the exit, I wasn't paying attention and ran into someone. "Sorry," I said. The victim turned around and offered half a smile.

IT WAS LIBRARY CRUSH (LC)!

"S'ok," he said, and continued up the stairs.

"Ok," I said. "Well..." and then trailed off. If he heard me, he showed no sign.

We exited the building and he, unsurprisingly, made his way toward the library. I lost him in the confusion of students and had to resist the urge to head to the library to track him down again. Heading to my next class, doubt began to creep in.

Maybe it wasn't him. Maybe he was just there for the day. Maybe...

...and then it occurred to me. He was climbing the stairs with me because he was leaving my class.

LIBRARY CRUSH (LC) IS IN MY CLASS!

I HAVE A CLASS WITH LIBRARY CRUSH (LC)!

Well played, Fall semester 2013. You and I may very well get along just fine after all.

The Rest: Summer Course Overload

Note: I posted almost nothing about my summer course work and with good reason - I was spectacularly busy. 75% of my time was dedicated to studying, homework, and writing papers. It was, by far, the most intense and challenging educational experience of my life. 

In spite of that, I didn't want to leave my summer classes without having said a few words about the experience. That said, I've decided to share with you the little I was about to write about my classes as they happened. What follows is a string of Facebook status updates in chronological order (albeit undated) written by me. I've intentionally left out the dates and times unless they were explicitly included in the original status update.

I decided to do this to simultaneously simulate and preserve the hectic, rapid-fire, stuck-out-of-time feeling that comes along with having completed 30 weeks worth of course material in 6 weeks. 

Also it's way easier than trying to go back and reconstruct a thoughtful cohesive narrative. 

In doing so, I realize that I may have rendered most of this post "unreadable". For that, I am sorry. Also about 30% of the posts were written in Spanish. For that, I am not sorry. (***SPOILER!!***: I got an A in both courses)

Fall courses have already begun but we'll get to that later. For now, I give you "What I Did Over Summer Vacation 2013" which can alternately be titled "La Experiencia Terrible". 

Heads Up: There will be no summary of these posts. After they've finished, I will simply state my average, drop the mic, and walk away.

Enjoy.

* * * * *

Day 1: "Intensive" doesn't even begin to cover it. 

I reached the point of "what have I gotten myself into?" when I saw the syllabus. Each day is equivalent to a week of class in a normal semester

For example, today, we covered Spanish 2 in 4.5 hours. ALL of it. And tomorrow morning we have a quiz on Spanish 2. ALL if it. 

By this time next week, I will have taken 5 quizzes and be studying for my midterm exam. Three weeks from now, I will have taken 8 quizzes, 3 oral exams, a midterm, a final, a group project, and two papers.

And then it'll be time for Spanish 4.

Pero no estoy preocupado. Ven a mí, clase de español! Estoy listo!

...

...al menos ...espero que sí.

* * * * *

Day 2: Lots of stuff. Had a quiz. Many much studying. Got 60+ new vocab words today. Quiz tomorrow morning. 

I'm no longer sure that this is a possible thing.

* * * * *

First week of summer courses is done. I planned on homeworking tonight but to hell with that. 

Beer anyone?

* * * * *

Summer Coursework - Day 5: A week ago, I began Spanish 3.

Class starts at 8 AM and runs for 4.5 hours. I'd say 4.5 hours straight but we get a ten minute break at the two hour mark. Each day starts with a quiz on the material from the previous day. We took our fifth quiz today. Midterms are Wednesday. 

Things. Move. VERY. Quickly. 

Missing an hour of a summer session class is the equivalent to missing a day's worth of class in a normal semester. And yet, there are kids in my class who have shown up late, left early, and one who, just plain doesn't do homework even though it's an easy 15% of our grade. It doesn't have to be correct, it just has to be done. You could write just about anything and get 100% credit. Still... *shrug*

Class began a week ago and Midterms are this Wednesday. Finals are next week. I'm enduring all of this with the unblinking courage of a robot gorilla.

Class began a week ago and we're already more than 1/3 of the way through the course material.

Class began a week ago and my teacher still calls my "Strew". I know because that's how she spells it as well.

I'd correct her but it sounds adorable.

Class began a week ago and I'm a lot more confident since then. I can't wait for midterms. I may just end up with an "A" in this course. Until the final bell, however, I have a lot more work to do.

The holiday makes this into a 3-day school week. 'Tough' just got 'tougher'.

*opens lunchables* Bring it, Spanish.

Estoy listo.

* * * * *

The Halfway Point

* * * * *

Summer Coursework - Day 10: Two weeks ago, I began Spanish 3.

Class starts at 8 AM and runs for 4.5 hours. I'd say 4.5 hours straight but we get a ten minute break at the two hour mark. Each day starts with a quiz on the material from the previous day.

We took our 7th quiz today. Our 8th and final quiz is tomorrow morning.

Finals are Thursday.

Si puedes leer esto, tu sabes que estoy listo. Pronto veremos, ¿no?

* * * * *

Spanish III: Completed

Today I had the written and oral final exam in Spanish III. I feel ok about it. Mostly. I still feel like class just started a few weeks ago. Probably because class just started a week ago.

Now, on to Spanish 4!

I ended up on the Storrs campus today and got a chance to have a few conversations about my upcoming trip to South Africa. The flight is 15+ hours. That's going to be... tough. But I hear that Cape Town is absolutely beautiful. I think it's safe to say that I'm now looking forward to South Africa as much as I'm NOT looking forward to Spanish 4.

Three more weeks. Just... three more weeks.

* * * * *

I could have gone out and had many and several delicious beers and things with my face. Instead, I spent most of afternoon rewritting a paper and the past 2 hours completing an extra credit project - both for Spanish 3.

I should mention that I had already earned an A- on the paper and that, without this project, I more than likely would still get an A in the course. But it couldn't hurt, right?

Right?!

* * * * *

An email from my Spanish Prof:

Drew, I have already all your grades, so I can unofficially let you know yours: A

You did a great job! I want to congratulate you.

* * * * *

Spanish 4 starts tomorrow.

After some confusion (primarily on the part of my technologically challenged teacher), I've just now been able to get my hands on the syllabus.

Tomorrow is the first day of class. And homework is due. How much homework?

- Memorize vocabulario útil 1. (P. 180-181)
- Activities 1, 2, 4, 5 (P. 181-183)
- Memorize vocabulario útil 2. (P. 184-185)
- Activities 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 (P. 185-188)

Memorize 4 pages of vocab, and complete 9 activities. Before day one.

None of this would be any problem if I had already purchased the book. But I haven't.

And the bookstore is closed on weekends. 

* * * * *

Hoy voy a empezar Spanish 4 y no estoy preocupado. El nombre de mi profesor es Jesús, por lo que estoy optimista.

* * * * *

Hoy, me enteré de que la mayor parte de lo que vamos a aprender es el vocabulario. El resto será una revisión de lo que ya hemos aprendido en español 3.

Creo que puedo manejar eso.

Durante las próximas tres semanas, voy a tratar de escribir todos mis actualizaciones en español. Necesito la práctica.

* * * * *

Totally burned out on Spanish just now.

Today, our instructor lost patience with one of the students and called them out for not studying. When the student fired back with a complaint (in short: this is HARD!), I groaned audibly and said, "So what."

After tomorrow, I'll still have two weeks to go.

* * * * *

No estoy preocupado. He estudiado. Estoy listo.

* * * * *

Midterms are behind me. One week left until finals and the last of my summer coursework is over and done with.

4 quizzes, 2 papers, a comprehensive final, and oral exam. In one week?

Totally doable.

* * * * *

Instructor just sent out an email. Here are the class stats for my Spanish 4 class:

Midterm Exam Average: 58.56
Oral Exam Average: 71.89
Class Grade Average: 68.94

On extra credit, my instructor had this to say in the email: "I know that other instructors have done it in the past, but I do not think it is a good idea."

I have A average right now and that's without the silly 'gimme' class participation factored in. Doesn't make those numbers any less grim though.

Something tells me class attendance is going to be up tomorrow.

* * * * *

In class today, our instructor (who is apparently incapable of whispering) told two students that, unless they get at least a 'B' on the rest of their quizzes and exams, they would fail the course. "And you haven't gotten a 'B' in anything all term, so... I would be worried if I were you," he told one of the two students.

He would have said this to three people instead of two but one of them didn't show up for class.

One student, after missing 4 quizzes, has decided to show up each day, but only for the quiz at the beginning of class. One of the students in danger of failing showed up two hours late today, then, when he was called upon to answer a question, had the guts to complain about not being ready.

Hey parents, teach 'em young; Go to class, do your homework, no excuses. Otherwise, you end up producing grade-chasing zombies entirely disinterested in learning anything while unironically asking for "extra credit".

"You need credit before you can get 'extra-credit," I said, or would have said if I thought anyone was listening.

* * * * *

He recibido un email de mi instructor de español. Clase del martes (las clases dos días antes del examen final) ha sido cancelada.

A día de clase es igual al valor de una semana de la información. Y el examen final?: Jueves.

Sólo una semana más, Drew. Eso es todo. 

* * * * *

During a break in class, our instructor was taking about the differences between life in Spain and life in America.

Teacher: For one thing, you guys have so many dead skanks on the road.
Drew: Um... what?
Teacher: Seriously! I see at least one dead skank almost everyday.
Drew: *horrified* Where are you living?
Teacher: On campus.
Drew: Ah. Well. I guess that explains it.

Later, we explained to him that it's pronounced "skunk".

Teacher: I've been saying it like that forever. Why haven't any of my American friends corrected me?

We then explained what "skank" means.

Hilarity ensued.

* * * * *

Después de mañana, no habrá más clases.
Después de mañana, el verano será mía otra vez.

Después de mañana, voy a ser libre!

Vengan a mí los exámenes finales. Estoy listo.

Estoy listo!

* * * * *

Dear Spanish 4,

I'm typing this in English out of spite.

I will not miss you.

Drew 

* * * * *

just woke up to an email from my instructor with my final grade: A. Which means that my average for this summer is 4.0

This calls for steak and chocolate cake! [read: cheeseburgers and cupcakes]

* * * * *

Summer GPA: 4.0

*drops mic*
*walks away*

Driven

Day 5: A week ago, I began Spanish 3.

Class starts at 8 AM and runs for 4.5 hours. I'd say 4.5 hours straight but we get a ten minute break at the two hour mark. Each day starts with a quiz on the material from the previous day. We took our fifth quiz today. Midterms are Wednesday.

Things. Move. VERY. Quickly.

Missing an hour of a summer session class is the equivalent to missing a day's worth of class in a normal semester. And yet, there are kids in my class who have shown up late, left early, and one who, just plain doesn't do homework even though it's an easy 15% of our grade. It doesn't have to be correct, it just has to be done. You could write just about anything and get 100% credit. Still... *shrug*

Class began a week ago and Midterms are this Wednesday. Finals are next week. I'm enduring all of this with the unblinking courage of a robot gorilla.

Class began a week ago and we're already more than 1/3 of the way through the course material.

Class began a week ago and my teacher still calls my "Strew". I know because that's how she spells it as well.

I'd correct her but it sounds adorable.

Class began a week ago and I'm a lot more confident since then. I can't wait for midterms. I may just end up with an "A" in this course. Until the final bell, however, I have a lot more work to do.

The holiday makes this into a 3-day school week. 'Tough' just got 'tougher'.

*opens lunchables* Bring it, Spanish.

Estoy listo.

Pre-Vent

Day 0: One of the messy truths about my going back to school is summer classes. The "messiness" specifically refers to the unwanted interruption from laying on the couch all day with a hand in my pants reading The Hobbit for the fourth time (ironically, of course) while sipping room temperature beer.

The "truth" part is self-evident.

...mostly.

I can feel a childish tantrum lingering just at the back of my throat, a tickle that won't quite become a cough. I want to complain, to rally against this horrible injustice of summer school - the very antithesis of all things free and young and fun. Even though I can intellectually justify interrupting my summer "vacation" to go back to school (necessity notwithstanding), emotionally it's still a tough sell. Granted, I understand that I wouldn't have had much of a summer vacation otherwise (and by "otherwise" I mean "if I was a normal 30-something holding down a 9 to 5) but it still sucks. Conceptually.

Tomorrow begins six weeks of summer courses - Spanish 3 and Spanish 4 respectively (and consecutively).

Espero que vaya hacer bien.

Here we go again.

The Gradient

The Aftermath: It's 11 AM and I'm in my underpants. I'm home alone. The TV is on but I'm not watching it. Even though I've cued up a show on the DVR that I've been dying to watch. Even though the volume is most of the way up. I can't focus on it. I can't commit. I'm not here.

The dust has finally settled. The noise is gone. The stress has melted and even the lingering cool water of the aftermath has begun to evaporate. I'm in a new place, enjoying the fruits of my hard work. And by that I mean sitting in my underpants in the living room and eating Oreos at 11 AM. I'm gloriously unburdened and reveling in the temporary wonderment of it all. It's glorious. It's miraculous.

The Oreos are double stuffed and I am unflappable.

I took my last final almost two weeks ago ((Day 84) and, if I'm being honest, I was only vaguely engaged. I had gotten over the most difficult hurdle and had already breathed my sigh of relief and begun to relax, despite the fact that there was still work to be done. I studied nonetheless and showed up to campus to had breakfast and center myself beforehand.

I showed up a few minutes early and only about half the class was there. Exam time came and a number of students were still missing. The TA cleared her throat. "We'll wait a few more minutes and then we'll begin." By the time the exam started, three students were still MIA. I finished early and left the room. Exiting the building, I passed one of the missing students rushing on their way to the exam. "I overslept!" he said. I kept walking.

When I decided to leave college more than a decade ago, I felt awful about my decision until I walked out of the Wilbur Cross building. At that moment, the clouds parted, the sun came out in full force, and I couldn't help but smile. I don't believe in signs but, at the time, it sure felt like one. I held on to the memory of that moment for years, recalling it whenever doubt began creeping in about my decision to leave school.

This day, I earned a new memory.

I walked outside, grinning ear to ear. The campus was still littered with sleep-deprived ill-tempered students but I could care less. My book bag felt lighter.  The sun seemed a little brighter. I walk/danced over to the library smiling at strangers like an insane person. I got halfway up the stairs before it occurred to me that I had nothing left to do there. I went up anyone, skipping stairs along the way.

I was done.

Q: "So, how'd you do?"
A: Straight B's. 

So, I earned a 3.0. Hooray for me! Right? Well... mostly.

On the one hand, I'm very happy with that outcome. I worked hard and earned above average marks in every one of my classes. 15 credits worth of B's is not a bad showing for my first semester back after over a decade away.  But on the other hand, I'm a little disappointed with myself. I expected to blow the doors off the semester and walk away with a helpless 4.0 wriggling in my merciless bloody maw.

I think now that I'm back in the swing of things (read: acclimated [read: fully matriculated]) next semester will be easier. And by "easier" I mean that I'm entirely comfortable setting the bar higher than 3.0

In just a few weeks, I'll be starting summer course work and, shortly after that, fall course work. And I 'll blog the whole bloody mess. I promise. Because, honestly, I can't help myself.

For now, though, I've got Oreos to eat. And bunny slippers on my feet. And something else that rhymes with sleep.

And something else that rhymes with sleep.

Until the summer, gang...

#onedown

Finals Week: Prep Work

Day 80: I woke up this morning nervous, scattered, swatting at the alarm clock. My eyes were glued shut. My tongue was a dead wet thing. I yawned and rubbed my eyes, hoping that it was Monday and not Tuesday.

It was Tuesday.

I stuffed my notes and textbooks into my bag and headed out the door.

Campus was the same strange version of itself that it had been the day before; students studying, weeping, wandering in a daze, the air thick with tension and worry. I avoided the library and headed for the Student Union instead, hoping that it would be less... theatrical.

A young woman sat near me, wrenched open her laptop, and began reading things aloud.


"Ok one... one fiiiiifty-three... ok terminal point... and the modifier... ok ok .... wait... wait what about... oh there it is, there it is. Whew! Ok... ok ok..."


She never completed a sentence or an idea, just spouted sentence fragments into the ether, hoping, perhaps, that they'd instigate something helpful. Every now and then, she'd look up from her laptop, scowling, her eyes darting around the room.

I changed seats.

I was staring down the most difficult of my three exams. I had been to class (all of them), done my homework, and studied hard. Very hard. And, still, I felt entirely unprepared. The day before, I had gone to two Final Exam reviews for this class. This particular class is a survey course comprised of 25 sections of about 20-25 kids a piece, so I arrived early hoping to beat the rush. Including myself, there were 4 kids there. Four. As in 1-2-3-4.

For those of you playing the at-home game, that's less than 1% of the total population of students.

The absence of the other students was so profound, I had trouble concentrating. I kept thinking, "Am I in the right review? Is this for MY class?" One of the four of us there wore headphones nearly the entire time.

The instructor for the review scribbled things on the white board and declared things in the nonsense language that I was to be tested on less than 24 hours hence. I was nervous and wrote everything down. And then a strange thing happened. He got something wrong. I pointed it out and, after a few seconds, he apologized and sheepishly erased and rewrote the example.

And then it happened again. And again. And AGAIN.

I stopped being subtle about pointing out his errors and, instead, showed him my work. The other students began shifting in their seats. I started giving unsolicited advice on how to more simply solve some of the problems. The students started asking me questions directly. The instructor turned a shade of red I'd never seen before.

The kid with headphones finally took out his notebook when he realized that the session was nearly over and, of course, by then, it was much too late. We packed our things and wished one another luck on the exam. I thanked the instructor on the way out the door.

"You don't need luck," he said. "You're more ready than I am."

Despite the fact that he was probably (read: demonstrably) right, I went to another review session that evening, this one hosted by the professor. A couple hundred kids (240+) showed up this time. The room thrummed and buzzed with scuffling feet and sidebar conversations. After about an hour, most of the students began packing and leaving, one by one. 90 minutes in, the group was reduced to about 75 kids. The questions became much more specific and practical. Without the din of the departed disinterested students, everything was clearer. Students tapped one another on the shoulder and explained things. The professor smiled more.

All too soon, the professor looked over her glasses and asked, "I think that's it. Are there any other questions?"

We rose and left.

30 minutes before the exam, a few students began to gather outside the door. 15 minutes before the exam, there was a chattering mob. 3 minutes before the exam, the professor arrived, flanked by TA's carrying boxes. I jumped up from my seat on the floor and pulled the door open for them. The prof smiled at me.

10 minutes later, I was face-to-face with the exam. 90 minutes after that, I was done.

I wouldn't face another exam for two more days but I went to the library anyway. I took my time walking, reviewing what had just happened, asking myself over and over if I had done my best, if there wasn't something else that I could or should have done. "I did my best," I said aloud and smiled, because it was true.

I had done the best that I could do.

Finals Week: The Student Body

Day 79: I arrived on campus at my normal time and immediately noticed a difference. As I usually do on exam days, I drove past the fire station (for luck). Most mornings, there are  handful of joggers and strollers, women with their hair tied back, chubby men with noisy strides, and the like. This morning, there was no one. Things were so desolate, I double checked the date on my phone to be sure I hadn't shown up on a Sunday:

Mon, May 6, 2013

I parked and noticed the garage was conspicuously bare as well. I easily got a spot near the door and, again, checked my phone, sure that I had arrived on campus extra early:

7:58 AM

A few groups of people wandered the campus in packs, similar to the tour groups that began popping up a few months ago but comprised of much older folk. An older woman in one of the groups smiled at me, her lips parting on a yellowing set of uneven teeth.I got the feeling that she knew something that I didn't. I did my best to smile back.

I ate breakfast in a strangely deserted Student Union, now slightly nervous, now checking the date and time on my phone every few minutes, now double and triple checking the exam schedule. To calm myself a little, I   browsed my news/blog feeds. When I looked up a few moments later, the place was packed - PACKED! - with students, silent, eager, desperately sweating students.

Two young men stared at their textbooks then at one another. "Lambda equals h over p," one of the young men said, unsure, squinting. The young man opposite him squinted back, as if trying to see something that wasn't there. They stayed like this for a few moments before returning their gaze each to his own textbook.

A young woman to my left fidgeted with her cell phone, mumbling to herself, writing things down and crossing them out seemingly at random. Her phone rang for only and instant before she answer breathlessly, "Jenna thank GOD! Did you take notes? Can you bring them? I'm at The U." There were a couple of beats of silence before she followed up with, "I know he's gonna screw us with this exam. [pause] Right? He's such an asshole." After a few more choice words, she hung up the phone and returned to her ritual of scrawling and scribbling.

A young man bumped into me and began apologizing profusely. "It's ok," I said, distant, confused. His eyes were red and cloudy with great dark circles around them. He kept talking, a man in a dream, walking away, speaking to no one.

I'm usually alone in the library with my secret crush for an hour or so before class. Today, every single PC was taken. Moreover, students had situated themselves in piles all over the floor, against the walls, draped over couches, stuffed behind doors and in chairs. They were dressed in PJs, old t-shirts, their hair in disarray, their eyes moody and distant. I remembered a sign on the way in that read, Library Open 24/7 during Exam Week. Good Luck! "My God," I thought to myself. "Have they been here all night?"

All around was the smell of panic and nervous sweat, a dank metallic aura of fear and regret. They mumbled to themselves and one another, rocking slightly, hunched over text books, babbling, chanting, praying.

One girl spontaneously burst into tears. A few students situated near her looked about helplessly, unsure, their fingers holding their place in their textbooks. But her tears lasted only a moment. She cleared her throat and swiped at her face, running her fingers through her hair. The other students returned to their textbooks, pretending not to have witnessed her indignity.

I left the library.

I arrived to my first exam 20 minutes early. Here, too, the floor was lousy with lounging students, students propped against walls and dangling on the ends of stools and chairs. Some were fast asleep. Some looked insane. One was reading the textbook and taking notes. I steered clear of him.

Five minutes before the exam, we were seated in the lecture hall, waiting, praying, counting down. A student behind me used the free time to pepper the TA with questions. After a minute or two, I turned to him and said, "Kid, if you don't know it by now, you don't know it. Relax and earn your grade."

The TA smiled meekly, shrugging a bit. "He's right," she said. The student began chewing his lower lip, marking the time with wet, weasel eyes.

When I finished the exam, I headed to the library again. Even before I entered, I saw an explosion of students strewn about, desperate, tortured, fretful. A beautiful young woman walked by outside the library, talking on her cell phone, uncharacteristically cheerful and carefree."I could care less if I get a D or whatever," she giggled. "It's Daddy's money!"

She smelled like a Chanel no. 5 commercial.