Monthly Archives: September 2009

So I have this Professor

named James Dean. And he is just a teeny tiny, HUGE BALL OF INSANITY. And I mean insanity in the weird sense, not the crazy sense. Par exemple, that means for example to all of you non French speaking people, he will just sort of space out in class. We don’t really know what he is thinking, but a good 30 seconds of silence goes by before he resumes his thought. The girl who sits next to me seems to be the only other one who finds him absolutely hysterical, even though he isn’t trying to be. I mean, we generally spend 3/4 of the class laughing at him (in kindness, mind you) and 1/4 the class learning. He just has a unique way of phrasing things that can either sound really absurd or really inappropriate.

He also really, really loves medieval literature. I mean, he teaches an entire class devoted to Chaucer, who we are studying right now. The stories we are reading in class are written in our textbooks as they originally appeared which means original medieval language. We then have to read the story, get online, find the translation he has provided, and sort of try and figure out what the story is about, as the translation isn’t all that translated to begin with. Good times. We just finished the Miller’s Tale from The Canterbury Tales, and I’ve got to say that James Dean mentions the fact that this is “THE MOST BRILLIANT AND WELL WRITTEN STORY IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.” I mean the man only says it every other second. But the thing I like most about this medieval language (which isn’t much) is when James Dean reads it aloud to us.

Now, he is a very white, very old, very American man. But put a page of medieval english in front of him and he becomes this very energetic, very ancient, VERY BRITISH man. It is like this accent takes over his body and you would swear someone else had come into the class to read to us. Knowing this about himself he likes to show off and the other day he decided it was time to show how horrible we were at this. He had us split into groups and pick a few lines from the text and elect one person to read them aloud. He came by each group and helped (as much as he could) with the accents and which letters to pronounce, but it was still a big old mess. The group before us actually chose our lines so we switched lines about ten seconds before we were called on and we only messed up one consonant pronunciation! Huzzah!

Other than that thrilling story my life at University has been quite horrid. While James Dean is a hilarious teacher he isn’t a fantastic grader. And meeting with him during office hours is a whole big awkward situation. I had a group presentation (I hate those so, so much) where we had to teach subject-verb agreement to 19-21 year olds and that was interesting. My group was one of those only communicate by email type groups, so I ended up typing every thing out as far as the lesson plan went and the handout for the class. THEN! The girl in our group who had the game we were going to play in class got extremely sick and wasn’t there on the day of our presentation. And she didn’t email us, so we had to make up a game on the spot BUT we got a good grade because sometimes being a teacher requires you to do things like that.

Also I failed my French quiz (and I don’t mean take pity on me I think I failed, I mean I REALLY failed… we got our grades back today) so that was encouraging. Apparently the section I did the worse on, the majority of the class did terribly on, so he is letting us do a make up quiz for that part. But I do have something good concerning French… today I was at the store and I was looking for a certain type of a hand wipe things. I picked up said item and looked at the package to see if it was what I wanted when I read the description and put it back. Then I sort of did a double take and looked back at the thing, and turns out I was reading the french description! Without realizing it! And I knew what it said! That definitely made up for the quiz.

Well holy frick would you look at the time! I have to get up trés early to go to my field observation. Oh the joys of being an education major.


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Bouquets of sharpened pencils.

In my grammar class my professor asked us to bring in a book we really liked for some little project we were going to be completing. I decided to bring in the book Naked by David Sedaris, because that book is the epitome of awesome. I swear, even if you don’t like reading you will like this book; each “chapter” is a short story about an event that took place in the author’s life. These events range from speech therapy when he was in elementary school to hitch hiking his way from Ohio to California and let me tell you, he met some INTERESTING (read: insane) people along the way.

Anyway, the point of the exercise was writing a descriptive poem. We were asked to pick two short passages from the book and create a poem using words and ideas from the quotes we chose. I liked this exercise so much I can’t wait to use it in my future classroom. And now I will share with you what I wrote because you knew it was coming.

Passage 1: “Driving pas the iron gates and up the winding driveway on my first day of work, my mother offered me a series of last-minute alternatives.” (pg. 74)

Passage 2: “The road to Hobbe’s orchard wound past a dairy farm where several dozen speckled cows passed the time grinding wet grass with their blunt teeth.” (pg. 163)

My poem:

On my first day of work

Driving past the iron gates,

My mother pleaded for me to turn around.

The winding driveway stretched on for miles,

The dairy farm was up ahead;

My mother offered better opportunities as I passed the speckled cows,

Mouths chewing,

Teeth grinding

On the dew covered grass.

The road to Hobbe’s orchard was a long one,

But I had made my decision.

I got out of the car and closed the door

On my mother’s cries.

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Fun for all ages!

This is a special blog bulletin informing YOU, dear Internet, to go check out the latest from Sam Greenspan, aka 11 Points, aka the best 11 point list website you are ever likely to find. I bring special attention to today’s post (I say special attention because the website has been linked over on the right side of my blog since… forever) because I am an English Education major (this is nothing new to you avid readers) and once again 11 Points has cleverly crafted a list devoted entirely to BOOKS of a banned nature. BANNED BOOKS! What more could excite you?!

Probably a lot more. But seeing as a few authors I like have been banned, or at least challenged (Looking for Alaska by John Green the first to come to mind) I advise you to go and give this list a chance. And then check out the rest of the lists, because they are that awesome.

11 pts

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Let’s call this one… Exciting.

For my Psychology of Education class I have to have 18 hours “in the field.” This is just another way of saying I have to go to a high school conveniently located in the next state over (even if it is just 20 min away… next state over sounds more dramatic) and observe a teacher. I have to continue to go back until I have a recorded 18 hours of field experience. I’ve done this before so I (kind of) knew what to expect. I mean, the teacher I had before had recently been in the ARMY and now he was teaching 6-8th graders. Let’s just say the man knew how to yell. I should also tell you this is the same man whose best piece of advice for a new teacher was, and I’m not even kidding these words were straight from his mouth, “Don’t date the parent of one of your students. Or a colleague. Don’t date someone you work with.” Words of wisdom, words. of. wisdom.

So yeah, I was pretty anxious to see who I was paired up with. I was put in an English classroom so I knew I was on the right track. (Last time I was put in a history class while the history major was put in an English class and they wouldn’t let us switch.) My teacher is freaking awesome. I won’t mention her real name, so let’s call her… Mrs. Adams. And I have been emailing her back and forth and figuring out a time to meet up with her and she seemed nice. Well I met her Tuesday and she is exceptionally nice. I have come to realize that she is my teaching twin; very similar to the kind of teacher I want to be. Is is crazy, fun, sarcastic at times, jokes with the kids but still hold’s their respect and she really makes learning fun.

When I first got into the classroom the kids weren’t there yet, she was just showing me around the school and her classroom. She stepped out to make some copies before all the kids came in, and I took a moment to take a few pictures of her classroom to show you how AWESOME she is.

First, she has LITERARY ACTION FIGURES. Snape, Shakespeare (with removable quill and book!) and Jane Austin:

Action figures!

Next she has a poster of STEPHEN COLBERT:


And the last (and the absolute best) thing I took a picture of was…. A BOBBLE HEAD SHAKESPEARE:

Billy Shakes

Yes, I know. I could hardly believe it myself. So the class filed in and she introduced me and they looked a little disappointed because I think they all thought I was some sort of special guest coming into class to talk to them about something, but when they found out they would still be doing all of their original work and stuff they got sad. Oh well! The first class I am observing is 10th Grade Honors and they are pretty much your typical honors students except ohmygosh they are SO TINY!!! I couldn’t believe they were 10th graders! And let us just discuss a select few of these kids for a moment. First I should say I don’t think there is any sort of dress code other than you must be wearing clothes and if you wear a skirt it has to reach the bottom of your fingertips. That is it. No more rules. So there is this one girl with (I’m not going to lie) kind of a bad perm (I can’t tell if it is naturally frizzy or just a bad perm) and her whole head is HOT HOT PINK. But that isn’t even the oddest thing about her okay… So she has no eyebrows. Completely shaved them off. Instead of normal eyebrows she has some sort of (semi?)permanent tattoo of a design above both her eyes. It threw me for a second. Then, then we have this kid who I don’t know his name yet, but that is okay because I prefer to call him Van Halen. He looks like he could walk onstage during a Van Halen concert and just fit right in, no problems, no questions asked.

On Tuesday they worked in groups dissecting a poem and whatnot then presented in front of the class. Pretty basic stuff. I go in the mornings from 7:30 to 9:05 than race (but not speed mom!) back to campus for my 9:30 class. Then I go back to the high school from 12:50 to 2:30ish and then race back to campus for my 3:30 French (ugh) class. I will be doing this every Tuesday and Thursday for like… the next 18 hours of observation time. HA.

The second group of kids I observe are actually in an inclusion class. What this means is they all have some form of a disability anywhere from ADD to Autism to CP to anything really. Because there are more than five of these kids in this class the state requires a specialized teacher to work with Mrs. Adams and help out around the class because they can be a little unruly at times. I have to say these are the most hilarious kids ever, but you can’t really laugh at what they say because they are being disruptive. But you just can’t help it! Looking at the class you would not be able to tell any of them suffered from any type of disability. There is really only one kid in particular that I can tell, and that is from the way he talks. They all, for the most part, get along quite well however Tuesday was a “good day” meaning a lot of the kids have emotional and behavioral disorders and can be really mean or have attitudes a lot. They were all quite well behaved for the most part, though I was told that three of the absent students were absent due to suspending, and they will probably be back today. As they are the most troublesome of the group I’m quite interested to see how today will play out.

So that is just a basic overview of what a large majority of my posts will be about in the near future. I already have a few funny stories of things said in class and things that they have done, but this post is already way too long, so I will save them for another time!

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Hey Internet. I haven’t forgotten about you.

So the thing of it is, I have a lot of homework. A LOT. More than ever. Hours and hours of psychology reading. French paragraphs to write and read in front of the class because my professor is a douchebag (sorry mom, but it is true) and LAUGHS IN OUR FACE when we tell him we are having a hard time translating a story about some boy and his sandwhich. At least I think that is what it was about, I don’t know, I can’t translate some pretty keywords.

Anywho, the thing is I haven’t budgeted a lot of time for things like my blog. You are here for the stories! Remember when I used to tell stories? I know, I know. It has been a while. BUT! If you will just hang in there for like, another week, and let me finish all these appointments I have with advisors and doctors and things, I promise promise promise I will be back to full on blogging mode.

But the point of this post is that it sort of sank in today. The whole New Zealand thing. I know, I’m sorry if you are one of those who hates hearing about this type of thing. I’m not here to brag, to say OH LOOK! I get to study abroad again! At least I really hope not brag about it all the time. But y’all… I AM GOING TO NEW ZEALAND. I freaking love traveling. LOVE it. Sitting in airports, landing in a new place, completely wiped out and all I want to do is sleep yet all I can do is go out and explore. It finally sank in that I will have a whole new world to explore for a month. I can’t even begin to explain how much I love my parents. I’m not just saying this because they are letting me go out of the country yet again. I really, really love them for sacrificing their wants and needs so I can have these opportunities. Not every kid gets an amazing set of parents like I have, and I just hope that they know how much I love them. I don’t think I say it enough.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

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Can you feel it?

“Don’t you just love New York in the fall? It makes me wanna buy school supplies.”

Oh, yes Joe Fox. I do love New York in the fall. I love everything about the fall; the weather, the smells, the atmosphere… it can’t really be explained. You just have to feel it. For as long as I remember my family has been making annual trips to Heritage in Charlotte, NC. (Yes, that Heritage. Jim and Tammy Fay Baker Heritage.) I have very random, very vivid memories of being a child and walking down main street, looking up at the hotel windows that seemed to magically hover over the shops. The colors were so bright and beautiful, looking like doll houses I only dreamed about. I wanted to stay in one of those hotels more than anything.

I would walk down main street, holding either my mother’s or my grandmother’s hand, looking into the shops as we passed by, hoping I would get to go in one and try on beautiful dresses. After trying on dresses came ice cream. Now, this was no ordinary ice cream. This was a shop set up like an ice cream parlor straight from the fifties. I’m sure it was nothing special, but when I was younger I was convinced it was the most magical place on earth. Then there was the water park and the Snow White (or what I remember being a Snow White) ride, and light houses and we stayed in a tree house… yes, a literal tree house. There were two or so bedrooms, a living room, bathrooms, a kitchen, everything you would need and it was built into a tree. Everything was just insanely magical.

Of course if you know anything at all about Jim and Tammy Faye you will know that this magical place did not have the best of luck. After the embezzlement charges Heritage was put up for sale and one bad deal after another left the place in shambles. The tree houses ended up being sold as actual homes. The tennis courts were soon covered with weeds. The water park shut down; the shops on Main Street closed one after the other. The light house where they used to put on plays for the kids became old, rotten, and worn down. Now as I think back, it reminds me of that Robert Frost poem, Nothing Gold Can Stay:

Nature’s first green is gold

Her hardest hue to hold

Her early leaf’s a flower;

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay.

The years went by and we came back to Heritage here and there, but nothing really came of it. Until one Thanksgiving. I can’t really remember it to tell you the truth. We went to Heritage for Thanksgiving and my grandmother had a timeshare. We stayed in a log cabin and have done so every year since then. I can’t tell you how much I love this place. I really believe it is magical.

There is an amphitheater not five or so minutes from the cabins and a local church would put on Christmas productions. Every year we would bundle up in shirts layered with sweatshirts, winter jackets, scarves, gloves, hats, three pairs of socks, warm shoes, and blankets and we would STILL freeze our butts off. Hot apple cider provided a quick relief during intermission. The play was the same every year and even though we knew what was going to happen or what the characters were going to say (FLY DONKEY FLY!!!!) it was just something we looked forward to- a tradition that simply could not be broken. But nothing gold can stay, and a few years ago was the last performance the company put on.

Then would come the Thanksgiving feast and my grandmother and mum would wake up early and start cooking. We would dine like royalty with the most amazing dishes you could ever think of, after which we would watch the end of the parade and start Miracle on 34th street while silently asking ourselves WHY did we eat so much?

Then came black Friday, aka go to a GIANT shopping mall and get lost in the crowds and lines and many trips taking bags to the car so you don’t have to lug them around with you all the while looking at whoever would listen and shout “WHY DID WE COME ON THE BUSIEST DAY?” Again, a tradition that couldn’t be broken.

During these celebrations we would often pick my father up at the airport in time for him to celebrate Thanksgiving and do the annual coloring contest before he had to go back to work. And yes, I did say coloring contest. We have the same picture every year of two pilgrims which we have to color and the best one wins a prize. It gets VERY, VERY competitive. Sadly we would return home, exhausted from the travels but happy to see our cats, who we missed very much.

And then this thing called college happened. All the family were in separate states (except for my sister, she was in Florida with me) and we didn’t make it up to Heritage. I still got to bake the dishes with my grandmother at her house, the parade BOOMING on her television while my grandpa watched the football game in his office. My sister ended up having to work and didn’t get a chance to come over. I was really, really sad because I love my family so much and these special times we had during the holidays mean so much to me. And then last year I was in England for Thanksgiving and it really goes without saying that they don’t celebrate it over there, so the food was all wrong and I missed everyone.

It is finally fall here in Delaware. The weather has changed; there is a constant breeze reminding me the pumpkins will be out soon and the carnivals and fall festivals are just beginning. There is also a different smell to the air; the scents make me feel as though I am back in Heritage, reciting Romeo and Juliet out of the top of the moldy light house window. Reminding me of seeing a movie on Thanksgiving night, of baking pies and turkey and mashed potatoes. Of making biscuits from scratch and forgetting to take my rings off, accidentally filling each nook and cranny with dough and flour. I walk around listening to “Believe” by Josh Groban because during the parade one year he sang it and my grandma and I replayed it over and over at full volume. I’m homesick for a place that is much, much more than a home to me. It is when everyone in my family was happy; we laughed and talked and didn’t have the circumstances life has thrown at us. For one week I (really, really) tried not to fight with my sister but instead walk with her down the abandoned railroad tracks.

But this year is different, in a good way. We are all heading back to the same exact log cabins for one last Thanksgiving before my grandma’s timeshare ends, where we will eat the familiar dishes and watch the parade and sing and listen to Kenny G play christmas tunes while we fall asleep. Sure we wont be able to shout FLY DONKEY FLY! along with the cast, but Main Street has opened again! And you better believe I am going to look at all the old shops, hotels, and darn it all, I am going to have another scoop of ice cream.

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Smiles all around.

Today I was attempting to do some homework that isn’t due until Friday, although ultimately the “you have all day Thursday to do it” battle won. Anyway, the homework required me opening a book that I ordered off of It was a little old book about teaching grammar to secondary students, no big deal, but when I opened it up (I hadn’t until this point) I saw this little note from the seller stuck inside the book:


I can’t tell you how much it brightened my day up! Thank you Sarah!

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A Survey Between Classes.

1. What author do you own the most books by?

William Shakespeare.

2. What book do you own the most copies of?
Hamlet. Paper Towns.

3. Did it bother you that both those questions ended with prepositions?
No. When I talk, I end sentences with prepositions. When I write blogs I do the same. I only really take the rule into consideration when I am writing a paper for a class.

4. What fictional character are you secretly in love with?

Hamlet. Ron Weasley. Q. Darcy.

5. What book have you read the most times in your life (excluding picture books read to children; i.e., Goodnight Moon does not count)?
Hamlet. Jacob’s Rescue. George’s Marvelous Medicine.

6. What was your favorite book when you were ten years old?
Jacob’s Rescue. George’s Marvelous Medicine.

7. What is the worst book you’ve read in the past year?
The Victim by Saul Bellow.

8. What is the best book you’ve read in the past year?
I can’t choose. One of these: Me Talk Pretty One Day. Naked. Paper Towns. The Lovely Bones.

9. If you could force everyone you know to read one book, what would it be?
Ant Farm.

10. What book would you most like to see made into a movie?
Considering how people who turn books into movies virtually rape them of everything good and decent, I don’t know if I would wish that upon a book. That being said, I am anticipating what is going to happen with The Lovely Bones.

11. What book would you least like to see made into a movie?
I have absolutely no idea. Ask again later.

12. Describe your weirdest dream involving a writer, book, or literary character.
I had a dream that mixed John Green and Hamlet and Harry Potter (the golden trio) but I can’t remember the specific details. All I remember is that it was ODD.

13. What is the most lowbrow book you’ve read as an adult?

14. What is the most difficult book you’ve ever read?

Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. I didn’t even finish it. I didn’t even make it past the seventh chapter.

15. What is the most obscure Shakespeare play you’ve seen?
Timon of Athens was one seriously effed up play. Don’t read it. Don’t see it.

16. Do you prefer the French or the Russians?
I want to learn how to speak Russian. I would love, love to adopt a little girl from there. But I’ve been to France, and I will be devoting the rest of my academic life to learning the language. So I guess French.

17. Roth or Updike?
Roth. Go read Goodbye, Columbus right now.

18. David Sedaris or Dave Eggers?
SEDARIS. Sedaris. Sedaris. Sedaris allllllll the way.

19. Shakespeare, Milton, or Chaucer?
Shakespeare. Duh.
20. Austen or Eliot?
Austen. A thousand times Austen.

21. What is the biggest or most embarrassing gap in your reading?
Lord of the Rings. I WILL read these before I go to New Zealand. I promise.

22. What is your favorite novel?

I don’t know. I hate this question. I’m pretty fond of Looking for Alaska by John Green.

23. Play?
Hamlet. Keep up people.

24. Poem?
Annabelle Lee by Edgar Allan Poe.

25. Essay?
Civil Disobedience by Thoreau.

26. Work of nonfiction?
Me Talk Pretty One Day. Naked. Both are by David Sedaris. Without You by Anthony Rapp.

27. Who is your favorite writer?
I can’t choose a favorite. JKR and John are pretty awesome though.

28. Who is the most overrated writer alive today?
Stephanie Meyer.

29. What is your desert island book?
The Harry Potter series. Does that count as one book? Who cares, that is what I am choosing.

30. And… what are you reading right now?
Pride and Prejudice and Zombies by Seth Grahame-Smith. On the Road by Jack Kerouac. Breakfast at Tiffany’s by Truman Capote.


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Big Brother is watching me sleep.

About two weeks ago I went into the doctors for a sleep study. This sleep study consisted of being hooked up to MANY wires on my legs, arms, face, head, neck, shoulders, etc. Then I had to sleep in a bed while people watched me and monitored my breathing. The point of this study was to find out if I have sleep apnea, a tiny little condition where you stop breathing in your sleep. Last night I had to go back for a second study because guess what! I have sleep apnea! And they wanted to see how things would go if I slept with one of those masks that covers your nose and mouth and makes you feel like Darth Vader. Once the nurse left the room I couldn’t stop giggling at how ridiculous I looked, a giant mask covering half of my face and wires everywhere. Even if I did take a picture I don’t think I would ever post it, no not ever THAT is how crazy I looked.

All of the wires that were eventually connected to me. And yes, that is my adorable stuffed animal in the background.

All of the wires that were eventually connected to me. And yes, that is my adorable stuffed animal in the background.

A close up of all the WIRES!

A close up of all the WIRES!

BIg Brother watching me sleep. Oh, and Conan.

BIg Brother watching me sleep. Oh, and Conan.

While the nurse was getting everything ready she was telling me that through the last sleep study I stopped breathing six times per hour during a normal nights sleep. However, when I hit my REM cycle I stop breathing FIFTEEN TIMES PER HOUR. I know, holy frick. I guess it worked because I am getting a special, CUSTOM MADE sleeping mask. Designed specifically for me. If it wasn’t so incredibly so embarrassing looking I would probably be excited. And I guess I have to use this thing for the rest of my life? They weren’t really into specifics or anything; they were just interested in hooking me up to more wires.

Now, have you ever tried to fall asleep while hooked up to wires, breathing out of a face mask, KNOWING there is someone watching you sleep through a security camera type thing? It isn’t that easy. You think to yourself, “Boy! I sure am tired! Falling asleep won’t be any trouble for me.” But then you get there and get all set up and then you have to lay there in the dark with only your stuffed animal to keep you company while someone speaks to you over an intercom telling you to look up and down, left and right, move your feet, hold your breath, so they can make sure that everything is working, and you are suddenly WIDE AWAKE. The first time I did this the metal from the bed post were conflicting with the wires and they weren’t getting any signals in the lab and they didn’t know what was wrong. So the lady’s voice came booming over the intercom and was all, “I’m sorry Lauren we are having EXTREME technical difficulties.” And then five minutes later they figured out that it was the metal from the headboard. Last night went considerably better and I was in bed by 11pm. And I find that interesting because for the past week both my roommate and I have been going to bed by 11pm (midnight if we have homework) because we get up at 7:30. And we need our sleep. So I was pretty happy to keep on schedule last night, and yes I realize this makes me a complete dork.

I was awoken this morning at 5am, well that is when they came in and took the wires off. I fell asleep at 11, woke up at 1am, felt like ripping the mask off, fell back asleep, woke back up at 4am and couldn’t fall back asleep. So I just lay in bed wondering when I would be able to get up. Finally I was able to and I got back to my mom’s house (much closer than the dorms) and I was unable to go back to sleep.

So I have been awake since 4am and because the majority of you have never met me, you have no idea what I am like when I get no sleep. I am crazy. I laugh at everything. Everything anybody says reminds me of a lyric in a Broadway song and I feel the need to just belt it out. Already today I have covered Spamalot, Wicked, Hairspray, Spring Awakening, and loads of others I have forgotten.

Speaking of forgetting things, I totally forgot where I was going with this post. On that note, I think I will leave you all and go annoy my mother a little more.


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A post in which boys giggle and I suffer much humiliation.

This past Sunday I spent the day moving into my dorm. This involved going up and down and up and down and up and down and up and down stairs until everything was in my room. I don’t have that much stuff, but it seems like 900 million things when you don’t have your dad and brother there to do all of the lifting. Usually I just stand in my room and supervise, “no that goes there” or, “DAD! Don’t put that on the bed!” and even, “DON’T SLAM THAT TOTE DOWN DO YOU NOT SEE THE BREAKABLE SIGN I NEATLY TAPED ON IT???” I really am greatful for their help, but I don’t want my expensive perfume smashed into tiny bits. Now, the interesting thing about all of this up and down the stairs business is every time I passed my neighbor’s room his parents had the furniture arranged in a different way while he was telling them, “no this will not fit.” Curiosity got the better of me and I peeked in the room only to find they had a GIANT carpet to put down on the floor. So they turned it one way, but that didn’t work. So they turned it the other way. And then they had to lift up both of the beds so they could fit it in the room. By this time the desk was sticking half way out of the room, and halfway into the hall. My mom invited his mom into my room to show her how my roommate and I have set up our furniture because we find that it works out quite nicely. She then explained that he has a couple of chairs and OF COURSE they want their T.V. on its own stand so they could play video games.

Once my mother and I got everything in the room we realized we forgot my printer and microwave.  We went to pick those thigns up and when we got back we saw that he finally got everything to work out in his room, and they did this by shoving his dresser into his closet and turning his bed against a different wall. Now, I am not exaggerating when I say that they seriously have five hundred chairs in their room. I mean it; every time I go by I see one more chair in there!

I actually think I am going to like my hall this year. Last semester no one on the hall talked to anyone else, unless of course they were smoking pot outside, at 2 in the morning, allowing the fumes to drift into my room. My hall last semester was a weird bunch who didn’t smile and most likely killed babies for fun. My R.A. was practically non-existent. I believe I saw him in the dorm twice. My R.A. this year is better about being seen. He is nice and when we had our hall meeting he made us do an exciting “speed dating” thing. Except it wasn’t really speed dating we were just getting to know other people. We were uneven so the two lines were all out of sync so for a large majority of the game I got to know the same five people really well. Finally he came down to our end of the line and I told him I think we should invert the lines so we could get to know other people. Well let me tell you that was a disaster. I don’t think he understood what I meant, and after three minutes we finally got the line switched up enough that I met about three other people. So far everyone has been quite loud and happy. The guys right across from me have a Wii so they are constantly playing with the rest of the guys on the hall gathered around them telling them where to go or what to do, and they go there or do whatever is instructed to them which I suppose gains them more points or something, because five minutes later you can hear them SCREAMING and LAUGHING and GIGGLING and slapping each other on the backs for a job well done.

Tuesday was the first day of classes. I had Teaching Exceptional Adolescents and French II. TEA was really fun; I really, really like my professor. That class is a basic instructional guide on how to teach special education students. We are given case studies that we have to research and present to the class. I think the most notable thing from that class was when my professor was talking about the Swine Flu. He was telling us to be smart, and that we wouldn’t get it unless we didn’t wash our hands, or we let a pimp spit in our mouths. The class was pretty silent for a few seconds and then all it takes is that one person to make a noise and suddenly everyone is laughing. I think if a pimp spit in my mouth swine flu would be the least of my worries. French was alright; I really, really, really loved my professor last semester but she sadly wasn’t teaching 106 this semester. So I have some guy whose name I simply cannot pronounce (I doubt I ever will) and he is… interesting. Being that this is French 106 he speaks 98% of the class time in French. He repeats himself in English when he can truly tell that we are lost. The thing about this class is that it is largely composed of Freshmen. I think I am the only senior (SENIOR!!!) in there. I am taking it again with my really good friend who is a sophomore, but other than us, I think there are only one or two more sophomores out of the 20 or so people in the class. But that isn’t even the interesting part. Get this. There is a TEN YEAR OLD in my class. A TEN YEAR OLD IN FRENCH II. And she is good. Everyone sort of stares at her with a hint of resentment as we stumble over verbs from last semester.

And now I must take a moment to tell you about my French classroom. On Tuesdays and Thursdays we have class in one room and on Mondays and Wednesdays it is in a different room (I have no idea why). Now, to get to the room on Tuesdays and Thursdays we have to go to the Sports Center. We have to go in, go past the gyms, go past the exercise rooms, past the rock climbing wall, past all of the sweaty people in exercise clothes who are staring at us because we are normally dressed with book bags and purses and things. Then we go down a set of stairs to a dead end and go in a door to a creepy hallway. Then we pass more exercise rooms and things, and FINALLY we come to the only two classrooms in the entire sports complex. Can someone please explain to me why on earth we have class here? The room is really big but our class is small, so it is hard to hear the professor because his voice (which is quite and masked by a really, really heavy French accent) carries up to the ceiling and we are all, “WHAT? WHAT DID HE SAY? PARDON?”

On Wednesday I went to my British Lit class with my professor named JAMES DEAN. He is a fiery old man and I think I am really going to enjoy the class. Then it was time for Grammar and my professor is awesomeeee. We had to go around the room and tell our name, status (SENIOR!!!) major, and something interesting about ourselves. One of the girls in my class was born on Christmas! That was exciting. I chose to share that I have lived in a lot of different states and then she asked if I could name them all, so I did. Then came the running. I have exactly 15 minutes to get from one building on one side of campus to another building on the other side of campus. I have to cross two streets; two busy streets full of cars and motorcycles and lights that never seem to change. If I am lucky I will make it on time to Psychology of Education, a class where we are required to keep a blog. I love that! We were assigned groups and we had to come up with a name, so my group is called the Purple Parrots from Legends of the Hidden Temple. We got our field placements and I am going to a nice school located in a different state. In reality it is only a 12 minute drive from my dorm, but it is in the next state over.

Then it was time to go back to French where we played charades in class using verbs we have learned. Now, let me explain this to you in case you don’t know this about me. I. HATE. GAMES. No, I take that back. I. LOATH. GAMES. With every fiber of my being, I loath them. I would rather sit at the dentist or the doctor getting shots or root canals than play a game in class. The first person goes and their verb is “to dance” and other people get words like “to sing” or “to talk on the telephone” or “to drink water.” So I get my card. And I look at my verb. And I’m all, “No, this can’t be right.” So I go up to him and say, “Ummm I forgot what this means.” And he told me it meant “to be busy.” And I said, “How do you act that out?” BECAUSE IT COULDN’T BE ACTED OUT. And he just looks at me and says, “I don’t know, make something up.”


Okay Frenchie. Maybe you have a different way of playing charades in France, but here in America we act out what is on the card, and this simply CAN NOT be acted out. So I’m up in front of the room, and I tell the class “good luck” and begin to act this out. I pretend that I am writing on paper, and shuffling through other papers and then I keep looking at my watch, hoping this portrays my message. It did not. Everyone was guessing writing, or time, or anything but being busy. I stood up and looked at my professor and said, “I don’t know how else to act this out.” Then I heard it. Someone murmured “busy” to themselves and I said, “YES! NOW SAY IT IN FRENCH!” and the problem was NO ONE KNEW HOW. So while the professor was writing a clue on the board I flashed the card to my friend in hopes she would say the answer and I could sit down. No luck; she couldn’t read the writing. Finally they got it and I could go back to my seat.

Internet, it was awful. Just awful. I now loath that class.

And sadly, that is where I am off to now. So good bye people of the Interweb. I hope I make it through my class and don’t die of humiliation!


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