Thursday, March 20, 2014

Five more weeks...

Every Tuesday night, part of my soul dies.

This semester has proven itself to be the worst of my educational career.  My collegiate pilgrimage, might I add, is proving to be the longest relationship I have ever had.

It's okay, because I truly love school.  Nothing makes me happier than a fresh college-ruled binder and a brand new black ball-point pen.  New folders, new sticky notes, new text books, new friends in new places, and new teachers to make me even more excited than I was the semester before.

I have thoroughly enjoyed every single second of my time in college...

Until now.

From the very first day of class on Tuesdays this semester, I knew that I was in trouble beyond trouble. 

I have a mouth. That is something that does not take a brain surgeon to grasp.  I like to openly express myself when I feel I am being mistreated or when I feel like you are being a dick.  Sometimes I just lack the filter portion of my brain and will openly say what I am thinking whether I am completely ostracized for it or not.
Even my daughter says "You know when you say the first thing that comes to your mind?  Normal people don't do that."
Thanks, Bird.

So this professor.  5'2", 172 years old, with a PhD from Yale.  He looks like he may have crawled out from underneath a pile of hippies at Woodstock.  The fact that he doesn't smell like Patchouli is utterly surprising.  On the first day of class he asked if anyone minded if he went barefoot. After slipping off his strappy sandals, he wandered around the classroom during his lecture with his toenails that look nothing shy of those greenish/yellow potato chips you sometimes find in the bag. Yes...Those.  And he looks like this:

This past week he told me "He should plan my demise." Also that I go around slandering Mormons and I just "can't do that."  I also know nothing about love if I don't know the true basis of where passion lies.  The guy is a complete nutter, yet I paid him $308 dollars to tell me I am stupid and above all, incompetent.  

I am willing to bet that I could pay a bunch of people $200 to do the same insulting. Maybe even $100.  That's a pretty good price for boosting one's self-esteem.

I've been counting down every week.
Five more weeks, five more weeks...
*Update: I got an A+, over the allotted percent in this class.  Phew.