It’s always something
It’s the first day of the “spring” semester. A crown popped off one of my back molars. Fortunately, the dentist was able to fit me in this morning (I’m about to leave for my appointment), so I should be okay in time for tonight’s Italian class. I’m so glad it’s not math!
I didn’t write much about the winter “intercession”. It was intense, a four-unit statistics class that would normally take 15 or 16 weeks, in five weeks. I sometimes felt that I was sitting in a public clinic at a charity hospital in a developing nation. The room, which was built to hold 35-40 students, was crammed full with 60. All around me people were constantly snuffling, sneezing, coughing, hacking and snorting. I should have worn a mask! Whatever it was, I caught it, and spent the fourth week sneezing, snuffling and coughing, feeling miserable. I spent mornings in class, and afternoons doing the homework. (Some courageous souls take two classes during these special sessions, but I don’t think I could do it.) I had tried to take this same class with a different teacher during last summer’s intercession, and found myself still working on the tedious, repetitive homework at 10pm, unable to get it all done. That guy was so boring I couldn’t stay awake in class, despite quadrupling my coffee ration, and half the time I had no idea what he was talking about. I dropped after three days. This time, the teacher was a pleasant, patient guy who explained everything well and didn’t go crazy with the homework. The tests weren’t too bad, except the final, which took me (and many of my fellow students) over three hours to complete. Everything worked out well, and at long last I have now completed all my math requirements.
Illustration from clipart.com
