the first day of school...over!
Today was the first day of the spring semester. I dutifully logged into my online course (and will do so again later), and then at 7pm I had my British/Irish fiction class...AND I WAS LATE. I don't like being late, period. I typically arrive at class at least 10 minutes early. I got to class at 7:02, and ran out of the house so quickly that I didn't even tie my shoes. Since I parked and was walking to the building at 6:58, that left me with no time to get a coffee or a water. Argh! Of course, the prof didn't get there til 7:05, so I wasn't technically late and I could have gotten a drink. Double-argh! But my pal called and I was very happy to take that call and ramble on about things instead of leaving for school.
So, the course. There are seven people in it, and I was afraid they'd cancel it (it has room for 30) but they will not...which is good since I read half the damn books already! Three of us were in Victorian Lit together last semester, so we're buds now and were still
discussing Tess of the d'Urbervilles
and talking about how many of the books we've pre-read (I won; they had only read one or two whereas I read seven. Yay me.) and which we liked and which we didn't.
The other people in the course were: some quiet lady, a youngish girl whose contribution to the pre-class discussion was "Gee, I only watched TV over the break" and (to a fellow) "You're British? And you're taking a British fiction class? How funny!" Ok, I'll stop there for a moment. What the fuck? Does she think British people don't read British fiction? Or...hell, I don't know what she was thinking. Back to the classmates...there's the British fellow. More of a boy, really. Quiet. Seems smart. Took a lot of notes in precise handwriting. And then there's the large fellow who snores. I know he snores because HE WAS SNORING during the simple, one-hour filler lecture about the general trends for the early modernists. I mention he is large only because it makes him MORE NOTICEABLE when he is nodding off to sleep. He's going to have problems in the three-hour, once-per-week class, which is 90% prof lecturing even though it's supposed to be discussion. It's just that the prof is so damn funny/witty/knowledgeable that his stream-of-conscious lectures are far more relevant than whatever discussion we minions come up with.
I think I have some class buddies, though, because the three of us from Vict Lit are also taking American Novel on Tuesday nights. Neat!