sometimes my brain takes the slow boat
On Tuesday nights, my AmNovel class meets from 7-945pm. The class before it is a grad seminar (Romanticism, and I know this because I often am early for my class and I sit outside and listen to the lecture) and I remember at one point thinking "I wonder who that prof is, because he seems like a pleasant man." Of course, my "conversations" with him have been limited to the following statements, made on different days: "This is Dr. English's AmNovel class," "Thanks for the leftover cookies," and "Does this stack of papers belong to you? The biz students will shred them." (The class is in the Business building)
As I was just thinking about classes next week, I remembered to go look at the schedule to figure out the prof's name. It's "Paul Douglass," which means nothing to you, but what it means to me is "the graduate coordinator, to whom I must hand my essay in approx. 2 weeks." Yeah, good to know. Guess I don't have to email him with a question, I can just ask him during classroom-change chit-chat.
S L O W.
