It's beginning to look a lot like...the end of the semester!

What a pleasant surprise to wake up to snow today!  Granted, it was just a light dusting, but it was enough to put me in the holiday spirit.  Snow is a perfect beginning for the Christmas season, and we'll take what we can get in the way of snow 'round these parts.  The change in the weather reminds me of other changes coming...my son will be turning thirteen next month (yikes), classes are almost over with finals just around the corner, and the next semester holds a new adventure for me - graduate-level courses!  Yep, I finally got registered for two English classes.  One is a writing workshop, the other, "The Romantic Movement," a literature course.  One writing, one literature seems to be a good balance, but I still don't know if it's a good idea (for me) to have two classes at once.  Right now, I can only work after about nine p.m. because that's when my kids are asleep.  It's hard to give your best when you're quite sleepy.  I'm sure some of my discussion board responses this semester have been a little hard to follow because I was only about 80% coherent as a result of sleep deprivation when I wrote them.  Next semester, however, will be a bit different.  For the first time in several years, I'll have to actually go to campus, park my car (sigh), and walk to a real building for class.  That may or may not work to my advantage.  Either way, I must admit to a bit of nervousness about this new venture.  I'm planning to pursue a Master's in English, and I hope anyone who may read this doesn't think "Girl, I've read your writing.  English?  Are you kidding?"  No, I'm not kidding.  English has always been easy for me, and while many subjects were fun, English is the one I always come back to when I consider my favorite classes.  So, I'm probably pretty rusty right now, as you may have noticed.  However, I really think this is the right path for me.  Since becoming an adult (legally, fourteen years ago; mentally, considerably later), I have said many times and for various reasons that had I just taken my dad's advice, things would have turned out much better.  My dad advised me when I first started college and was trying to choose a major just to pick something I like, not to worry about what job I think that major will or won't produce.  Well, as we adults all know, that's SOOOO true.  If I had listened at the time, instead of thinking, "I really love English, but I don't want to be a teacher...." I would never have become involved in the BIS program.  I might have had a clear path to graduation and not taken so long to finish up (this, of course, is debatable).  On the other hand, I would not have taken so many really cool classes, I wouldn't be able to speak Spanish (stilted and slow though my speech may be), and I would have missed out on a lot of really cool experiences along the way.  By studying "Humanities" instead of narrowing my focus to simply "English," I gave myself a broader lens for viewing the world.  I will be able to grow old more gracefully because I understand and will not buy into our society's image of beauty that tries to keep women powerless, thanks to "Psychology of Women," among others.  I know how to do a decent charcoal drawing and discuss the difference between Impressionism and Cubism because of my Art Classes.  And, I understand that the way our country structures its involvement in world affairs is nothing new thanks to my history classes.  I am glad I chose the path I did, and now I'm glad to have a more focused path ahead of me.  Looking back, I still think ol' Dad's advice was good.   For me, though, the time just wasn't right to settle down and study one subject.  I needed some time to figure "me" out first.  I guess after twelve years it's about time make the commitment and give my loyalty to my first love, academically speaking.  English, I'm all yours. 

I love registering for classes.  I usually start well in advance of the first actual registration date, searching through the available courses, taking detailed notes about the ones I might like.  I've always gotten excited about choosing classes, especially in the early days of my college career.  Back then, I'd trek over to Potter Hall and pick up my bulletin, hot off the press, its ink staining my hands.  I could hardly wait to bust out the highlighter and start choosing my classes.  First, of course, I'd highlight my "priority registration date" and commit it to memory.  When the big day arrived, I'd hit the phones - yep, we did it by phone - as early as possible to avoid the dreaded busy signal.  I can't believe that's the way we used to register.  Imagine before that, some students actually doing it - heaven forbid - on paper?!?!  The horror.  Obviously I am the type who prefers to hide in her cave and avoid human contact, so online classes are perfect for me.  I was hooked after my first one, Human Nutrition, but I didn't really take many more until I switched my major to Interdisciplinary Studies.  Before that I was a Spanish Major and there's not much you can do with that online.  Back to the registration, though.  This semester I was especially excited about choosing classes, because I planned to register for my first graduate courses!  Browsing through the available classes, I realized my long stint with online education would be coming to a close.  Even that couldn't dampen my enthusiasm, though, as I clicked the button that would place me on the roster of a 500-level course!  What did dampen my enthusiasm was the message from Topnet that I am not allowed to register for these classes.  What?  Why?  I meet the requirements; I can do it, I promise!  I'll pay attention to my due dates and plan thoughtful responses before I speak up in class.  I'll act like a grad student, really!  I'm definitely old enough to be a grad student.  Ha.  So, I contacted the head of the English department, though looking back, that seems like a silly place to start.  She directed me to the Graduate Studies Department.  The nice person who answers the phone there told me I have to apply for admission to Graduate Studies as a non-degree seeking student.  Then I'll be able to register for the classes I want.  So I'm getting closer to being able to register.  Now if I can just make it through this semester...

Beelzebub's Got Nothin' on Me

Last weekend was a bust. It actually started around Thursday, carried on through the weekend and did manage to lighten up a bit during this past week.  I felt edgy, grumpy and unfocused.  I could blame hormones, I guess, but countless other women are out there functioning every day, hormones and all.  I suppose it's just me.  I was in enough of a funk that I just could not answer my discussion board question, the one I was really kind of excited about at first because it was a topic I wanted to discuss.  We're reading Paradise Lost right now; not exactly light reading, but I felt prepared.  So why did it take me THREE HOURS to explain how the demons' natures are revealed in their speeches?  I kept doing it over and over again, and when I'd finally eked out a puny, barely 200-word response (I needed 300 words), I clicked submit to find that I'd been logged out.  GRRRR.  The joys of online classes.  I was feeling a little like a demon myself at this point.  I believe that was Friday night.  Saturday night, too late to do anything about it, I reviewed my course schedule for the seven thousandth time to discover that I had a paper due - the next day.  Actually, the due date was Monday at noon, but that means Sunday night for me.  There's no way I'm getting anything done on a Monday morning that doesn't involve finger foods, crayons, or potty training.  So, my plan to go to the library the next day never materialized, much like most of my weekend plans.  Sometimes I almost long for weekdays just so I know what to expect - wow, that's terrible.  Sunday night I began searching for articles without much luck.  I still had that feeling of treading water but barely keeping my head up that I was feeling while trying to do the Paradise Lost post Friday night.  Finally, at about one in the morning, with NOTHING accomplished, I emailed my professor to let her know what was going on and that she might not see a paper from me.  I calculated my grade and discovered that if I didn't submit the paper my grade would go from a low "A" to a high "D".  Ick.  I need a B in this class to make it count toward admission to Graduate Studies in English.  It's not going to look too good for me to have a "D" in an English Class if I want to get a Master's in English, now, is it?  Anyway, the email to my professor was probably some ridiculous, groveling epistle.  I'm not sure because I've blocked it from my memory.  She kindly responded to my email the next morning that a recent announcement on Blackboard informed the class that the paper's due date had been changed to nearly two weeks later.  Hallelujah, and man, do I look stupid.  Oh well, better to look stupid and still have an "A," right?  Note to self: write revisions on class calendar next time, and start projects well in advance, in case of temporary mental lapses.

Is not this incorrect?

My Advanced Composition classmates and I are in the middle of revisions for our second paper of the semester.  We're required to critique/edit our group members' work in the second round of the process.  The class followed the same procedure for the first paper earlier this semester, when one of my proofreaders suggested, or instructed, I refrain from using contractions.  She went so far as to point out, in red, each of the contractions in my paper so I could eliminate them.  The issue came up again on Paper 2, and I decided to confront it.  I asked the red inker, and another of my fellow group members who seemed to be anti-contraction as well, why they don't use contractions.  Since I haven't had a writing class in several years, it was very possible I was missing something here.  I got one response.  My classmate said that her last writing teacher likened the use of contractions to writing with abbreviations and acronyms like WTF or OMG because it slows down the flow of the writing.  Sorry, I fail to see the similarity there.  Actually, I think it has the opposite effect when you don't use contractions at all.  It sounds stiff and fake, like the quote one of the aforementioned classmates used in her paper: "It is okay"  That was a mother comforting her daughter - a real mom, not a robot.  It just doesn't sound right to me.  I realize I probably should not - SHOULDN'T - be so bothered by this, but I am.  If these gals are right, though I'm pretty sure they're not, it will affect everything I write from now on.  So, I researched a little, checked the OWL, and only found any question about it when writing business or formal material.  Even then it's best to use some contractions, "judiciously," I believe they said, and when it prevents the piece sounding too stilted and formal.  I suppose I'll post something on the topic in the "questions and answers" folder on discussion board and see what the instructor says.  I could just let it go, but I'm unlikely to do so until someone tells me (and maybe my classmates) that I'm right.  ; )

Nah-nah-na, boo-boo! I'm busier than you are!

May I just rant for a moment?  This has been bothering me for the better part of my loooooooong college career.  College KIDS.  I know that I am truly a grown-up now, because I want to just grab up some of the younger students in my classes, shake them a little, and say "Wake up, whippersnapper!!"  Hell, if I said that, not only would I be an official grownup, I'd be eligible for senior citizen discounts.  Anyway, this anger toward my younger classmates is directed at the few who shirk their responsibilities to the group.  The two online courses I'm in this semester require a lot of group interaction.  To make up for slacking, these guys post a lame apology with excuses about how many hours they had to work last week, how little sleep they got, blah, blah, blah.  I want to tell them how when you have kids, you're never off work.  You never get any sleep, because you're working then, too.  Know why? Because little kids don't sleep!  They crawl into your bed all night long or call you in for drinks of water and back scratches at three in the morning.  I want to tell them, "You're not really busy at all - just wait!"  Of course, I don't tell them. Because someday, if they're as lucky as I am, they'll find out for themselves.