Things I Learned in Seven Years of College

I did something similar to this when I finished my two semesters of Spanish and I was surprised by the long list.  So here goes. 

Things I learned in seven years of college:

There is a huge difference between the two-year and four-year schools.  Not just in classes, but in students and teachers.  I really enjoyed being at UW Sheboygan, but not so much at UWM.  I made friends at UWM, and I liked most of my classes, but it was more exhausting and emotionally draining. 

There is never enough time to study.

I hate carrying backpacks.

I really do love libraries.

Test anxiety sucks.

Older younglings don't like cookies as much as the younger younglings, but when they think no one is watching they will wolf down a half-dozen cookies without blinking an eye.

I have favorite teachers that I'll miss seeing, and feel a bit sad that I can't be friends with them.  Time, distance, circumstances all get in the way.

I don't mind writing papers.  Guess being an English major was a good choice.

I still suck at Spanish and am thankful that I took it at UW Sheboygan (Thank you Kyle).  I don't think I would have made it through at UWM.

I actually kinda like Shakespeare (Thank you Mark).

I really liked writing creative non-fiction (Thank you Carolyn).

I have found a new well of motivation I didn't realize I had.  Not to mention finally... finally being able to put to rest dropping out of college.  Not only will I graduate, but I will graduate with Commencement Honors and Honors in the Major.  Take that 1986 self.

Seven years is a long time.  I may be seven years older, and seven years grayer, but I'm so glad I stuck with it.  In re-reading some of my blogs about not continuing on after UW Sheboygan, I'm so glad that I didn't give in to the exhaustion of the moment.  I still have three large projects to finish yet, but then that's it.  I'm done.  And that, my friends, is all she wrote.

The Last Two Weeks

It is the last two weeks of school.  I'm anxious for it to be over and not as sad as I thought I was going to be.  My perspective is very different from the younglings who are graduating, but I'm looking forward to just working an 8 hour day and then having some time to concentrate on my home, our possible building a new home, and all the crap that goes with building and moving.  No lot yet, but we are still going back and forth with offers and counter-offers. 

I have two massive projects I need to finish for school yet.  Fifteen pages for my fiction class, and the comprehensive editing project for tech editing.  And, I have no motivation to finish either one.  But, I will, I always do, and it is part of being an adult.  You finish what you start.  I ended up not liking the fiction class as much as I thought I was going to.  I know now that type of writing is not what I want to do and that I really do have a talent for creative non-fiction.  I'll stick with that.  And, even though I will use my editing skills in all my future work, I really don't want to be an editor, either.  I'm very thankful that I have a job I like, and I've come to realize that I really don't want to leave pharmacy. 

I'm writing stuff for the department now because our accreditation for Joint Commission requires us to write EVERYTHING down.  That's going to take some time and then it has to be updated continually.  I will inherit that job because it seems a natural fit.  I don't mind.

Scott and I have decided to have a combined graduation/anniversary party on June 6th.  It seemed silly to have two parties and invite the same people again.  So, I'm calling it the granniversary party and it will be my graduation and our 25th wedding anniversary party.  We are having it in a park and I hope it doesn't rain.  Should be fun and even though it will be a lot of work, I'm really looking forward to it. 

Well, that's enough of my boring blog.  I really need to get to writing my story for Eng 415.  I just need a big burst of motivation and that will be that.  After seven years of high motivation, it gets more difficult to dig that deep.  Two weeks...  Two weeks.

Week 10

It is week 10 already.  I always keep count of the weeks of the semester, mainly because homework is easily managed in weekly chunks.  Beyond that, however, is a psychological boost for me because I assign week 10 as my I-think-I'm-going-to-make-it week.  Since the start of school and their regimented weekly schedules, there is something about this week that changes everything.  For one, it is usually the first week past the final date for dropping a class.  It's almost as if the students realize they will have to finish it now and for some, just relax and go with it.  I'm one of those students.  I know I'm locked in at this point unless something so drastic happens that I need to put the class on academic hold.  It would have to be a medical or family issue as I can't think of anything else that would qualify for doing that.  In any case, I know there are six weeks left in the semester and I have an idea of how I'm doing and what will be needed to finish strong.

My friend Natalie said to me the other night that I'm so much more relaxed this semester than any other she's seen me go through yet.  I agreed with her, and said that it just feels different knowing it is my last semester.  I know this is it and when I finish I will have done something worth while (to me, anyway) and that I did my best.  I got the official word that I will be graduating with Commencement Honors and I'm absolutely thrilled with that.  One of my goals in coming back to college was that not only was I going to finish my bachelor's, but I was going to excel.  I really wanted to make the Dean's List, but UWM doesn't recognize part-time students for that honor.  I think that really, really sucks.  But, I'll settle for graduating with Honors. 

I can't wait to graduate. It has been a long struggle, both for me and for Scott.  We have started serious talk of building a house again, and I think he was waiting for me to finish school so that he didn't have to go it alone.  I kept saying I would help, but homework comes first.  But, I'll be done soon and I won't have to face several hours of homework after a day of working anymore, too.  I won't miss that one bit.  And, I have so many projects lined up that I don't even know where to start.  I have so much cleaning and organizing to do, it feels a bit overwhelming.  But, keep your fingers crossed, maybe those projects will turn into cleaning, sorting, and PACKING!  We are looking at a lot that we saw months ago and are debating whether to put a bid in or not.  I hope we will as it's a really nice lot and we can offer with contingencies that should prevent us from getting into a money trap.  We just have to make the call.  Kinda scary, but it's time.  We've been looking for 10 years now.  The house we are in was supposed to be a starter home, and it is, but we need something more custom for us now.

With any luck I'll be jumping from the pan of school into the fire of building a new house.  Rest?  I don't need no stinkin' rest....  anybody got some tape and boxes?

The Start of the End

I started my last semester of college this past Monday.  God-willing, I will finish in May.  Graduation is May 17, 2015 at 9:00a.m.  I am eager to finish, and have begun to think of life in terms of before and after college.  As in next Christmas should be less stressful because I won't have finals two days before Christmas Eve and I can get my baking, shopping, and decorating done  like other normal people.  I won't have to be in summer school this year and maybe, just maybe, I can work in  my yard more and make it look much better.  And, maybe, just maybe, I can get the garage cleaned out, too.  Yeah, we'll see about that.

I'm taking two classes this semester, Eng 444 Technical Editing and Eng 415 Fiction Writing Workshop.  I need Eng 444 for my last credits for my major and Eng 415 is my last elective.  I decided in a fit of fancy to take a fiction writing class because it was so different from tech writing and because I thought it was going to be fun.  I really should have thought about that because there are few classes in college that are fun.  We meet once a week, on Thursdays, so this last Thursday was our first class.

I don't know anyone in this grouping because I'm not in that track for the English major.  A few kids knew each other, just the same as I know quite a few in my technical/professional writing (TPW) circle.  We travel in packs at this point.  I am the only TPW in this class, and I should have realized that.  Anyway...  Most of the kids, and yes, they are kids, are about half-way through to thier varying degrees in fiction writing, poetry, and literature studies.  They are clearly of a different mind-set than I am, but that can be fine.  I've had these types before.  What I didn't expect, was the level of snobbery and narcissism from a few of them.

As I mentioned, Thursday was our first class.  After all the perfunctory stuff, the teacher had us read a sample of a student's writing and he wanted our feedback.  He chose me first to give that feedback.  I've been taught from day one of TPW to give good feedback before constructive criticism.  So I did.  I explained what I liked about the piece, and I did like the piece, and then a few suggestions for improvement.  I wanted to know more in-depth details about the characters, a more detailed plot line, and less "bogginess" in some of the more adjective heavy descriptions.  Nothing that I felt was horrible or mean-spirited.  After I had finished, the hipster-doofus emo kid told me I was completely wrong, he didn't agree with me at all, and that I was "lacking in understanding of what good fiction is."  Oooookaaaayyyyy.  I didn't reply to him because I didn't trust what would have come out of my mouth.  Despite his youth and rudness, he is entitled to his opinion.  I felt he was extremely rude and uncivil, but he had the right to state what he did.  But then, some of the other younglings started to trash the piece (thankfully, not me) and just like sharks who smell blood, they pounced on this poor story and ripped it to shreds.

I was bothered by how vehemently they tore the piece apart.  As I sat there thinking I had made a huge mistake, I got the thought that the teacher had written this story.  He kept saying that they were being a little too harsh, that the writer wanted nothing more than to entertain them, and that he was a human being with feelings, too.  It was at that point I fully realized what he was doing.  This is a workshop class meaning all of us will submit work for class discussion.  There is a right way and a wrong way to give criticism, and he was teaching us a lesson.  Half the class didn't even say anything.  After the blood-bath abated, he turned to me and asked if I wanted to change my opinion.  I said no, I stand by what I said, and that I didn't feel it was as bad as what the others were saying it was.  With some small revisions, it would be a good story.  That's all fiction should ever really be.

He took a deep breath and told them that what had happened would never happen again.  This was an early piece he had written when he was in college (he's probably in his late 50's or early 60's) and that everyone should take notice of how I gave my criticism in that it was the correct way to give feedback.  You could have heard a pin drop from several floors below.  All these kids who were flaming on the piece were in shock.  I'm not sure why they didn't think of him as the author to begin with, but I blame the internet for what they did.  Let me explain.

On any forum, discussion group, or other sites, people feel they can trash-talk, flame, yell, saying incredibly mean things and other bad behavior because they are not face-to-face with the person they are criticizing.  They are so used to just saying, "it sucks" with no reasoning, that is how they give feedback.  Now they are in a class setting and just like any forum, one right after another, ganged up and fed off of hipster doofus' rant against me.  No civility, no recognition of the writer as a human being with human feelings, and no realization that they too will be under the microscope in the context of this class.  No golden rule here.  They just trashed with the arrogance that their writing is going to be prefect.  It never occurred to them that some one will be doing the exact same thing to them.  I'm not sure why they haven't learned to give appropriate feedback at this point in college, but I'm guessing it's because they haven't finished their upper level classes yet where they will be judged on their work.

I'm not so sure I want to take this class now.  I thought it would be a good compliment to my technical editing, but I think I prefer the world of grammar, punctuation, and sentence structure.  We are at least a little more civil to each other.  Maybe this is why writers are so very often loners.

Marathon baking and other Christmas miracles

I am a marathon baker.  Other people run or walk marathons, I stand in a hot kitchen the day before Christmas Eve and bake like a maniac.  I'm not sure when this started, but I can remember from little kid to now, I've always baked or helped bake at Christmas.  The past several years, I've had some real motivational issues with getting my baking done, and thus, the marathon baking session was born.

Before I went back to college, I'd have plenty of time to get the house decorated, do my baking, wrap presents, and all the other stuff that goes with Christmas.  As a kid, I'd decorate my room in addition to helping with the house decorations and I'd help my mother bake all the good stuff, and even the fruitcake.  (I had to stir the concoction because it was too thick for my mom to stir it.)  Then, when I got married, I suddenly had two households to help.  My family and extended family was really shrinking by then, so we didn't have many presents to buy for my side...  but Scott's side was really extended.  At one point, we had over 30 people to buy for on his side.  No names pulled, no gift cards, nothing but an actual present.  Those were hard years for shopping, and this was before the internet.  No Amazon back then...

However, time passes and slowly his family has diminished, just like mine.  We now have a small group of people to buy for, around five or six, and I buy gift cards for my sister's family.  The biggest consideration I have now are my four very closest friends.  But I digress...  The past seven Christmases have been plagued with finals from school.  I feel this has led me to a lower motivational baking and cooking drive.  Once I'm done with school for the semester, then the guilt of not doing anything for Christmas hits me full force and the next thing I know I'm spending 12 to 14 hours in the kitchen making cookies, bars, and other goodies for Christmas.  In recent years, I've also had to deal with cleaning and clearing the dining room and kitchen from a semester's worth of neglect and Black Friday shopping carnage.  Usually Black Friday yields Christmas presents, so it's not a total loss of time.

2014 was no different other than I really had a problem getting motivated.  I just couldn't even get the slightest energy for baking going, and my poor husband was searching for the easiest recipes he could find for me.  He usually makes fudge, toffee, and some other candy items, and it's a good mix between us.  Cookies and bars from me, candy from him.  So, on the 23rd, my Christmas miracle of getting my baking done, I pushed myself hard and baked.  For 12 hours straight, I baked.  Maybe this is why I don't like to do it anymore, but once on a roll, I didn't want to stop.  I got what I wanted to bake done, and that was it.  Scott made his stuff after I did so it was around 2 in the morning when we were finally done.  A big sigh of relief and hopefully next year, a year without school in December, I won't be baking for 12 hours straight.  I also won't have a 15 page paper due for my seminar class, and two other 7 page papers due for the other class.  I had some motivational issues there, too, but I got A's in both classes, so apparently I did ok.  2015 brings one semester left for school, and then I graduate.  Finally. And what a long, long trip it's been.

Merry Christmas to anyone reading this yet.  I hope you have a wonderful, miracle-filled Christmas day, and a very, very happy New Year.  You've earned it if you are still reading these blogs....

Expectations and Extensions

As I sat down this morning to finish three papers for school, I was a bit shocked to see the my Eng 621 deadline has been moved to Thursday instead of Monday.  Now, I understand why people need extensions, but we knew about this project from Day 1 of class.  The professor gave us the assignment and specifications the Monday before Thanksgiving.  Mostly because I asked him if I could work on it over the holiday because I had off of work and I wasn't making a meal.  Perfect time to do research, refine ideas for a thesis, and generally get the ball rolling on a senior capstone project of 12 to 15 pages on The Global Early Modern.  When I checked my school email this morning, my professor wrote that he's given so many extensions out that he just decided to move the deadline.  There are only 11 people in this class.  I know that three of them for sure asked for later deadlines and when I met with him on Wednesday he said that one of my classmates had met with him earlier to DISCUSS topics.  Really?  Really!?  I looked at him and said, college is sometimes wasted on the younglings.  I work a full-time job, run the household, all the errands, and still fit six credits of upper level classes into my life.  The difference is, I know how to plan and parcel my time.  My youngling classmates, however, think they can just produce a paper, and not just any paper, but a senior capstone thesis paper, in a day.  Write it the  night before.  I hope that at some point, they learn a lesson here, but I'm not sure that they do.  I'm a bit angry because I dedicated three full weekends to just WRITING this paper.

I only need to write 3 more pages, expand some sections, clarify a few points, and proof and polish.  I worked my butt off to get to this point and yet my youngling classmates were screwing around doing whatever they felt like and then come begging for more time because the professor is nice enough to give them that time.  They are taking advantage of him because he's a nice guy.  I'm a bit angry because that's not respectful to do that, and they should know better at this point how that is not a decent thing to be doing.  Our future will be run buy these kids that know more about working the system than actually working with the system.

I will hand my paper in at the first deadline.  Then, I will concentrate on getting my house in order because it was a busy semester and there's a lot that needs to be done.  I'd actually like to put a Christmas tree up this year because I miss it.  We haven't had one for the past few years, and it's a bit depressing to not have one, I think.  I also just want to be done.  I'm tired, a bit run-down, and need to recharge a bit.  I want to work on my chain maille projects that are building up in my room begging me to work on them.  I want to clean my room so I can move around in it without playing out Godzilla and knocking stuff over when I try to walk around in here.  So, with that said and vented, I'm off to finish my THREE papers by tomorrow evening.  I even want to email them a day before the deadline in case they don't get them so I can email again, or (Heaven forbid) take paper copies to them on Monday.  I bet those younglings don't even consider what would happen if they couldn't email their papers...  

Mood

To quote Gurney Halleck from "Dune", "Mood's a thing for cattle and love-play."  Gurney then goes on to teach Paul a lesson in hand-to-hand combat.  I'm in a "mood" this morning, one that could be described as irritated and annoyed.  It was a long week, I had a few instances where people just want to argue with me, and I'm tired of doing homework.  I'm a bit fed-up with my Composing Process class, and I feel that I'm not only learning nothing really new, but the view into what the youngling teachers learn is doing nothing for my perception of the profession.

This past week we had to read about how teachers teach to "children of color" (their words, not mine) and poor children.  The point was that white people are privileged and have a culture of power because English is the common language.  The papers and class argued that for COC and the poor, apparently they don't speak English in the same way and therefore are disadvantaged because of not being able to communicate on that same level.  We were instructed to pair up with a classmate and then we were put into larger groups after that and then we discussed as a class.  Nowhere in the entire night's class did we discuss writing other than these kids need to be handled differently because they don't speak English.

The person I paired up with wouldn't let me speak.  My sentence was this..." If they speak street jargon..." and then she would interrupt and say, "but it isn't street jargon to them."  To which I would reply, "yes, but to the interviewer it is.  If they speak street jargon..." and she'd cut me off and say, "you keep saying that, but it isn't jargon to them."  and I'd reply my see above answer and would then try to make my point.  She kept cutting me off instead of listening to what I was going to say.  The majority of the class decided that these kids are disadvantaged because need to learn two languages.  Their own and standard English.  And then they also decided that standard English speakers need to learn "their" language.  I was done talking at this point because I had just spent a half-hour with my classmate and the group and listening to their kumbyeya moment of how we should just all speak everyone's language with no regard to the rules of language.  Young, idealistic, and idiotic.

Kyle, this one's for you.  I then brought up the term "lingua franca" for the younglings and told them how my Spanish teacher told me that I had no reason to fear that English would ever be replaced by Spanish.  (I had told him that I'd be in trouble if English ever did get replaced by Spanish) He's right.  It won't be replaced by Spanish, it will be replaced with whatever-you-feel-like-saying lingo.  I'm convinced that these self-centered and self-righteous Millennials will no doubt educated the future generations that whatever you believe is just fine.  Who cares if there are rules because they are just meant to be broken and our way is the better way!  One girl in class came very close to saying this, everything up to the point of "our way is the better way!"

I get it.  I understand that everyone has a different level of language skills.  However, at some point there needs to be a common core of basic skills that will enable everyone to communicate on some level or things will just de-volve into chaos.  Expecting children to at least be able to follow commands and communicate back is not too much to ask.  It is probably a good thing that I won't be going into teaching.  While I think teaching is important, I don't think I'd survive the process of becoming a teacher.  If I'm irritated at this level, I can't imagine what the rest of the classes are like.  I'd be that angry teacher no one likes.  I'm still irritated at this class.  And with that, I need to go do the homework for it.  Yeah....