Times that Try

It could take up to six more years to get all the degrees I need to do what I want to do. I've known that all along, but it's bothering me more this week. There's a good reason for that, though. Everyone on campus who has to turn in papers, present speeches, formulate argumentative theses, write exams, and all the rest of it are at a crisis point in the semester.
This is week seven (or so -- I'm too tired to go look at the calendar), when many students wonder exactly what they were on when they decided to take 12 credits of literature or 20 credits in structural engineering. I think I must have been insane. That's my reason, and I'm sticking to it.
Anyway, every student is finding at least two papers due on this week's planner; a good many students are having trouble understanding course work, too. This is the week when at least a few students will find their way to professors' offices, to plead for more time, slower explanations, or the mercy of God.
I'll be pleading with my doctor for more effective migraine medication, now that I've had three headaches in the past week.
The only thing that will resolve all this turmoil is next week, which is when amazing numbers of students find a light bulb going on in their brains. Even ethics and biotechnology become easier all of a sudden, after just a few more hours of homework -- and a few slower explanations.

Fall Semester is Finally Over

It's been a while since I posted, and I really have a great excuse: post-scholastic trauma disorder. I had no idea that finishing off a semester would be so exhausting. Although I only had two exams during finals week, the last exam was the toughest.

The Ethics exam brought our class together in a way that the group projects never did. We were meeting on a regular basis, comparing notes, looking at the mid-term exam answers, arguing about exactly what Aristotle said, in contrast to what Plato and Kant said, and generally working ourselves into a collective intellectual froth. Fortunately, Father Pratt let us bring a 4-by-6 card into the classroom for the test. I filled mine up with outlines for the essay questions, reminders for the definitions, and lots more in a font labelled "teeny-tiny." The only thing I had not figured on was writer's cramp, something that doesn't usually happen at the computer. I lost about five minutes of exam time trying to convince my right hand that it didn't want to cramp up before I finished writing the essays. I drove home that night with my left hand, and spent the days before Christmas recovering from the mental and physical stress.

Amazingly, I got an A in the class. Plus, the professor liked the term paper, but wants me to do some more work on it, for further use.

Since then, I've been to Seattle for two different Christmas celebrations, and I've hung around the house, catching up on bills, baking Christmas cookies, watching movies, and doing the cleaning that was suspended in the final weeks of fall semester. Fortunately, most people don't drop in when you live this far out of town, so the mess has been missed.

Spring semester is loitering on the horizon, of course. Books have already been assigned by two of the professors, so I've purchased them and tried to start on Mary, Queen of Scots, but my enthusiasm has been a little low. Perhaps older students need a deadline to get the reading done.