25 + 10 points
Going to School by lark
April 1st, 2007 12:27 PM
Well... I meant to submit this awhile ago, before the score reset (along with a bunch of other small tasks)... but better late than never.
Midweek at Burning Man last year I was struck with an overwhelming desire to return to school. As I stared at Camp Disarray's warm-hued dome, it came to me that I had enjoyed quite enough of my little rumspringa (both in the desert and during a few semesters off at home), and that I was absolutely going to start school again fall term - only a few days away.
Exhausted and with a bit of dust remaining in my awful-as-Kate-Winslet's-coiffure-in-that-Eternal-Sunshine-movie pink hair, I returned to the University a day late and a dollar (or several thousand of those, actually) short.
As this was more of a 'leap and the net will appear' scenario instead of my usual 'plan things to the nth degree' style, I soon found out that I had an old hold on my record preventing me from registering for classes. However, with the permission of my professors and instructors, I continued to take classes while I sent multiple appeals across several levels of bureau'crazy'. It took - no exaggeration - the length of the entire semester to remove the hold.
As a final kick in the pants, on the last day of classes (effectively the last day of registration), my hold cleared, allowing me to register. However, on the same day, my Application for Readmission (approved 16 weeks earlier) expired, again thwarting my registration.
There was no joy in Mudville. To all the professors and instructors that I had repeatedly told, "Registration is happening soon! I swear!" for months, I seemed both a liar and a fake.
So, I studied hard, took good notes, and earned excellent grades during a challenging, 21-credit semester which may never be successfully realized in the form of happy little letters on my official transcript. However, in one semester I learned an astonishing amount within my discipline and about myself. I joyfully embraced the sublime and terrifying amount of knowledge and theory out there that I haven't yet learned or even stumbled upon yet, conquered (in some small part) my fear of writing papers, and decided that I want to go to graduate school and become a professor in this field (yes, even though there are no jobs and the loans are... well, let's not think about the loans).
Like any 'After-School Special' worth its celluloid, I reinforced my belief that oftentimes the most important learning doesn't receive credit or external recognition.
Oh, and I learned that it's really, truly awful to be simultaneously afflicted with:
1. A huge crush on a graduate instructor
2. In a class where you talk a lot about sex
3. A blushing problem
Midweek at Burning Man last year I was struck with an overwhelming desire to return to school. As I stared at Camp Disarray's warm-hued dome, it came to me that I had enjoyed quite enough of my little rumspringa (both in the desert and during a few semesters off at home), and that I was absolutely going to start school again fall term - only a few days away.
Exhausted and with a bit of dust remaining in my awful-as-Kate-Winslet's-coiffure-in-that-Eternal-Sunshine-movie pink hair, I returned to the University a day late and a dollar (or several thousand of those, actually) short.
As this was more of a 'leap and the net will appear' scenario instead of my usual 'plan things to the nth degree' style, I soon found out that I had an old hold on my record preventing me from registering for classes. However, with the permission of my professors and instructors, I continued to take classes while I sent multiple appeals across several levels of bureau'crazy'. It took - no exaggeration - the length of the entire semester to remove the hold.
As a final kick in the pants, on the last day of classes (effectively the last day of registration), my hold cleared, allowing me to register. However, on the same day, my Application for Readmission (approved 16 weeks earlier) expired, again thwarting my registration.
There was no joy in Mudville. To all the professors and instructors that I had repeatedly told, "Registration is happening soon! I swear!" for months, I seemed both a liar and a fake.
So, I studied hard, took good notes, and earned excellent grades during a challenging, 21-credit semester which may never be successfully realized in the form of happy little letters on my official transcript. However, in one semester I learned an astonishing amount within my discipline and about myself. I joyfully embraced the sublime and terrifying amount of knowledge and theory out there that I haven't yet learned or even stumbled upon yet, conquered (in some small part) my fear of writing papers, and decided that I want to go to graduate school and become a professor in this field (yes, even though there are no jobs and the loans are... well, let's not think about the loans).
Like any 'After-School Special' worth its celluloid, I reinforced my belief that oftentimes the most important learning doesn't receive credit or external recognition.
Oh, and I learned that it's really, truly awful to be simultaneously afflicted with:
1. A huge crush on a graduate instructor
2. In a class where you talk a lot about sex
3. A blushing problem
holy kachow, that's a lot of work for no credit! surely that more than fulfills the strictures of the task.