First Day of School

My first impression of school was that I was in a very bad '70s Angie Dickinson movie.

Here I was, in the wee hours of the morning, being transported to an all women's prison. At least the so called Tram TSU provides for us commuters exiled to parking Siberia is reminiscent of a prison bus. Old ugly green seats, rattling wheezing engine, a paint job that has seen better days 10 years ago. The 100% humidity that morning curdled first my bangs and then the windows...nothing but pockmarks of muddy dew obstructing my view. I'm bouncing up and down at an alarming rate, for the first time in life giving full kudos to underwire.

I am surreptitiously marking our stops on the bus map I so anally printed up the night before. I'm having busing panic attacks. Gah! What is that on my seat, did it just wink at me? Do I pull the little cord when my stop is coming up, I'm trying to count off the stops, but he's not stopping at all of them...I can't see through the windows, I may be halfway to Nuevo Laredo for all I know! How do I know when it's my stop? I'm too embarrassed to speak up and say "where the hell am I?" Am I going to helplessly ride around in circles all day like a senior citizen escaped from the home...become the mad cackling bus lady with the limp bangs? I'm an adult, I shouldn't have to ask where I am!! I realize I am acting like a man, and an adult actually WOULD ask for directions.

Finally, I shout out to the driver, "Can you tell me when we get to the Commons?" The federal work-study student driver says, "uhh, this is it right here." SCREEEEEECH.

Also a bad sign during a bathroom break. I'm sitting in an empty bathroom, realizing that silence does have an echo (it's still early remember), when the light goes out. Other then appealing to my school girl slasher heebie-jeebies, this is just not a good start to the day. I can't help but wonder what the people out in the hall were thinking when they heard a high pitched voice from inside the bathroom yell, "What the HELL?!"

Stupid motion detector lights.

One thing I picked up about English classes on my first day is that they're heavy in the Estrogen. In both of my Lit classes, practically everyone walking through the door had breasts. We averaged about3 males, and I wonder if they're happy or freaked by it. A true test of a man is whether his manliness will shrink up in a room full of females. I'm thinking a 2:1 shrivel ratio by the looks of horror on their faces as they walk in the door.

An interesting point: most of the people in my lit classes are not English majors. In fact, most of them are Communications major, which DH has pointed out has become the new "Liberal Arts" degree (aka "oh god don't let me graduate too soon b/c I don't know what else to do"). I'm surprised by the lack of English majors in these classes, these courses are solidly in the 3000's . Aren't "required courses" people supposed to be flocking to "Literature you Already Studied in High School 101"? This morning, the people mostly look suspicious. I'm starting to feel sorry for the teacher.

Wait hold that thought. Not feeling so sorry for the teacher anymore. When the hell did College level English teachers start requiring presentations? Somewhere in my 10 year absence from them, we've gone from artsy nerds writing about and having spirited elevated discussions, to five minute speeches on the use of Light in the Scarlet Letter (or whatever equally terrifying subject you choose.) The only thing I can imagine that would cause this change in format is a) some "justifying their funding" doctorate program of the new millennium convinced these profs that students benefit from the experience and self-confidence one gains from trying desperately not to spray the front row while saying "stanza" or b) profs have learned that for every presentation they require, that's one less day they have to stand up there.

Then there is my psych class...definitely a whirl of judgment there. This is an Intro class, and as such is highly peppered with freshmen and sophomore. You can tell this, b/c when our professor asked, "does anyone smoke?" only one person raised their hand. All around me, I heard voices under breaths, whispering, "liar!" I guess these poor kids still think a teacher's job is to rat them out to their parents.

Perhaps I've just got a negative skew on the whole thing, but so far I'm concerned about my classes. Most of the attendees seem to be resent the fact that they are there at all. We're awash in faces staring and blank in response to witty sarcastic professor remarks, just a sad scant few amused snort's in the background keeping the teacher from leaping out the window.

I have to remind myself that the days leading up to "drop" day separates the wheat from the chaff, but so far I've felt something of a let down. I will try to remain hopeful that some of these people will show something other then the whites of their eyes as they roll them perilously far into the back of their skulls.

And at the very least, it could mean an easier "A" from a prof who is just grateful to know someone is their class is among the living.