A community college is such an eclectic mix of people. A beard like Jesus here, a woman with a cane there, a middle aged Mom looking lost and insecure, a gaggle of young adults all speaking in frantic sign language in the hall, a cluster of 19-year-olds that seem overwhelmed by life and each other...its interesting just walking in the door. A whole other world of community, tolerance, a place where being different is encouraged and embraced.
Statistics class continues to go remarkably well. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. I got a 93 on my first exam, which blew me away, as did the murmured "Veddy Goot" the instructor gave me as he handed me my test back. You'd think I was in fourth grade again, where a kind word from the teacher means so much. I had to work hard not to preen. Most of the class did not do that well. Last night, the instructor opened the class with the announcement that what he was going to be teaching was very important...and if we didn't understand it, we need to drop the class, as we will not understand the rest of the class if we don't understand this. Daunting to say the least, and I was a note-taking fool. But so far what he taught is very understandable to me. I am convinced half the problem with the low grades much of the class is getting results from the excessive socializing and flirting going on (lots of young'uns in this class), the hope for curves and extensions (has not happened yet and sounds not likely to) and an anticipation that this is going to be excessively difficult. I fear it will be excessively difficult too, but then I remind myself that the semester is 1/3 over already and I am doing well. It is heartening. I can get way ahead of myself all too easily and sink into fantasies of sailing into nursing school with a GPA of 4.0 in my prerequisite classes and then graduating top of my class and getting multiple job offers and ....and.... and they lived happily ever after. Then I rein myself in and get back to work.
Statistics class continues to go remarkably well. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. I got a 93 on my first exam, which blew me away, as did the murmured "Veddy Goot" the instructor gave me as he handed me my test back. You'd think I was in fourth grade again, where a kind word from the teacher means so much. I had to work hard not to preen. Most of the class did not do that well. Last night, the instructor opened the class with the announcement that what he was going to be teaching was very important...and if we didn't understand it, we need to drop the class, as we will not understand the rest of the class if we don't understand this. Daunting to say the least, and I was a note-taking fool. But so far what he taught is very understandable to me. I am convinced half the problem with the low grades much of the class is getting results from the excessive socializing and flirting going on (lots of young'uns in this class), the hope for curves and extensions (has not happened yet and sounds not likely to) and an anticipation that this is going to be excessively difficult. I fear it will be excessively difficult too, but then I remind myself that the semester is 1/3 over already and I am doing well. It is heartening. I can get way ahead of myself all too easily and sink into fantasies of sailing into nursing school with a GPA of 4.0 in my prerequisite classes and then graduating top of my class and getting multiple job offers and ....and.... and they lived happily ever after. Then I rein myself in and get back to work.
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