I'm in a class I should not be in.
The title of the class is "Big Dreams, Big Goals, Big Money." This is a class for students who have the first two, and need the last one. I have none of them.
It's a class that takes successful students and preens them... teaching them how to prepare their academic resumes in order to have a chance at major scholarships for studying abroad, going to graduate school, or whatever academic goals they need money for. It's a wonderful opportunity they're offering us; a one-credit-hour course offered to the top 12 students in the honors college. Barb Stedman, who teaches the class, is a spark of a lady, and if you ever get a chance to look her in the eye, you will feel as though anything you could ever dream to do is entirely possible, and that it will be hell getting there.
At first I thought I was sent the invitation to take this class by mistake, but it turns out I somehow ended up being recommended to her by the Dean of the honors college, Dr. Ruebel, who taught a humanities course I was in last term. I set up a meeting with her, and explained that there had been a grievous error; that I had no dreams or goals or money... but she said that she liked that I was going to write poetry about math, and that she wanted me in her class.
I have this fault in my character that I like to call my "specialness complex," which leads me to make decisions based solely on the fact that they make me feel special. And so, I made the decision to be in a class that is focused mainly on nailing down specific details of your future plans, despite the fact that this is not something I am wired to be able to do. It's a stretch for me to make plans a week ahead, let alone years in advance. Apparently, I need to be part of more leadership organizations and I need to ask a professor if I can be their apprentice for research in mathematics. But, I'm afraid of all that getting in the way of my truly important commitments: swing dancing on weekends and singing in the library stairwell between classes.
--
For class today, we were supposed to write a rough outline of our goals and aspirations for our future... both for academics and future career
and bring it to class.
[I figured it was for the beginnings of the essay we are writing as our final project for the year]
So, I
with my major so brazenly undecided,
made a flow chart of 5 different possible majors and their results
some of which lead to the same goals via different paths.
Little did I know...
we were supposed to turn this in for Dr. Stedman to look at.
I hope she has a good sense of humor
when she sees one of my possible majors was "Quit School"
and the possible goals branching off from this were
"world domination"
"street poet"
and
"marry rich."
The title of the class is "Big Dreams, Big Goals, Big Money." This is a class for students who have the first two, and need the last one. I have none of them.
It's a class that takes successful students and preens them... teaching them how to prepare their academic resumes in order to have a chance at major scholarships for studying abroad, going to graduate school, or whatever academic goals they need money for. It's a wonderful opportunity they're offering us; a one-credit-hour course offered to the top 12 students in the honors college. Barb Stedman, who teaches the class, is a spark of a lady, and if you ever get a chance to look her in the eye, you will feel as though anything you could ever dream to do is entirely possible, and that it will be hell getting there.
At first I thought I was sent the invitation to take this class by mistake, but it turns out I somehow ended up being recommended to her by the Dean of the honors college, Dr. Ruebel, who taught a humanities course I was in last term. I set up a meeting with her, and explained that there had been a grievous error; that I had no dreams or goals or money... but she said that she liked that I was going to write poetry about math, and that she wanted me in her class.
I have this fault in my character that I like to call my "specialness complex," which leads me to make decisions based solely on the fact that they make me feel special. And so, I made the decision to be in a class that is focused mainly on nailing down specific details of your future plans, despite the fact that this is not something I am wired to be able to do. It's a stretch for me to make plans a week ahead, let alone years in advance. Apparently, I need to be part of more leadership organizations and I need to ask a professor if I can be their apprentice for research in mathematics. But, I'm afraid of all that getting in the way of my truly important commitments: swing dancing on weekends and singing in the library stairwell between classes.
--
For class today, we were supposed to write a rough outline of our goals and aspirations for our future... both for academics and future career
and bring it to class.
[I figured it was for the beginnings of the essay we are writing as our final project for the year]
So, I
with my major so brazenly undecided,
made a flow chart of 5 different possible majors and their results
some of which lead to the same goals via different paths.
Little did I know...
we were supposed to turn this in for Dr. Stedman to look at.
I hope she has a good sense of humor
when she sees one of my possible majors was "Quit School"
and the possible goals branching off from this were
"world domination"
"street poet"
and
"marry rich."
