The First Day
I was a baby in the 60's, a kid in the 70's, and a teenager in the 80's. I am now 42 years old, and I'm a college student. Again. Today was the first day of class.
Now, I'm usually not a big believer in portents or omens, but the first thing I saw this morning when I went outside was a loose pit bull. I managed to retain my calm, said "Hello, Dog!" in the most cheerful and non-threatening way possibole, and quickly got a closed door between me and him. He had a collar on, and seemed gregarious and inquisitive - if he were almost any other breed, I wouldn't have been concerned.
He hung around until boredom overtook him. It was only later that I thought of him as a spookily accurate and possibly hilarious predictor of the upcoming semester and year - a happy pit bull who thinks he's playing as he's really tearing your face off. I went to class.
I am pretty sure I was the only one there wearing mirrored aviator shades and who listens to Siouxsie and the Banshees. I saw a few, passing me in the crowd, who could be in their thirties, but any other post-forty people I saw were likely professors. Some of the collegiates around me look unnaturally young, as if they are Doogie Howser-types whose same-age friends are still in Junior High - excuse me, Middle - School.
My first class was a compacted Latin class - two semesters in one. I had taken a community-college Latin 101 class several years ago, but it was pretty woeful and the teacher fairly spaced and we only got through about half of the syllabus, so this accelerated class seems right for me to catch up my language credit. The professor is a cheery and rather flouncy silver-haired woman who says we can call her by her first name if we like and radiates an aura of feminist liberalism. She also warned us that for an hour each week she will be unreachable due to her passion for EastEnders, which she simply cannot miss for anything. Most of our first hour there was spent having her read the syllabus to us.
On to my second class, a 400-level on the history of technology - invention, reception, that sort of thing. The professor here looks a bit like a thin, mustachioed Michael Palin, and I bet could be a quite convincing Mr. Gumby for Halloween. He has a pronounced lisp, had trouble getting the AV to work, and is apparently the world's foremost expert on zippers.
That's right, zippers. Look up "zipper" on Wikipedia and not only is he the main contributor, but he is also the author of the primary source book for it. He's spent a great deal of his life investigating, researching, and passionately delving in to the untold mysteries of the zipper. He even interviewed the inventor's daughter for jovial anecdotes about her brilliant, forward-thinking, society-changing, universe-cracking dad who gave the world the humble but ubiquitous zipper. Go figure.
I spent the customary Way Too Much for the books, then headed back to my car. I had about an hour at home, and now it's off to work. I wonder if I can read Chapter One of my overpriced new Latin book while on break?
Now, I'm usually not a big believer in portents or omens, but the first thing I saw this morning when I went outside was a loose pit bull. I managed to retain my calm, said "Hello, Dog!" in the most cheerful and non-threatening way possibole, and quickly got a closed door between me and him. He had a collar on, and seemed gregarious and inquisitive - if he were almost any other breed, I wouldn't have been concerned.
He hung around until boredom overtook him. It was only later that I thought of him as a spookily accurate and possibly hilarious predictor of the upcoming semester and year - a happy pit bull who thinks he's playing as he's really tearing your face off. I went to class.
I am pretty sure I was the only one there wearing mirrored aviator shades and who listens to Siouxsie and the Banshees. I saw a few, passing me in the crowd, who could be in their thirties, but any other post-forty people I saw were likely professors. Some of the collegiates around me look unnaturally young, as if they are Doogie Howser-types whose same-age friends are still in Junior High - excuse me, Middle - School.
My first class was a compacted Latin class - two semesters in one. I had taken a community-college Latin 101 class several years ago, but it was pretty woeful and the teacher fairly spaced and we only got through about half of the syllabus, so this accelerated class seems right for me to catch up my language credit. The professor is a cheery and rather flouncy silver-haired woman who says we can call her by her first name if we like and radiates an aura of feminist liberalism. She also warned us that for an hour each week she will be unreachable due to her passion for EastEnders, which she simply cannot miss for anything. Most of our first hour there was spent having her read the syllabus to us.
On to my second class, a 400-level on the history of technology - invention, reception, that sort of thing. The professor here looks a bit like a thin, mustachioed Michael Palin, and I bet could be a quite convincing Mr. Gumby for Halloween. He has a pronounced lisp, had trouble getting the AV to work, and is apparently the world's foremost expert on zippers.
That's right, zippers. Look up "zipper" on Wikipedia and not only is he the main contributor, but he is also the author of the primary source book for it. He's spent a great deal of his life investigating, researching, and passionately delving in to the untold mysteries of the zipper. He even interviewed the inventor's daughter for jovial anecdotes about her brilliant, forward-thinking, society-changing, universe-cracking dad who gave the world the humble but ubiquitous zipper. Go figure.
I spent the customary Way Too Much for the books, then headed back to my car. I had about an hour at home, and now it's off to work. I wonder if I can read Chapter One of my overpriced new Latin book while on break?
