I guess I never really explained just what exactly is demanding my participation now that my lovely Science Summer is sadly over.  I have to spend twenty hours per week in a high school classroom, first observing and then teaching, so that I may one day, after another semester of the same, be certified to do something I am likely never to want to do. It isn’t as bad as it sounds… or is it?

To go along with this excitement I have ten weekly hours of seminars and classes to attend, the theme being: EDUCATION. It is a very silly time. My professor mentioned today that we didn’t need to write down any notes unless we could see ourselves using the information in our classrooms in the future. This should be a good indicator of how many things I wrote down.

In truth however, I DID write several things down. Mostly breath-wasting quotes and emphatic typos (see above), both for Mary’s benefit and for future reference. We are afraid that soon our professor will take it upon herself to use the proximity technique on us, though we took care to once again sit in the back behind the like-minded girl with curly hair and her friend who looks like Melissa Joan Hart. I only snickered (audibly) three times in three hours, and Mary used all her STRENGHT to contort her face into an acceptable expression, succeeding an astonishing 64% of the time!

I can’t stand how boring this blog is becoming, but since I can’t gossip about my school and I can’t give much detail about my professors or classmates on account of how mean I would be- and I don’t, to my sorrow, have delightful adventures anymore- there’s nothing to be done other than to challenge myself as a writer with a series of topical and poignant essays on the charminger points of life.

More photos coming soon for any interested parties, but Bob would be ashamed of me if I took time to organize and upload photos when I could be getting another plot or two of point framing data out of the way. Blogging doesn’t count as a time-consuming activity: the words flow from my fingers like butter flowing through a land of toast and corn on the cob, and I’ve usually finished posting before I even realize that I’ve begun!

I’ve already been offered at least one eye roll from afar regarding the words I have recorded here, and I am officially accepting any and all future eye rolls as people see fit to offer them.

Perhaps when my dear roommate Mary scanned the classroom and failed to notice me sitting in the fourth row I should have let her sit in the back row by herself. True, both of us are independently predisposed to be look-diseasers and back-row-snickerers when left to our own devices, but when we joined forces and sat together (I don’t know how she didn’t see me, anyway- how much more conspicuous do I and my polka-dot purse have to be?!) the disruptive nature of our participation was set in stone.

Without naming names (ridiculous names, I might add) Mary and I were quick to pinpoint the standouts and predict the way the class would progress from now until December. Though we will undoubtedly be pleased when we are inevitably proved right, the actual events are going to be dull and possibly painful. I’m afraid that the best I can hope for is “droll.” The worst part is that we are quite certain that fifteen weeks with our enthusiastic (blond Juliette Lewis doppelganger) professor and her Tips for the Classroom* will not make us feel any better about our future possible professions.

I can’t stop laughing. At inappropriate times. At appropriate times, too, but the inappropriate times are the ones people remember and frown at you for.  How could I possibly refrain from laughing at the girl whose laugh sounds like a garbage truck? Or the boy who suggested that our professor’s short fingernails indicate true dedication and a strong work ethic? Or the gentleman who awkwardly shouted out “terrorist!” when a nice young man was introducing himself to the class?

I went to the grocery store and paid for my own food today. It was disconcerting. At Meijer I had far too many choices of which foods to buy and I missed the convenience of the toy-slash-gun aisle at the Stauqpak. Plus there was no BASC grocery card to use at the checkout lane…!

For the record, my insane desire to run screaming from the College of Education and just graduate with whatever hodge-podge degree I can scrape up is not limited to me- at least two of my friends who did not spend a delightful summer in the Land of the Midnight Sun are experiencing the same symptoms.  We have only until Friday to change our schedules, though, and then the panic of the start-of-semester will subside. It always does.

Science report: still entering ten weeks of numbers into endless spreadsheets.

* Children love candy! You can call on kids at random if you have a stack of notecards with their names on them! Write with different colors! Don’t get married when you’re eighteen!