After weeks of wondering how I did in my dreadful summer class (History of Consumerism in Early America…fun, no?), our grades were finally posted today, and I got…a B. I couldn’t be more excited. In grad school, I’ve honestly tried so hard to get As in all of my classes and I’ve been pretty successful, but in this class I just hoped to get the hell out of there with a B and my sanity. The jury is still out on that last part. Grades don’t really matter anyway, not like they did in undergrad, which I told my friend Hannah, who shared the torture with me this summer (yay, we’re done!). A summer class is supposed to be a nice (fairly simple?) six-week course. Someone forgot to tell our professor.
Last summer was amazing. I was in Archaeology Field School. Two weeks away from work. Two weeks out in the sun, digging around in the dirt for old “stuff” and I. loved. it. It was the best 3 credits of my Master’s (aside from Script Writing) and it was just an easy, care-free summer course. Then I took a summer class on how to “read” objects. Again, it was an easy class with a really fun, eccentric professor who seemed to know what it meant to teach summer classes. I was hoping for the same thing this summer, but it just didn’t work out. Instead I spent the summer feeling like this:
To be honest, I was really excited about the class going into it. It sounded like it could be really interesting, which made it hurt that much more when it was a major suckfest. Our professor was very vague about our assignments (which were plentiful) and early into the course I was already struggling to keep up with the reading (300-400 page books each week? No thanks.). Now two weeks into the class is when my dad passed away, so I was understandably a bit sidetracked. When I got back into town I had a really hard time focusing on the readings and the papers, but I got through it the best that I could. Apparently it wasn’t just me struggling with the class and the professor’s teaching methods, so at least it helped to have people to commiserate with.
Now a summer class is supposed to be short, six weeks and then you’re done. Not this one. Six weeks of torture and then you have a month to write a 15-page paper that you don’t truly understand even after asking. Then another 3 weeks to wonder if you did okay. I really don’t like to complain (that’s a lie, sometimes I really do), but this class just put me in a complete funk this summer…but today I can say: it’s over!
Side note: when I was looking for an image to use Google images came up with this (I searched for something about grad school):
Pretty random, but gahhh, how lovely is that?? I don’t want to eat it at all, I don’t like chocolate. I want to put it on display. I mean I would probably eat that pink frosting. It is just too cute. I have strong feelings about the cupcake craze that seems to be going on, but that might be better saved for another post… besides it’s time to go home!