Hiding in my book...

Recently, in one of my Lit. classes, my prof. decided to "pick on Kelsey" (she regularly does this with her 300-400 level English students). She then mentioned how I had done a phenomenal job of improving as a writer in the last few months, giving details of my grades from last semester compared to now. Needless to say, while happy that an essay I literally wrote the night before and thought was poorly-done turned out getting an almost perfect mark, I regretted my decision to sit near the front of the class. She continued to lecture the class on how if you pay attention to what your prof. scrawls in the margins, "like Kelsey" (gestures), you too can improve. Ironically, I made the same mistake in the essay I got back today as I did in a previous one I turned in to this same professor...In all honesty, a lot of it has to do with the fact that I put minimal effort into my Literature class last semester because I needed to focus my attention to Biology and Philosophy. Without trying, I still got a B+ in the class, and managed with effort to pass both my hard classes with a decent grade. Granted, I'm working to improve my GPA this semester, and it seems to be paying off...we'll see when I get my midterms back. There are certainly worse things to get singled out in class for.


On a different note, reading in Isaiah this morning, I was particularly touched by a certain line in chapter 16. Not because it convicted me of sin, but because the beauty of the poetic metaphor used does a wonderful job of describing how my feelings work. Isaiah has spent 10 verses describing the fall of Moab and lamenting for the destruction there. In verse 11, he introduces his simile: "Therefore my inner parts moan like a lyre for Moab, and my inmost self for Kir-hareseth". As I read, it struck me; in my rare sorrow, my depths of emotion, my heart also moans (though I would tend to compare it more to a cello or violin). That's one of the reasons I love stringed instruments so much; I do actually feel the sounds in my heart. It's hard to describe, but I think Isaiah captured it well.

Well, that's a new one...

Because I'm still new in Seattle, I'm often meeting new people. Today, I was talking to an older man who had sat in front of me at church. After a long and somewhat awkward conversation, his wife joined him. "You're one of the university kids?" I replied in the affirmative. "Where at, and what are you studying?" As I usually do with Americans, I explained that I went to Ambrose University College in Calgary, Alberta and was studying English Literature. With a disgusted look, the woman said "that's boring" and turned her back to me, effectively ending the conversation. I ended up talking to her husband for a bit longer, and then thankfully, the service started. 

Now I've gotten a wide range of responses to my comment "I'm studying English", but never one quite like this. Typically when people totally disapprove of my major, they sit and lecture me about it. How I'll never get a job that pays anything, how it's a complete waste of my time, how I'm just a nerd, how boys don't like girls that think, etc. At the very least, this woman was brief. Her summary of "your major is boring, therefore, you are as well" is actually mildly amusing. It'll be nice to get back to school to be around people who love English again. 

Proof that I was at least once sitting by my textbook on this trip. I have actually accomplished quite a bit of research. Ironically, after reading Freud's "Introductory Lectures on Psychoanalysis" (having to do with the premises and techniques involved in the interpretation of dreams) I had a rather odd dream. Clearly I'm thinking enough about homework for it to haunt my dreams as well as my waking hours.

From Sunny Seattle...

After an 18 hour flight delay, I'm back in Seattle for reading week! I've heard it said that reading week was implemented because the suicide rates among college students were particularly alarming during the month of February (theoretically due to a lethal combination of seasonal depression and homework). Thankfully, it's not at all that bad at Ambrose (probably due to the Chinooks), but I'm enjoying the break.The week away is a wonderful opportunity to spend some time with my parents and 3 younger brothers. It's also great chance to study for midterms, get ahead in my reading for literature classes, and do some research for a presentation coming up in March.

In the last 24 hours, I have written 12 pages of text for the same prof. (in three different classes: 2 essays and a midterm). Typically, I have problems filling pages, but God has been good and taken my gift of brevity for the time being. Now all I have to do is make it through the week: then there will be sunshine and flowers and family and good food....(contented sigh).For now, I'll sit with my steaming mug of cider waiting with bated breath for my paper to be reviewed so I can get to bed. 

Testing...

The anticipation for the upcoming open house is building around campus. We're thrilled at the chance to have so many students around on a day when we actually have classes/chapel, so they can get a more accurate picture of what a day in the life of an Ambrose student looks like. There's also a lot of tension because it's that time of the year again: midterms and papers are once again looming their monstrous heads over the students. It hardly requires keen skills of observation to see that everyone is a bit flustered right now. Many of us wonder why we feel so stressed so early in the year. Shouldn't we wait until finals week at least? But as a good friend of mine observed yesterday, it's precisely because we have an upcoming break that we're all putting such high pressure on ourselves. If we can just make it through to Saturday, then we've got time to relax and catch up on down time over reading week (or, to research our upcoming projects and do all the rest of the semester's readings). Having enthusiastic, young students around will help remind us of what we came to Ambrose for, and hopefully inspire us as we trudge on through the week.

Dishing it Out, Graciously.

One of my literature classes was rather fascinating (and not only because we watched part of a rather graphic version of "Frankenstein"); My typically quiet, reserved professor gave some obnoxious students exactly what they deserved. You see, in these classes, there are typically no notes except what you write. The point is to read the material, and then come to class prepared to discuss it. Needless to say, if you miss the lecture, you really miss out on the class, and considering that we're paying to be here, it does seem a waste...but back to the story. There was a group of guys who had been particularly obnoxious, talking loud enough in the back of the classroom that if you weren't lucky enough to get a seat in the front three rows of the class, you couldn't hear the lecture. So after calling role, the prof. calmly reread a couple names. "Now that I know your names, get up and go to the dean's office. You've been disrupting the class long enough." and went back to lecturing like nothing had happened. We were all rather shocked. It was exactly what needed to happen, and what we had been wanting, but none of us had expected it (Admittedly, I whistled in class). We're all very proud of our Professors and their ability to speak the truth in love. It was a prime example of how to be gracious while appropriately dealing with conflict, and hopefully we take that from the lecture as well as what was literally being taught.