School Days

Now see? That's what I always thought/imagined/hoped attendance at an institution of higher learning would be like. A young fellow, just my Adam's age, stops and asks me for change for a dollar. This evolves into, "Aren't you in my biology class," which then wanders - in true Queen of the Tangential Conversation fasion -- into a half hour discussion of majors, criminal justice, famous prisons, and the 1960-something Stanford (Stamford?) Prison Study.

THAT's what school should be like: people of different ages, backgtrounds, interests, etc, coming together to share ideas, to pass around information and passions, to learn and to teach, regardless of whether there's an actual teacher involved. I know, I know. 'Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished. But, hey, it happened once. There's no telling but what it may happen again.

I WANT to be exposed to new ideas, new information, new viewpoints. Even when those ideas, viewpoints, etc. are stuff that I HATE, stuff that I oppose at the top of my lungs. I can only be improved by hearing them, regardless of whether I agree. I can only be improved by the exposure. For the millionth time, I'll say it: "The day you stop learning is the day you start dying."

Right now, I have only two fears. The first is obvious: that something will happen again that will take the whole thing away from me. Money, children, the vicissitudes of life, whatever it may be, that will force me to leave school. I fear that terribly.

The second is ... well, that I want it all too badly. There's a part of me that feels like a starving man who's suddenly been thrust into the midst of a smorgasborg. I want it all, I want every fragment I can choke down, and there's that fear that I'm going to make myself sick. Slow and steady, that's the only way I can eat this particular elephant (if you don't mind me mixing my metaphors).

Can you tell I'm loving my classes? About a dozen times, I've been asked by fellow students, "Oh, don't you just dread going to X class?" or "God, isn't Professor X boring?" Frankly, I have not been. Even math class -- usually either intimidating or boring to me, back in the day -- has been absolutely gripping. I can't wait to get to class, I am absolutely mesmerized by every lecture, even the "boring" stuff, and I'm always mildly disappointed when class ends. Maybe the charm will wear off when the newness wears off. I don't know. I hope not. I can easily get through four years and more, if it's all going to be this stimulating.

Which is not to say I'm the perfect student. By no means. I'm averaging about a B in my history class (my personal favorite); my professor is quiz happy (his term, not mine), and, while I'm holding my own on them, I'm not perfect. The same goes in my other classes.

How can somebody with my supposedly fabulous brain not be doing perfect? You know, I'm not quite sure. A lot of it probably has to do with just having other things to tend to: maybe if I didn't have a family and a household to take care of every day, I'd be able to give my lessons a little more attention. Maybe it has to do with being out of practice? Bad study habits? I really don't know.

I had an employer tell me one time, I was too smart for the job: that my brain was off in the stratosphere, doing its thing, telling stories or whatever, and not enough of my attention was on the mundane work under my hands at the moment. This was a fair assessment. I'm a daydreamer. Or a sloppy worker, however you want to look at it.

You know, normally when I write, I do NOT let my topic meander as much as I do in this blog: start off talking about one thing, end up someplace near by but not quite on topic. Sloppy writing practice, and one I've worked hard not to indulge in. But the blog.... well, it's sort of my journal, isn't it? A journal I let friends, and the occasional complete stranger, read. In a journal, you record your thoughts and feelings. And while my writing is not allowed to meander, my thoughts do that a lot.

Maybe that's why I'm a B student instead of an A student.