Theme Song: "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now" - Starship
Interior: Breidenbaugh, 1st floor. I haven't slept in 27 hours. I've been up all night studying and finishing my 3rd paper due in the past 2 days. Seriously, I am running on Auto Pilot right now. I'm the first to finish Prof. de Seife's extremely detailed final exam (9 IDs, 3 short essays, and 1 Long Essay) with over 90 minutes to spare. This cannot be good. But I know that I KNOW this stuff, and I've worked very quickly. Oh well, I've done all I can, and there's no use in being redundant now. The phrase, "Word vomit," comes to mind.
As I stumble weakly down the narrow hallway, I finally reach the professor's office, where I can't comprehend what I'm seeing. Did I just step into OZ? A gray feline greets me at the door, strapped to his desk. He sits there, removing peanut shells. I tilt my head and he asks, "Want some nuts? There's plenty." Barely awake, I let out a grunt, "WAH?" "No, really, I've got a huge sack." *slaps forehead* Too. Tired. To. Mock. Teacher. Must. Not. Die. Laughing. I'm noticeably shaking like a chihuahua as I hand my blue exam book to him. I'll mock him later, when my fate does not rest in his hands. Ex-cell-ent.
There's nothing like going to college to make you feel like a total dumbass. *sigh* But luckily for me, I'm starting to remember how smart I am. It feels like my 2 years of experience are finally starting to pay off in my other classes. And despite the fact that I'm not taking any electives, I actually feel smart and regularly contribute in all 4 of my classes. Oh yeah, I aced the exam, by the way--so I was worried for nothing.
And thanks to Prof. Anchisi, I've had the opportunity to meet another one of the "smarties" as I've always called the group, Scott. Given the fact that, like myself, he's an English & Film double major who plays the clarinet, it's odd that not until my third year have we had a single class together. And as I hear my own aspirations of going to film school in California upon graduation echoed by Scott, I feel validated--like my lifelong dream of working in the film industry isn't just a pile of gobblygook. That's always nice.
Speaking of dining with teachers, up until recently, I haven't really been a fan. I've always avoided "hanging out" with the professors who were teaching me during that semester. Afterwards, I'd perfectly comfortable chatting with them, knowing that our conversations wouldn't affect my grades, whether it be positively or negatively. Of all the professors, the one I feel most comfortable around is Dr. Wedlock aka Professor Mike--that's a good thing right there; he's flexible with the names we call him unlike SOME PEOPLE. ;-D Seriously, when I first arrived at Gettysburg, I initially called Dr. Peddell "Mister Peddell" and he practically chewed my head off. You're a doctor of Music, man! But this is how I see it: if someone yells in a crowded theatre, "Is there a doctor in the house?" and you don't go running, then you, my friend, are not a doctor. Lighten up.
Of course, I'm chummy with Prof. Mike because he teaches Chemistry, and I'm not touching THAT one with a 10-foot pole; I stick to my English and Film, so I stay far away from the Science Center. Plus, it's just awesome to have someone around who actually gets my obscure jokes every now and then. ;-D IDK, I think I'm starting to let the walls down a little, and start thinking of my professors (past and present) as, dare I say it, friends, and maybe one day I'll start to use their human names (sorry but I refuse to call him "Jim" and her "Shirleen") instead of eternally referring to them all as "Professor." Only time will tell...
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