Thoughts Brought on by a Return to Campus.
First round of new classes began today. German for Teachers is going to be much better for than was Business German. The focus of the class will be on pedagogical methods, just taught in German, and mixed well with a study of the theory of German grammar.
I also have a week to write a three page German paper. "Whyfor," you might ask. Why so early? The answer is money. The German Heritage Society gives two grants for $1000 dollars for books and tuition in the next semester; one must first write a three page paper on Germany's place in Europe, so I will be working on that tomorrow.
I did not feel so lost upon beginning this class as I did last fall, I understood almost everything said and read, and even if my accent and pronunciation are still abysmal, at least I can parrot back everything in English.
Arabic 150 was an even better beginning. I remembered just about everything, including things I'm not sure that I remembered for the final. And not only did some of the most fun people from the last class migrate along with us, but this other section had a more willing and energetic group than the earlier class.
The fact that so much of the first class was actually devoted to us speaking the language and getting some of the basics to the point of being natural reactions. This semester is going to be a little more challenging, but I think it will be pleasant.
Sadly, the beginning of this semester will mean the end of unbridled reading. It is also, more happily, the end of unbridled screwing around. It means that I now have renewed reason to grumble about any hour that I spend at work, because I would obviously be spending that time on diligent study, not on reading web comics and restraining myself from starting internet fights. Ergo, every moment a manager has me doing a task that technically belongs to someone else, they are acting at odds with my needs as a student and destroying my future.
This tends to give me excellent ammo for silently fuming at the injustice perpetrated against me by the callous bourgeois management, which they will naturally come to rue in the fullness of time.
Campus is the same place it was last semester; a more hopeful picture of the teeming multitudes of man than the mall, but still not exactly inspiring. Myriads of students scurrying around, many of whom can be parceled off into the categories of the bright eyed and the dull eyed.
The bright eyed often wear stocking caps, skinny jeans, and an Ipod. They are the great drinkers of infinity, self described as libertarian, yet in favour of welfare programs and staunchly against capitalism. Some have long since given up on Obama, who did not bring the change they wanted, and now leave offerings at both the Ron Paul and Occupy tables. Confused creatures, they burn with a dozen conflicting ideologies and do not see the inconsistencies. Their ideas are unversed opinion, and their education consists merely in giving and receiving of that same opinion with like minded individuals. There is promise, and a drive to learn, but the awful crime is that, while they read and write well enough, no one has taught them how to think deeply.
The dull eyed manifest, at best, a certain vulpine cunning. They do not burn with ideals half understood, or with ideas of a better world, but with barely masked hunger. They tend to be the ones who carry the attitude that they are paying for a college degree; the professors are the equivalent of waiters. The students are paying for their time, so the professors should be waiting at the student's leisure. There should be no special faculty parking; they have to park farther away when they are at work. This group has no real respect for faculty, because they do not respect knowledge or ideas. They respect money. He who has money will have, sex, power. and entertainment, which are the gods of the vulgar.
To be sure, there are still a great many students who fall into neither class, and even a few for whom I feel a certain admiration. It is even possible for me to feel admiration for the bright eyed ones. But the harsh reality is that the vulgar carry the majority. And while it is not the same stranglehold that the mall advertises, the spectacle is more than enough to drive one into despairing misanthropy.
It is in such moments that I make a b line for the coffee place, which, though mediocre, still provides a caffeinated stimulant and is staffed by some generally decent types, and some which might be excellent.
But I am still disturbed.
These people will be determining the direction of the Nation in '12.
I also have a week to write a three page German paper. "Whyfor," you might ask. Why so early? The answer is money. The German Heritage Society gives two grants for $1000 dollars for books and tuition in the next semester; one must first write a three page paper on Germany's place in Europe, so I will be working on that tomorrow.
I did not feel so lost upon beginning this class as I did last fall, I understood almost everything said and read, and even if my accent and pronunciation are still abysmal, at least I can parrot back everything in English.
Arabic 150 was an even better beginning. I remembered just about everything, including things I'm not sure that I remembered for the final. And not only did some of the most fun people from the last class migrate along with us, but this other section had a more willing and energetic group than the earlier class.
The fact that so much of the first class was actually devoted to us speaking the language and getting some of the basics to the point of being natural reactions. This semester is going to be a little more challenging, but I think it will be pleasant.
Sadly, the beginning of this semester will mean the end of unbridled reading. It is also, more happily, the end of unbridled screwing around. It means that I now have renewed reason to grumble about any hour that I spend at work, because I would obviously be spending that time on diligent study, not on reading web comics and restraining myself from starting internet fights. Ergo, every moment a manager has me doing a task that technically belongs to someone else, they are acting at odds with my needs as a student and destroying my future.
This tends to give me excellent ammo for silently fuming at the injustice perpetrated against me by the callous bourgeois management, which they will naturally come to rue in the fullness of time.
Campus is the same place it was last semester; a more hopeful picture of the teeming multitudes of man than the mall, but still not exactly inspiring. Myriads of students scurrying around, many of whom can be parceled off into the categories of the bright eyed and the dull eyed.
The bright eyed often wear stocking caps, skinny jeans, and an Ipod. They are the great drinkers of infinity, self described as libertarian, yet in favour of welfare programs and staunchly against capitalism. Some have long since given up on Obama, who did not bring the change they wanted, and now leave offerings at both the Ron Paul and Occupy tables. Confused creatures, they burn with a dozen conflicting ideologies and do not see the inconsistencies. Their ideas are unversed opinion, and their education consists merely in giving and receiving of that same opinion with like minded individuals. There is promise, and a drive to learn, but the awful crime is that, while they read and write well enough, no one has taught them how to think deeply.
The dull eyed manifest, at best, a certain vulpine cunning. They do not burn with ideals half understood, or with ideas of a better world, but with barely masked hunger. They tend to be the ones who carry the attitude that they are paying for a college degree; the professors are the equivalent of waiters. The students are paying for their time, so the professors should be waiting at the student's leisure. There should be no special faculty parking; they have to park farther away when they are at work. This group has no real respect for faculty, because they do not respect knowledge or ideas. They respect money. He who has money will have, sex, power. and entertainment, which are the gods of the vulgar.
To be sure, there are still a great many students who fall into neither class, and even a few for whom I feel a certain admiration. It is even possible for me to feel admiration for the bright eyed ones. But the harsh reality is that the vulgar carry the majority. And while it is not the same stranglehold that the mall advertises, the spectacle is more than enough to drive one into despairing misanthropy.
It is in such moments that I make a b line for the coffee place, which, though mediocre, still provides a caffeinated stimulant and is staffed by some generally decent types, and some which might be excellent.
But I am still disturbed.
These people will be determining the direction of the Nation in '12.
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