back to school
First day back to university. Throughout my depressive undergraduate days, those winter nights I walked to the station alone, I kept saying to myself, “One day you’ll miss all this.”
So I was back today.
I’m taking two English courses this year, courses titled respectively ‘The Short Story’ and ‘The Short Story Collection’. Today I attended the first class of both of these courses. I made a point to speak to both of my professors.
^^^
In my first class…
Me: “Do you write fiction?”
Professor 1: “No. Well… If only I had more time…”
^^^
In my second class…
Me: “Do you write fiction?”
Professor 2: “Well… no. Why do you ask?”
Me: “I just wonder, since you know your fiction so well, if you ever feel the urge to create.”
Professor 2: “I do have an idea for a novel…”
I didn’t mean to challenge them or to put them in an embarrassing situation to make myself, ha-ha… the fiction writer, feel superior or anything. But I just wonder, how it would enhance their teaching experience, if they would step into the shoes of a writer and actually walk through the process of creating fiction. It baffles me as to why the people with such immense knowledge do not attempt to create, why almost all my friends who are talented in playing the piano don’t attempt to write songs.
Critics, especially, annoy me so much (though we all have the right to criticizes and express our likes and dislikes) because they seem to know everything about the art – But they don’t roll up their sleeves and do it! Snobbery.
But it is not to be mistakened that my profs are snobbish people. No, they are not. I didn’t get the impression that they are. In fact, it was so pleasant talking to them today. And yes, I made it a point to talk to my profs because in my four years of undergraduate studies I recall only three occasions in which I have talked to my professor. 1) One time I was being evaluated for acceptance into the International Relations program and I had to sit in Professor B’s office while he reviewed my grades and said something like, “very good… very good… you’re in.” 2) Another time during my very dark days in a history exam, instead of answering the essay questions, I scribbled a personal rant in my exam booklet with sentences that communicate how I was miserable and how I was dying, and I actually handed it to Professor M and before I could walk out of the exam hall, she caught up to me and asked, very sincerely, “Are you okay?” That was the first time I realized professors are human. 3) Another time I walked with Professor L across Queen’s Park on a September afternoon feeling the scholarly atmosphere while he… I totally forget what he talked about... but the whole time I pretended to understand what he was saying while in the back of my mind thinking and thinking of dropping his History of Alchemy course.
Anyways. I’m glad to be back in school.
On my way back it was dark. I passed by a new science building with tall clear glass that in contrast with the dark night shows the interior very clearly. Inside, a couple was playing paper-scissors-rock. The winner of each round walked down a step of stairs. How carefree.
So I was back today.
I’m taking two English courses this year, courses titled respectively ‘The Short Story’ and ‘The Short Story Collection’. Today I attended the first class of both of these courses. I made a point to speak to both of my professors.
^^^
In my first class…
Me: “Do you write fiction?”
Professor 1: “No. Well… If only I had more time…”
^^^
In my second class…
Me: “Do you write fiction?”
Professor 2: “Well… no. Why do you ask?”
Me: “I just wonder, since you know your fiction so well, if you ever feel the urge to create.”
Professor 2: “I do have an idea for a novel…”
I didn’t mean to challenge them or to put them in an embarrassing situation to make myself, ha-ha… the fiction writer, feel superior or anything. But I just wonder, how it would enhance their teaching experience, if they would step into the shoes of a writer and actually walk through the process of creating fiction. It baffles me as to why the people with such immense knowledge do not attempt to create, why almost all my friends who are talented in playing the piano don’t attempt to write songs.
Critics, especially, annoy me so much (though we all have the right to criticizes and express our likes and dislikes) because they seem to know everything about the art – But they don’t roll up their sleeves and do it! Snobbery.
But it is not to be mistakened that my profs are snobbish people. No, they are not. I didn’t get the impression that they are. In fact, it was so pleasant talking to them today. And yes, I made it a point to talk to my profs because in my four years of undergraduate studies I recall only three occasions in which I have talked to my professor. 1) One time I was being evaluated for acceptance into the International Relations program and I had to sit in Professor B’s office while he reviewed my grades and said something like, “very good… very good… you’re in.” 2) Another time during my very dark days in a history exam, instead of answering the essay questions, I scribbled a personal rant in my exam booklet with sentences that communicate how I was miserable and how I was dying, and I actually handed it to Professor M and before I could walk out of the exam hall, she caught up to me and asked, very sincerely, “Are you okay?” That was the first time I realized professors are human. 3) Another time I walked with Professor L across Queen’s Park on a September afternoon feeling the scholarly atmosphere while he… I totally forget what he talked about... but the whole time I pretended to understand what he was saying while in the back of my mind thinking and thinking of dropping his History of Alchemy course.
Anyways. I’m glad to be back in school.
On my way back it was dark. I passed by a new science building with tall clear glass that in contrast with the dark night shows the interior very clearly. Inside, a couple was playing paper-scissors-rock. The winner of each round walked down a step of stairs. How carefree.
posted by Adam C at
2:12 AM
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