Yesterday was the first day of class. I stumbled out of bed around 11--My first class on Mondays doesn't start until 2--and went to the gym before going back to the library to do some reading preparation.
Intro to Poetry was filled almost to capacity; students made small talk, chatting quietly while we waited for the professor to arrive. Five minutes passed, then ten; still no sign of her. We passed around an attendance sheet to leave for her and prepared to go, but just as the clock struck 15 after, she burst through the door.
Her only explanation for being late was having a conversation, which seems tacky on the first day of class, but I'm giving her the benefit of the doubt. Class was great: She's passionate, theatrical, and, at times, solemn about her art. We did in-class exercises before she assigned a boat-load of reading and a poem to write about our lives thus far.
Due to an odd scheduling quirk, I don't have class today or tomorrow, so I'm going to search for jobs, catch up on homework, and try to make it out to Biola
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1 comments:
Hey Mark, I'm just catching up on your blog after being out of town a lot the past few weeks. Hang in there brother! You can do it!
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