Thursday, December 15, 2011
5:00 pm
This has been one hell of a day. Mom and I wrapped a ton of presents at work today, after which I hightailed it home to grab my cap and gown, only to fly right back out the door again after about twenty minutes with The Hubbs, The Princess and The In-Laws.
I'm now standing in line in a room I never noticed before, tucked away next to the commons at school. Like a good little sheep, I've found the line I belong in based on my last name, and now I'm moving forward at a snail's pace.
Oh. It's my turn.
I give the lady my name, and she hands me a card with my name spelled phonetically on it. I ask if there's anything else, and she relinquishes a Ziploc baggie with a bright gold cord inside. I'm in danger of tearing up, so I thank her and walk across the room to trade in my coat for the aforementioned cap and gown.
The cord is for high honors: grade point averages of 3.75 and up. I'm one of about ten in the graduation class of 200+ who has received one of these cords.
An hour and a half later, feet aching from standing in line for so long, I'm slightly disenchanted. I'm wondering why in the world I am bothering to walk at all. Having kept in contact with The Hubbs since my family arrived, I'm acutely aware of the fact that this is about the worst place in the world for The Princess. She's miserable. Grampy has already left the auditorium with her and is presumably chasing her in some quiet recess of the school.
Finally - finally - the line starts moving.
I head into the auditorium, where the band is playing "Pomp and Circumstance." The bleachers and chairs are completely packed. I can't find my family anywhere, though I'm trying my damnedest to sneak a peek as discreetly as possible.
We file to our seats. I'm in the front row. The college president and board of trustees start their hullabaloo on the stage in front of me, and my irritation melts away.
Does it feel cheesy? Sure.
Is it worth it? You're damn right, it is.
At one point during the hullabaloo, graduating students with white cords (indicating honors - 3.5-3.74) are asked to stand, followed by those of us with gold cords. I stand, and I'm in real danger of crying now.
Not to worry, though. When I sit back down, my cell phone slides down out of its place in my bra (Don't look at me like that. I couldn't get to my pockets with the graduation gown on, and I needed to be available in case The Hubbs needed me for some reason.) and onto my belly.
Shit.
As discreetly as possible, I unzip my graduation gown and retrieve my runaway (hot pink...I know, very subtle) cell phone. Zipping my gown back up, I rearrange my cords and return the offending phone to its spot, where I sincerely hope it will remain for the rest of the ceremony.
As if on cue, my row is beckoned to line up to receive our diplomas almost immediately following my phone fiasco. I follow the people in front of me, spotting Gumma and Nana with their cameras. Ever the distinguished individual, I make a face at them on my way to the ramp that leads to the stage. Gumma takes a very attractive picture, and Nana even manages to capture it on video.
A short while later, my name is called. I head across the stage wearing my cap, gown, and coveted gold cord. I receive my diploma holder. I'm gently herded over to the president of the college for a photo op before heading down the ramp and back to my seat.
On my way back, I hear a stage whisper: "Amy!" Looking to my right, I see my favorite Spanish teacher grinning and giving me a thumbs-up.
The rest of the ceremony goes by in a blur. All of a sudden, we're switching our tassels to the other side. We've done it. We've graduated.
The band starts up again, and the graduates are filing out of the auditorium. Passing through the doors, I think, "That's it," just before realizing the entire faculty is lining the corridors back to the cafeteria. They're clapping and cheering, and the sound is deafening. I am grinning from ear to ear while simultaneously wishing I could find The Princess and get her the hell out of here.
The commons area fills up in no time. I'm trying to organize a meeting with my family, so even though all I want to do is look for them, I force myself to stay put. I've told them I'm right next to the Christmas tree, so that is where I shall stay.
There they are! I see The Hubbs breaking through the crowd in my direction, accompanied by an extremely distressed little girl. She has the eyes of a caged animal, and I can tell it won't be long before she hits her absolute limit.
We head back into the room where I started at 5:00 this afternoon, which is blissfully quiet and empty during this exciting time. The Princess runs back and forth and back and forth and back and...you get the idea, stopping only to stim with the tassels on the ends of my gold cord.
Once our whole group is back together, we head for our cars and make our way home to relax and gorge ourselves on pizza from our little local place. This is a much better idea than going out to eat, considering The Princess's evening thus far. I just can't imagine subjecting her to any more noise or commotion tonight.
As we're sitting together in the living room of our little yellow house, it hits me. I did it. And I am well aware of the fact that this never would have happened without these people who love me. These people who I love.
Thank you, guys. You know who you are.
Showing posts with label spanish teacher. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spanish teacher. Show all posts
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Two More Months
This past weekend, I finished my abnormal psych telecourse from the summer semester. Now I'm just down to my online math course (with various gobbledygook due on Wednesday and Saturday of each week) and The Dreaded Spanish Class.
Every Tuesday and Thursday, I head to school to sit through another "class," which is really a time for our professor to tell us what a cool teacher he is while getting so frustrated with the students that he - more often than not - sends us all home at least 30 minutes early, usually in the middle of a lecture that none of us are grasping. Mm-hmm. That helps a lot.
I feel like I'm at the end of my rope with this class. I knew it would be different being taught by a native Spanish-speaker (my professor last semester is from this area and Spanish is her second language), but nothing could have prepared me for this.
I'm feeling overwhelmed with the amount of self-teaching we're required to do in this class, given that the instructor doesn't take the time to make sure we understand these things.
I'm feeling a lot of regret for ever having decided to take this class in the first place.
I'm feeling cheated. Every single time he throws his hands up in the air and treats us like misbehaving elementary school students.
For crying out loud, I paid over $300 for this class. The least he can do is remain in the classroom until our scheduled meeting times are over.
And lastly, I'm feeling repulsed. Repulsed by the fact that this guy gets paid whether we learn or not, and that seems to be all that matters to him.
Two more months. That's it, and then I'm done. Two more months.
Every Tuesday and Thursday, I head to school to sit through another "class," which is really a time for our professor to tell us what a cool teacher he is while getting so frustrated with the students that he - more often than not - sends us all home at least 30 minutes early, usually in the middle of a lecture that none of us are grasping. Mm-hmm. That helps a lot.
I feel like I'm at the end of my rope with this class. I knew it would be different being taught by a native Spanish-speaker (my professor last semester is from this area and Spanish is her second language), but nothing could have prepared me for this.
I'm feeling overwhelmed with the amount of self-teaching we're required to do in this class, given that the instructor doesn't take the time to make sure we understand these things.
I'm feeling a lot of regret for ever having decided to take this class in the first place.
I'm feeling cheated. Every single time he throws his hands up in the air and treats us like misbehaving elementary school students.
For crying out loud, I paid over $300 for this class. The least he can do is remain in the classroom until our scheduled meeting times are over.
And lastly, I'm feeling repulsed. Repulsed by the fact that this guy gets paid whether we learn or not, and that seems to be all that matters to him.
Two more months. That's it, and then I'm done. Two more months.
Labels:
bad teacher,
college,
education,
mcc,
spanish teacher
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