duck-shaped pain

There are only five students in this class. This is one of the things that scared me away from it -- I had originally enrolled in it, dropped it after seeing the low enrollment, and then the professor talked me into signing up for it again. Classes this small mean lots of individual attention (not a bad thing) and a lot of in-class discussion (a terrible, terrible thing). I didn't think I was up for a class so intimate this semester, but now I have to deal with it.

Anyway. I don't learn a lot from discussion-style classes. Whoever claims you learn the most from your peers has to be totally wrong, because I don't know if I've ever learned much from my fellow students. The way I learn best is by listening to someone who knows what he or she is talking about lecture. Maybe it's just the schools I've gone to (none of them among the very best, or even second or third best), but my fellow students have never taught me much except don't be like me. A lot of them seem to be lacking in something: inspiration, ability to concentrate, certain chromosomes, essential medications -- something. I always imagine that in other, better schools, situations indeed occur where students work together well and learn from each other as much as they learn from their professors. Many of you may have experienced situations like this. I, however, have not.

Part of my problem with discussion classes is that I always have a hard time participating. Such classes seem to reward those who can come up with arguments on the fly, or those who feel comfortable saying anything that pops into their head. I'm neither of these people. I can always think of things to say, but I have to work them out in my head first, and usually, by the time I get around to saying something, it's off-topic. Sometimes, I'm lucky and can blurt something out before the discussion changes, but it always sounds so unpolished in my mind.

Anyway.

There are four students besides me.

One of them, J., I have not met. I have him in this class and in another class, and each day that I've been present in one of the two classes so far, he's been off snowboarding. He must be a really good student, because my professors in both classes refer to him a lot, in a fairly complimentary way, without even sounding miffed that he's off frolicking in the snow instead of being stuck in an overly warm room for several hours like the rest of us. If he ever does show up, I'll report in -- if he's interesting.

G. is an older student, returning to school after an absence of many years. [1] G. seems very straightforward and is on the level. He doesn't say much in class, but the things he says are both interesting and relevant. For this, he is my hero.

V. is another older male student, who is not quite on the G. wavelength. As long as he stayed on the exact question posed in class, he seems okay, but once he started to veer off this carefully chosen path, he started getting in trouble. Today, he told us all about his (unnamed) hometown in Michigan, which apparently has a college in it. He went off for a while about how he had once applied to go to school at this unknown college, going into some detail about the application process (the form! the essay!) and how, at the last minute, he decided to chuck it and come here, sight unseen. He had never been to Colorado before, let alone this obscure part of the state, and didn't really give any other explanations for why he decided to come here all of a sudden. This is, however, the seventh different college he's attended -- beats my record of three by a bit. These facts and other highlights of the History of V. kept coming out, unexpectedly, when others were trying to talk or make a point and really had very little to do with the subject. I predict this is just going to get worse, and soon we'll be instant experts on his three divorces or his military service or something else like that, things that I would never ever consider talking about in class, no matter how relevant.

The other woman in class was a real�treat. I am so tempted to stray from my initial-only naming policy, because her first name is so awful. It makes my long-avoided first name seem excellent, which is unusual. Wow, it could be worse is not something I often think in regards to my name. I don't think I'm going to come out and spell it, but as a hint, I'll say that it starts with C., is also the name of a spice that often comes in stick form, and is not something you should ever name your daughter if you ever want her to be taken seriously as an adult. If there was ever a name that called for a first initial, this would be it. It makes me wonder what her middle name is -- is it that much worse?

Anyway, C. is one of those extroverted people who probably thinks that they're an introvert, and as such is probably thinking about how shy and reserved they perceive themselves to be, while in reality, they just talk and talk and talk and talk and talk. There was a constant stream of sound coming from her area for the entire three hours of the class. Sometimes she was directly addressing us, sometimes she was just talking to herself. When she was on-topic, she was okay. But as in the case of V., we got to know way too much about her in the course of the time we were together today.

I made the mistake of speaking to her when I entered the room before class. We were the only people in there, and I felt I should break some sort of ice. She was crocheting some sort of long purple thing, so I asked what she was working on (it was an afghan). She took my inquiry to mean that I was now interested in all aspects of her life, and chattered on for a while about God knows what.

Things I learned about C.:

- C. thinks college is too vague and that professors should spell out exactly what it is that they want from her, so that she doesn't have to think about it too much

- C. keeps getting parking tickets, because she parks in the metered parking spots and doesn't pay (there are plenty of free parking spots on campus, if you make the effort to find them, and the metered spots cost a whopping 50 cents an hour)

- C. doesn't like history (this is a senior-level history class, open only to majors. Odd choice of major there, C.)

- C. drives to school each day from some remote location, and thinks that the college should reimburse her for gas

- C. is distraught because the college won't give her more than 9 or 12 hours' credit for "real-world experiences." To her, a year in the military and 12 years' worth of retail jobs should add up to opting out of science classes, or something like that.

Which is a lot to learn about someone in such a short span of time. I'm sure some of my classmates could sit next to me for a year and not learn so much. I don't mean to be really snide here -- when talking about the topic at hand, she was relevant -- but I can't stand people who just talk and talk and talk, no matter what else is going on. Constant chatter makes me edgy.

Where was the professor in all of this? Off in the corner, looking horrified.

[1] This class is attended entirely by older students. I am the youngest -- even Snowboard Guy is in his 30s. I was used to being the youngest person in the class back when I was 18, but not at 28. Anyway, I think this is because it's a real, practical, hands-on, career-oriented class. Or something like that.

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