40 Year Old Law Student

I knew taking two writing classes could be madness. And I knew adding a public speaking class would only compound to the madness, but I really wanted to do this as a self-litmus test. I figured if I couldn’t handle a couple reading/writing intensive classes at a community college, becoming a lawyer is probably a stupid idea.

It has been three weeks already and a pattern has emerged in my study habits. It’s something like this.

• Finish all accounting homework, worksheets and quiz a week ahead of time so that I don’t have to worry about it for the rest of the week.
• Big writing assignments, 2 due each week (1 for composition II, 1 for creative writing). I spend first day outlining and start writing. Second day, I finish writing and start correcting. Third day, I do more correcting and add finishing touch, and the boyfriend helps with final proofread. Then I spend the rest of the day freaking out over how the paper is just not good enough, until the boyfriend tells me to stop freaking out and get the hell to bed.
• Whatever random cracks of open time I have is spent on public speaking class work or reading books for all classes. Lots of reading.

I’m doing well in my writing classes, but I can’t seem to relax and think I’m doing well enough even though I’m getting 4.0s in my writings. My problem right now is that I feel like each writing takes just about everything I’ve got and it still feels like it’s not quite enough. So I’m afraid if I relax, it’s just giving in to “teh suck”. This feeling will go away with more practice or so I hope.

Time is not my friend in adding to posts. However, I do wish to share class writings here. Feel free to judge them harshly since I do not have to hear you read it out loud. Have I mentioned how I get all worked up every time we have to read our own writing in class? I thought people lose their ability to blush after 30, but those people probably did not have to read their own writing out loud.

Yesterday marked the completion of my first week of school.

It had been well over a decade since I’ve attended school that I was extremely nervous the first day. It felt a little bit like getting on a ski lift after not snowboarding for many years. The ride up the mountain built up the dread of having to get off the lift at the top. When riding a lift, for snowboarders, one foot has to be not bound to the board. This made for awkward manipulation of the board because it’s a lot harder to control and the free foot has a way of getting caught sometimes, leading to a terrible fall that I can’t seem to avoid. Then I would have to awkwardly scramble out of the path of people that would slide off the lift with so much grace, one can almost hear Swan Lake music crescendo in the backdrop. Lucky for me, first day of school, didn’t result in my falling at the foot of the school with a pathetic yelp.

All four of my professors are wonderful and likable in their own unique ways.

My Creative Writing: Nonfiction professor reminds me of a younger and not so angry George Carlin. He’s a bit of a cynic, but has a smirk about him that makes me think he’s always laughing at something, perhaps some irony in every situation. It would not be out of place for him to write a book titled Napalm and Silly Putty because of how he loves words that brings your senses into play. The contradiction of images of copying an image off the Sunday comic with putty versus with the catastrophe of war, too terrible yet perfect for imagery.

I feel bad for my Accounting professor because almost 80% of the class are new-ish immigrant or exchange students with hard to pronounce names. He’s the oldest out of all my professors; I’m guessing he’s right about my mom’s age. My mom, when she has to deal with something she doesn’t understand now, she gets frustrated. As she gets older, it’s just harder and harder for her to pick new things up, or I get the feeling she just doesn’t want to anymore. This is like watching the professor do role call, he pauses, scrunches his forehead and tries very hard to pronounce each name like a puzzle he doesn’t want to play.

Everyone knows of a pretty girl in high school that plans on being a communications major. One of the few that follows through on that thought is my Public Speaking professor. She’s pretty and smart with all the quirks that suits a public speaking teacher. I don’t know if she’s single, but if she is, I can bet all her friends wants to set her up with some nice single guy friend they know of because she’s wonderful in the way that everyone wants for their good guy friend. She has a love for cute pumps which leaves nasty red welts where the heels rub up on her skin. The class is about 50% new immigrant/exchange students, because of this, she chooses for us Speak Up! An Illustrated Guide to Public Speaking. After all, she has to practice what she preaches about engaging her target audience.

My English Composition II professor scares me a little in the way a good poker player scares me. He reminds me of Raymond in the TV show “Everybody Loves Raymond”, in that he doesn’t have a wide range of emotion showing, so it’s hard to tell if he’s happy or upset. If he’s part of a parent team, he’s probably always the bad cop. When the class zones out and doesn’t respond to questions, my Creative Writing instructor will tell us if we can blink a response or maybe tap a pinkie, it will help him with feedback; my English Comp professor will yell, “HELLO!?” Bad cop parenting. It’s a great contrast for the two instructors and very appropriate because one is trying to engage our senses and playful side, while the other is trying to teach us structures and get us ready for grad school writing.