Sunday, December 03, 2006
Before coming in to work this afternoon I sat at the table in my lair, agenda open to the first week of February to plan a hypothetical class/work schedule. Latin and Greek both meet only twice a week (Greek at eleven on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Latin at two Wednesdays and Fridays), and then I would also have a business communications section that only meets on Tuesday evenings (for three hours- oi weh). Around this I am scheduling five six-hour work shifts, to optimally have three over the weekend, so that I will not be a zombie during the week.
This semester I have closed every Tuesday night, with Dr. Reed's class beginning at ten the next morning. Consequently, every third entry of notes appears shorter and less cohesive than the rest, with loopy, illegible handwriting and ink trails every couple of lines, delineating the path of my pen tip as I lost/regained consciousness. I never fall asleep in my translation classes, though, since they are smaller and require active participation. Translating Homer with Avril (another of Dr. Lavigne's appellations) promises to be loathsome, but studying satires with Dr. L'Amour soll viel Spaß machen.
I resent the business communication class, which completes the oral communications graduation requirement. I would rather take a junior or senior-level communication course on rhetoric or almost anything more advanced, but none of them would be accepted for credit. The persuasion class I took at community college would not count, either. Schade.
Ich will ins Bett gehen, aber ich muß die Hausaufgabe machen.
Schade.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 6:28 PM]