She made me do an in-class write about a piece of bark.

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Originally uploaded by Lady Rachem

So, I think that I will write about my classes, because I am sticking around the castle this weekend with not much to do besides stare at my laundry, and nothing to eat besides the local bakery food. My stomach feels like one big loaf of bread.

My first class every week is History of Renaissance and Baroque Art. This class worries me because I am under the impression that I don’t really have to do anything. Two chapters of reading due? No worries, we’ll summarize it in class. Taking notes on the PowerPoint presentations, are you? Forget about it- everyone gets a copy of the slides before midterms.

I still do take notes and do the reading and try to speak up in class, because years upon years of being a straight-A student (yes, thank you, thank you) has rendered me incapable of just sitting through a class without putting in any effort, regardless of what the focus of that effort may be. Maybe I should just bring Play-Doh to class. Or do ab workouts in the back. Anything will do, really.

My second class is my Honors class, which I have been dreading since last spring because it is a science class focusing on…DUN dun duuuunnn…EVOLUTION! Grace Christian School was pretty hush-hush on evolution, so I was terrified that going in I would be at a complete disadvantage and that everyone would point and laugh and throw rocks at me. This, however, has turned out to be not at all the case. Although I was able to get a pretty great reaction when I told the class that all I had really been taught about evolution was that supposedly the only people who believe in it hate God, the professor and students have been patient with and tolerant of my Doubting Thomas approach to the class, and I have learned quickly that I am not the only one who hasn’t studied the subject before.

I am really not too concerned that this class is going to rip the metaphorical religious rug out from under my feet and turn me into an atheist. If, by the end of this class, I am faced with the fact that, okay, evolution is probably true, dude, whatever. It is not going to “shake my faith” or turn me into some kind of heathen. I mean, please, even the Pope believes in evolution. The main thing I am trying to avoid is a blind acceptance of evolution, just as I avoid blind acceptance of organized religious doctrine. Evolutionists are as guilty as anyone else at seeing what they want to see, as we have learned in the first couple of weeks. So, I have no qualms with being the obnoxious student who demands that everything be explained and nothing be glossed over, because although many evolutionists are purely interested in the science of it, there are many who hold on to it desperately because it supports their vehemently atheistic views (I’m looking at you, Richard Dawkins), and this is just as dangerous and leads to just as many huge errors in judgment as vehemently religious views do.

Whew, that wore me out. Basically this class is going okay. I got a “good” on my first paper, which was the highest “grade” that the professor gave out this round, and she brought up my paper in class and said that I made a very important point, blah blah blah. The class structure itself makes me fidgety, because there is very little class discussion time unlike last year’s Honors classes, which were fueled by and dependent on class discussion. Different strokes for different professorial folks, I suppose.

Oh, and also, why did Grace tell me that atheists are bitter and angry and mean and resentful towards religious people? Umm, not true. My roommate, who is in this class with me, is an atheistic existentialist, and we have conversations about this class every day, and find ourselves agreeing on points almost all the time. Anyway, just thought I’d throw that out there. Grace.

Aaack enough about Honors. Good grief. My next class is my creative writing nonfiction class, Advanced Travel Writing or something like that. And…uggggh. So far, I want to spit at this class. I want to throw my feces at it, like a monkey. Like an ANGRY, SILLY MONKEY. It is a block class, which means I have it for 3 and a half hours once a week. Our professor has us meditate for about 15 minutes before every writing exercise, telling us to write from our “orange Chakra, located right above our pubic bone.” I wish I could just relax and think of this class as “cool,” but this teacher’s approach to writing makes me want to bash my indigo Chakra, located right between my eyebrows, into the wall. My cynical side (and lo, what a large side that is) is convinced that she is not Hindu to any extent, but is trying to be trendy with this touchy-feely crap, and while I am fine with meditation and mysticism when it is in its proper place, I am irritated and resentful when it is in an improper place such as my pubic bone. Let’s leave my pubic bone out of my writing career, yes?

Also, she is a photographer, which is fine and lovely but WHY must it be brought up every ten seconds? Every analogy she uses in class relates to photography, and she even asked me to explain to the class what “camera angles” were being used in a certain part of a story we read. What??? I know she and many people in the class will disagree with me here, but unless we are reading a screenplay, there are no such things as camera angles in literature. Not in the way I read, at least. The beauty of the written word is that, when you see it in your mind’s eye, you aren’t limited to seeing it in such mundane forms as “camera angles.” Your mind can overlap things and see images in ways it would be impossible to capture through film. Why on earth would I want to limit my imagination in this way and turn every piece of writing into a feature film? It is a travesty, I say. A TRAVESTY!

Don’t worry, only one class to go. That class is The World Since 1914, aka Rachel’s Second Attempt to Fulfill Her Historical Perspectives Requirement: Let’s Hope She Doesn’t Fail This One, Too. Part of what makes this class difficult for me is the professor’s quiet, fairly monotonous German voice. And although his attempts to needlessly assure us that he does not support Hitler are nothing short of hilarious (“What a small, ugly man! And a terrible painter!”), his lectures are mainly of the Charlie Brown “wah-wah-wah” variety. Maybe it’s a little ADHD of me, but I can’t pay attention if there are no fluctuations in the professor’s voice. I’ve talked to my classmates about this and it sounds like I am the only one with this problem. Oh, well, guess I’ll be relying on study groups come mid-term time.

So, essentially, I am pretty lukewarm towards my classes (except for Travel Writing, clearly). However, it should be noted that I have basically no homework ever, and that homework that I do have is basically along the lines of journal entries. I have spent much more time on these three blog posts than all of my homework combined. I appreciate it, though, because I have much more important things to do than silly busy work, and I think all of our professors understand this.

Hey, what do you know! This entry’s length-to-interestingness ratio is way lopsided, so I’ll cut it off here. More exciting posts in the future, I promise!

Verbosely,
Rachem