Round Two

I have been invited to participate in a phone interview for Teach for America.

It's on Wednesday, 2/28 at 3:00 PM.

I'm a little bit nervous.

Zzzzzzz.....

I'm so good at all-nighters it's not even funny.

*Looking forward to 5:00 PM when I can actually sleep.

Sometimes it Sucks to Be an English Major

One of my roommates popped over the top of the couch today and asked me if I would edit her paper. Sure, why not. I'm an English major, I should put some of these skills to use. Plus, if I'm going to be a teacher, I should probably get into the swing of doing things like editing.

I went upstairs and flopped on to my bed with essay and red pen in hand. I quickly found that I wasn't dealing with an editing problem, I was dealing with a writing problem. My roommate, who happens to be a business major, has never been asked to write a thesis-driven paper. As someone who has been writing at least two thesis-driven papers every semester for the last four years of my life (and probably more), I could not believe that a college junior could not piece together a coherent argument. This sounds like I'm ragging on her doesn't it? Well, that's not what I'm getting at. She is a business major, and as such doesn't have to write this kind of paper. She hasn't sat through countless workshops about writing a good thesis. Honestly, I do not necessarily think the poorly argued essay was her fault. As I read, I recognized that she put considerable time and effort into it, but it lacked unity of thought. She attempted a thesis but produced a weak argument.

This just got me thinking: why, in 15 odd years of education, has no one taught this girl how to write an analytical, thesis-driven essay? I was first introduced to that skill in middle school and had persistent tutelage in the art of the essay throughout high school, and now into college.

What is going on in the education system that basic writing skills whose application reaches far past the confines of English class are not addressed?

And while I'm on my soapbox, why is there such a class as college algebra? I learned algebra in 8th grade. Pull it together, people.

Still at the Desk

Still sitting here 1 hour and 45 minutes after saying I was going to do homework. Not good.

Very bad for study habits: JigZone.
Also very bad for study habits: Facebook. Bad Facebook.

Can't stop listening to: Sufjan Stevens. He's amazing, really. No, really. I seriously can't stop. So great.

I'm really going to study now. Really. Maybe after one more puzzle....

On the Eve of an Uncomfortable Week

I find myself sitting at my desk on a Monday night, looking through the blinds at an uncomfortable week. I had hoped to lessen the pressure by getting stuff done Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Unfortunately, I spent most of Friday writing an essay, letter of intent, and resume for my Teach for America application. Saturday I sat around, played some Nintendo, did some reading, and tried to ignore my stuffy nose and sore throat. Sunday was full of BM shopping and more sitting around due to the feeling like crap. I think being nervous about getting my application in had a lot to do with not being able to focus as well. Ever time I sat down to study, I got antsy and had to get up and do something.

So that puts me here, Monday night, with two hundred pages to read, and seemingly endless notes to go over. Added to that is the knowledge that the class I'm studying for doesn't really matter. In fact, the only thing that is keeping me slightly motivated is the thought that if I do well this semester, I might graduate summa cum laude. But I actually haven't calculated it, so I might not be able to after all. I certainly don't want to lose my magna cum laude, so I will persist in studying at least a little.

Anyway, this week is going to be busy. I have a midterm tomorrow in Organized Crime. I haven't really done any of that reading either. It is mostly lecture, so there's little motivation to keep up on the reading, especially when I have English classes where reading is essential. And speaking of English classes, I have a paper due in Senior Seminar due Thursday. I have yet to actually finish a book for that class. I'm at least half way through with most of them, so I just need to pick one and finish it, come up with an argument, develop a thesis, and write the actual paper. Needless to say, this week is going to be busy. I might be pulling an all-nighter on Wednesday.

In other news, I'm stage managing the play (more like collection of scenes) we're doing in my Theatre Encounters class. I need to get with the director some time Tuesday evening or Wednesday to piece together and finalize a script for class on Thursday so we can begin casting. I'm anticipating a lot of time being spent on this.

On top of everything that needs to be done, I'm a bit sick. I woke up this morning with hard dried mucus in my nose, and I spent much of yesterday coughing. I blame this on my roommate, who has been sick for two weeks. I think I'm getting over it though. Horray for a good immune system and the time to sleep as much as I need to.

Anyway, I'm going to get back to studying, because, let's face it, that's what I should have been doing for the fifteen minutes that I just spent writing this blog post.

Bad Dreams

I had a bad dream last night. I dreamt that both of my brothers were dead, and I was cooking hamburgers for a bunch of people I didn't know. It was strange. I knew it wasn't real during the dream, but I woke up with this deep ache in my stomach which dissipated when I remember that they are both quite alive and well. And then my cell phone rang and again that something twisted my stomach into a knot. It was my friend calling about Trinidad.

Usually dreams don't stick with me long after I wake up. Even the bad dreams evaporate in the morning sun, but this one stuck with me for some reason. I have snapshots of this dream almost as vivid as if I'd seen them in real life or on TV. There are only a handful of dreams that have stuck with me like that. There's one where I'm late to my own wedding, I show up in pajamas, and I don't recognize the groom; but what girl hasn't had that dream? There's another one where I'm standing on one of the dining room chairs in Virginia and I'm surrounded by snakes (like in Indiana Jones). But I don't remember those grabbing me like that physically, to the point where I feel sick and have a horrible urge to cry. It was strange. Very strange. And why am I cooking hamburgers in this dream?