I passed my spring classes with flying colors. I was the number one student in chemistry – pretty amazing, I think. Yes? Yes. Well, summer term has started. There was virtually no intercession between finals and the start of the new term. This term I’m taking psychological statistics and world religions.
Psych stats… is, in my opinion, excruciatingly boring. In order to fully understand this paragraph, please remember that I am among the smaller population of people who are completely and absolutely comfortable with math in all its many forms and joys. However, this class is tailored to a completely different audience: psychology students who loathe, fear, and suck at math.
So you might imagine how awful it might be for me to endure such a class. The first day of class mostly consisted of the professor trying to comfort the class and stop them from freaking out, and trying to ensure the students that math really is okay and isn’t as scary as they think it is. The lectures and activities are carried out under the assumption that no one is going to get it the first time the information is presented. So, built into the class is endless repetition… Just to make sure each student gets it before moving on to a new topic.
Basically, the professor spoon feeds teeny tiny bits of stats – one spoonful at a time. And then he let’s you chew on that for ten minutes or so, swallow, and then digest it before presenting you a new spoonful. Um, thanks, but just freaking give me the whole bowl of beans and let me shovel it in my mouth at my own pace.
Even worse… it’s a four credit class. Um, I’ve have two-credit classes which require more study and mental fortitude. I understand that many of the students appreciate and need the slow and repetitive approach to teaching statistics… but can’t you understand that putting me in such a class is sure-as-heck going to frustrate me.
I miss chemistry. Badly. In fact, I miss using my brain. I’m heavily considering approaching the chemistry professors and begging them to let me do research with them. Oh, how I would love that. Plus, I need to start doing research so that I can get into medical school one day…
The thing is, I need that darned psych stats class. Gah! I also need the world religions class I’m taking to fulfill the GE requirements. And oh, how I infinitely prefer that class to the psych stats class! The professor is Korean and has a heavy accent, but I find that if I sit in the front, I manage to understand him. I find
the subject material for that class intriguing. I only get three hundred minutes of that a week, though. And that’s all… Sigh.
Well, that’s my academic life. Me struggling to stay awake in a supremely pointless statistics class.
But!
My dear Arizonan friends, I bring you good news. I am coming to visit you guys soon. The week immediately following the Fourth of July, I will be in Arizona. Just sayin’. (Although, I’d warn you that I’d prefer to spend most of my time with my family rather than all over the place with a gajillion random people.)
In other news… I am considering oh so many things I’ve never considered before. For instance, I am seriously considering being an RA (Resident Assistant) next year. Why? Well… in times such as these, what of being paid to live with freshmen sounds bad? I would get a nice $356 paycheck every two weeks. I would get to know new people… The laundry would be cheaper ($1 instead of $2.25 per load)… I wouldn’t have to climb a hill to campus everyday… I would get my own room… It would force me to not take a ridiculous class schedule so as not to overload myself… It is nearly impossible to get fired unless you neglect your duties (can you say steady job?)…
And I’m just excited about it.
Granted, here are the disadvantages to doing that:
I would be moving into a ward where nearly all the men are premies. … Lame. Might as well shoot my dating life in the foot. For the RA application, you are required to get an ecclesiastical endorsement from your bishop. So I went and got one. The bishop basically just said, Are you sure? We have a very good group of young men here… and he proceeded to give me a rundown of all the happy dating/engaged couples in the ward. He’s a funny man, but he didn’t have to tell me I’d be kissing my dating life goodbye for awhile. Oh, I know – I am acutely aware of this fact. I shall weep bitterly if I end up leaving.
Also not particularly exciting… I would basically be mom to 60-85 teenage girls (depending on the size of the hall), most of which wouldn’t be very mature. I would most likely hear a lot of “Like, omg, I can’t believe he just did that...” and “That is, like, so retarded” and “So-and-so is really cute, but boys are retarded and dumb and like, we don’t need them.” (Yes, I hear stuff like this all the time from freshman girls during random encounters on campus.) Oh the drama that will inevitably ensue, unless I am miraculously charged with the care of 60-85 unusually mature girls.
You see, I was very lucky to have been placed in Robison Hall my freshman year, which (on the whole) housed a group of girls a bit more mature than your average run-of-the-mill group of girls fresh out of high school. My RA Tess would frequently say how lucky she was.
So I’m a little nervous, but really… I’m more excited. I think I want to do this, even with the potentially grueling and obnoxious consequences. I think I could do it.
And… what else? My health has been improving, although this last Sunday I got miserably sick during church – this lasted all day. And of course, at least fifty people wanted to know what they could do to help. And I didn’t know, but I graciously accepted gifts of saltines and 7-Up from my visiting teachers.
I’ve been eating little bits of bread. I’d say that this was exclusively for experimental purposes, but that’s a lie. I can’t help it. Bread is some good stuff. And hot dogs aren’t quite the same without a bun… and pizza wouldn’t be pizza without the crust. And I love pizza. But I haven’t been getting violently ill… So… I’m still avoiding it, but not completely.
Anyway, that’s about all for now. Love ya, Jenna!
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