School's In for Summer

Regardless of strep throat or viral syndrome or whatever nastiness that has invaded my body and wrecked my wing, summer school has begun. I'm already hyperventilating just thinking about it.

First, I'm taking one on-campus class. This is my preferred method of learning, except that this is the one class of my grad school career that meets on campus during the day.... which is again preferable EXCEPT for my other classes, I park on campus after 6, which is when ticketing ends. This summer, though, my class is from 10- 12:30... and parking permits are ridiculous at UA. Like, $200. So, no, I will not buy a parking permit for one class for the month of June. That's absurd. And yes, Tuscaloosa is the hottest place on this Earth in summer... so I'm hiking my sickly self across campus every morning, just to arrive in my building, huffing and puffing and sweaty and gross.

As for my class, it's Intro to Special Ed. I don't want to be selfish or insensitive or whatever, but I've got to be honest here: I am not comfortable with children with disabilities (that's the PC way to say it, by the way). My friend Perkins is a special ed teacher, and he lives for it. I love that about him because I think it's a calling of the heart... one calling that I do not have. So I'm already stressed about this class, and I haven't even started the Service Learning portion. Yes, Service Learning. That means that I'll be working in a special needs facility one-on-one with a child. Eventually, my supervisors will come observe me working with said child. Terrifying.

One of my teachers for Special Ed is Morgan Freeman. The other is a woman from Kenya; she is absolutely beautiful, with the darkest, smoothest skin you've ever seen in your life. She went to British schools in Africa, so from time to time her accent is flowery and lovely, like a narrator on a PBS special. Other times, it has an unpredictable rhythm that's really fascinating. I always expect her to say, "Jambo!" because that's what the tour guide says on the African safari at Disney World.

Immediately, I'm pissed off at my other class. It's online, so I'll never even see the teacher, but I know this much: his syllabus reads like a letter, and says, "Work that meets expectations is B work. Work that goes above and beyond expectations is A work." Okay, so if I do everything you ask me to do, I get a B? Perfect. Hope you're having a sun-shiney day, Prof.

My third and final class is called Career Development, and it shouldn't be too tough. For one, I've had the professor before and I love him. And secondly, it's one of those "self-exploration" classes and, as evidenced by my little blog here, what's easier to talk about than yourself?

Now. I'm going to read for the aforementioned classes. I'm already way behind. It's going to be a rough month.