January 26, 2001
Major Junkie
My classes are at two extremes. My government class is amazingly lecture-intensive, with a smidgin of really cool discussion here and there. I regularly take two pages (front and back of the paper) of notes, most of which are hastily scribbled from an overhead projector. I need to start going over those notes and comparing them with the text. Honestly, I spend so much time trying to keep up my notes with his lecture, that I'm not sure I'm actually absorbing any of what I'm writing down. So I dunno. I see much studying for government in my weekend plans.At the opposite end of the spectrum is my literature class. Notes? What notes? (Although I may be taking more there soon -- more on that in a moment.) I honestly think that my prof's preparation for that class consists of re-reading the story, jotting down a few ideas, then showing up to see what we come up with. For each class session, we read one or two short stories, or part of a novel, whatever we happen to be working on. We also keep journals, usually filled with notes about what we've read, thoughts that occurred to us, that sort of thing. Then in class we spend the period talking about what we read. I love it.
I think a good part of the rest of the class loves it too -- for different reasons. One mid-term, one exam and one paper? No tests? No quizzes? Cool! The discussion, at times, is a bit slow. Yesterday, for example, we were discussing William Faulker's "Barn Burning". I thought it was pretty cool, and had a few thoughts to share about it. Then the discussion got started, and I realized I had tons of things to say about it. I Could Not Shut Up. I tried. Once I became aware that the class discussion had turned into a conversation between me and the professor, I tried so hard to shut up. But then he'd ask a question or make a comment, and just stare at the class. And the class would stare back. And I would wriggle in my seat, full of ideas and thoughts and insights that squirmed around each other in my brain. And eventually, they would find their way out of my mouth.
Part of me was so self-conscious, sure that everyone thought I was an ass-kisser or a geek or... I dunno, something negative. Finally at the end of class, with a superhuman effort, I'd managed to keep myself quiet, and the class just died. The professor rambled interestingly for a few minutes, then said, "Any final thoughts about Faulkner?" Well, I had several, but I kept my mouth shut. In fact, the professor looked at me and said, "Not you. You're not allowed to have any final thoughts on Faulkner." I grinned sheepishly.
There were no final thoughts on Faulkner.
Class ended, and we filed out. Waiting for the elevator near some of my classmates, one of them told me, "I'm really glad you say stuff in that class." I was surprised and mentioned that I thought I talked too much. We talked a little bit about the class, then we all filed onto the elevators.
Walking back to my car, I realized a few things. My literature class is much too short. I never have enough time to talk about everything I want to talk about. I crave this reading things and then talking about them. So much so that I want to beat my friends over the head until they read my class assignments too, and talk with me about them. I'm a junkie. I'm a literature junkie. I'm monopolizing the holy hell out of my class. I'm dying to get out of freshman literature and into upper-level classes, in hopes of finding more discussion. Enthusiastic discussion. Maybe I'm naive to expect that I'll find it at all. Maybe I'm a freak.
I'm of two minds about this. My first thought is that it's not fair of me to take up someone else's educational opportunity. Hard on the heels of that though is, "Well if they're not going to use it, why shouldn't I?" Are my classmates glad that I speak up because I cover for their silence? Or are they glad for my insight? Am I enabling their lazy asses by speaking up all the time?
I would make a horrid professor. A few times it took all I had not to jump up and down and shriek, "Don't you get how utterly cool this is?!" I did say I was a junkie, right? Class ends and I'm disappointed that the discussion is over, but I don't feel comfortable enough to go up to the professor and keep talking. So... this journal thing he's assigned us. He said we could also use it for class notes. I hadn't been, since I don't take many notes in this class. However, yesterday I started writing down some of those ideas we didn't get to in class. It helped. My brain wasn't quite so fevered when class ended. I can't explain the tension of having something to say in class and not being able to say it. It's an awful feeling, this awful, brain-bursting thing.
I think I need some serious help. Although, don't think I need any further confirmation that I've chosen the right major this time...
Posted by Lisa at January 26, 2001 02:00 PM
