Day 4: This day has 48 hours

What a long day! I can’t believe it’s only been one measly period of 24 hours. I can barely remember getting up and starting the day. It all seems so long ago. At the very least, I feel like today felt long enough to be two days. Here’s why:

Chinese at 8:30 a.m.

I was having an especially difficult time in class today. Laoshi put us into groups and both of my group members decided they would mimic concussion victims for the day. It was like talking to wallpaper! I was trying to carry out the scripted conversation that we were supposed to be practicing and I couldn’t even get a single sentence out of my partner. I only managed to squeeze two words out of him before he just turned away to stare at the wall – just turned away! He wasn’t thinking or pondering his next words. He wasn’t asking a question or looking through his notes. He just forgot we were having a conversation. Sure, he apologized several times, but what’s the use in an apology when the apologizer has no real intention of correcting the actions that caused him to apologize in the first place?

On top of that, I was so busy trying to organize my group for the group assignment we started last class that I didn’t hear laoshi asking if everyone picked up the homework sheet we were supposed to have done for next class. Luckily I have Kitty in my class and I just scanned her sheet – yet another good excuse to use my portable scanner. How I love that thing!

Journalism Reporting Class: Take 1

Kitty and I headed to our first reporting class of the semester at 11:30 a.m., right after Chinese, only to discover that there were only two people there. They were both mirroring our blank looks. Where was everyone? It appears none of us paid much attention to an old email that was sent out earlier. Our class, which is supposed to be from 11:30 a.m. to 5:30 p.m. (last semester, we really only ever stayed until 2:30 p.m. and we were hoping for the same this year), has been shifted down a block this semester. Now we have class from 2:30 p.m. to 5:30 p.m. I think this is the culprit that as has stretched out my Thursdays beyond recognition.

So I had a lovely three hours to sit around and do nothing. On the plus side, it does mean I can eat lunch at a reasonable hour. I don’t know what I’m going to do on the three days this semester when we have to actually be in class for the entire six hours. (One of our assignments this semester is to produce a mini paper to be “published” on a Google doc. We take turns rotating as reporters and editors and everything has to be done in class – not looking forward to that! The vein in my forehead is definitely going to burst when that happens. Just you wait.)

Journalism: Take 2

When we returned at 2:30 p.m., class was finally underway. We did the usual introductions and overview of the course, but of course journalism has to live up to its reputation of being the course that loves to throw heaps and heaps of assignments on you before you can even get through the door. We had an in-class exercise to do, which made me realize how rusty my writing has gotten over the break, and we had a pseudo news conference. Our teacher (I say teacher because he says he’s not a prof) acted as a police spokesman and made up a news story for us to write about. We all had a chance to question him and we have to write an article on it by Sunday. Let the games begin.

Looking at it all now is a little overwhelming, but I’m praying that when the time comes, I will be equipped with the grace, dignity, pose and knowledge needed to complete the task laid before me. I’ll be able to rise to the challenge, greet it with arms outstretched and head held high! I’ll look it in the eye without a twinge of fear or intimidation and as I exude confidence, I shall conquer those assignments with pride.

Or more realistically, over the next 12 weeks, I will become yet another basket-case largely resembling the swirling vortex of entropy I was last semester. There will be the swelling of bags under eyes, tearing out of hair, groans of anguish, wringing of the hands, flapping of the arms and several trips to Starbucks for the magical healing powers of the triple-shot latte.

Well … there’s something to look forward to.


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