Background info: I hated university. Absolutely despised it. There. Now we may continue.
When I was in first year University, I had the brilliant idea that I should take a well-rounded courseload. You know, sample a bit of this, a bit of that and see what I liked. This was obviously a smart move, keeping all my doors open for my no doubt brilliant and exhilirating future. People would bang down my door to hire me with all my amassed knowledge in oh so many fields. So sign me up! I took a courseload something akin to this: Enviromental stuff (as it was my major and all), Geography stuff, english, economics, philosophy, dance, psychology, and anthropology. Well rounded indeed, no? What a brilliant plan!
This was a dumb idea.
In my eager naivety (I think that’s spelled wrong), I thought to myself, ‘I know! I shall sign up for philosophy! I can have all kinds of deep thoughts that can’t be wrong! Ahaha, I’m ever so smart.’
So I signed up for philosophy. I took Philosophy 145, described below:
|An analysis of basic types of reasoning, structure of arguments, critical assessment of information, common fallacies, problems of clarity and meaning.|
Okay, so, I like to argue. I do a decent job at it. I like information, I think fallacies are funny, I crave clarity (hate people who are unclear or unable to get to the point), so sign me up! I’m gonna become an intellectual, goddammit!
I went to my first day of class. Actually, this was my first university class ever. I was scared out of my mind. I was lost from the word Go. Seriously. For four months, I wanted to cry every Tuesday and Thursday, from 10:30-11:20. I had no idea what was coming out of the professors mouth. And he wrote the textbook, so that was no help either. I went to office hours, begging for help and it always made sense there. It was just after I left that my brain totally went to mush.
I did every assignment for that class. I went to every lecture. And multiple times people, I would receive assignments back, with a mark of ‘0’. ZERO. I completed the assignment. I filled in every answer. I got every single one wrong, and he didn’t even give me a pity mark of ‘1’ for like, filling in my name. It was horrid. I think I wound up with an incredible D+. I’m sure I didn’t actually earn that grade, but was rather given it out of pity and his own self-preservation to keep me out of his class the next semester.
This crushed my ego. Did they not KNOW who I was? I was Talea, THE SMART KID! I went to smart kid elementary school, I took all the advanced classes in high school. I skipped a grade! I was an overachiever, Type-A personality! I did not GET D’s!! Alas, I took my D+ and moved on.
Okay. That was philosophy. Then came microeconomics. What ever possessed me to take economics is completely beyond me. Even seven years after the atrocity, I still can’t pinpoint it. It was coincidentally enough, right after my stellar philosophy class. So I would fly across campus to make it there with 250 of my closest friends. I didn’t even bother wiping the tears of failure from my face on the way there, I knew they were only going to continue on into this lecture.
The thing is, I thought I understood economics. I was never brutally confused as I was in philosophy. I got it. Supply and demand, monopolies, blah blah blah. Check. But the thing is, every test I wrote, I totally bombed. I have no idea why. To this day, I don’t get it.
That’s the sign of really not getting something. Thinking you get it, then finding out you don’t, and having NO IDEA as to why.
I dont know why I wrote this. Probably because I’m bored out of my skull here at work. Ah, work. The job that my fantastic university education landed me (thanks UW!). All that work, that disappointment, the tears, the stress, the hating of the city, the hours of reading, the thousands of highlighters, the mounds and mounds of Kraft Dinner, the acquired caffeine addiction, the homesickness, the early morning lectures, the late night studying, the researching, the writing, the horribleness of everything………..all of it culminates to this folks.
A shitty blog started in the hopes of filling the hours of idleness at work. Sigh.
Oh yeah. I almost forgot. Since I came from out of province, I had to write the English Language Proficiency Exam. The ELPE for those in the know. It was me, and 300 Chinese kids.
I FAILED. Please note, English is the only language I speak. I don’t understand how they deemed me unproficient.
I should have taken the hint.