Name: Beckett Amelia Hughes
DOB: o3-01-1986
Hobbies: Reading, Writing, The Travel Channel(for my traveling hobby)
Major: Psychology? Biology? English?
Year: Junior
Favorite Authors: Langston Hughes, Sylvia Plath, Ayn Rand, Ernest Hemingway, Anne Whitney Pierce, Elliot Pearlman.
Future Plans: Writing, Medicine, Journalism.
Allergies: None that i am aware of.
Why are you taking this class: because it was the only one open.
Today my English teacher asked us to write down things about ourselves on a note card. As soon as i saw the card i was already beginning to hate him. He's young, says the word professional too much in conversations "I like to be professional" "that's not professional" "we are all adults be professional", and is uber excited that he is now Dr. Gilbert instead of Mr, though he only looks 27. He's actually really nice, but i don't know if that is a bad thing or not yet.
I hate the teachers who are like everyone's best friend. The girls and guys feel like they can relate to them because the professors says cool, and awesome. Some how it worked yesterday when Mr. McTeachy cursed, and walked around the classroom as if he owned the room. Mainly because we kind of know we could never hang out with him, he's too cool, too adulty, too hot for words.
This guy though is an average Joe. He tells lame stories, is friendly with the ladies, and wants to be taken seriously while rocking converse shoes(they weren't converse, but you get the picture). The class seems interesting, despite the note cards from hell.
As soon as we were done with the note cards he began going through all of them. Calling on each and every last person reading what they had written down. The whole time i was praying he would just call my name so i could be done with the whole thing, but of course i was the last card he picked up.
By then someone had already named my favorite author, and i didn't have anything to say. So i awkwardly nodded and said yes to something he asked. He was perplexed(seriously he looked confused) when he read i had taken Realism already. I think i literally saw him take a mental note, and i am hoping he just has confused faces and won't go asking about me if the two happen to cross paths(i always wondered if professors talked about there students to other professors)
After a very long day, i headed to my first therapy session in a long while. I was a little worried how it would go, i mean we hadn't had a session in so long, i was worried she would forget everything that i had said.
But we embarked on my quest for...well i don't really know, as if i had just seen her. Apparently i am making strides in whatever i am trying to overcome. She says she can't imagine that i have anxiety, because the person she sees in session with her is personable, friendly, and even smart. But that room and my session are like my writings. We are closed in a room in the corner, with calming lights, it's almost like a shell, a warm shell. I feel free to say stuff in there, stuff i didn't even know i felt.
But as soon as i leave that room, or any other place of comfort i am like a turtle escaping into my shell, not wanting to brave the harsh world out there. So apparently i have to work on that, she is having me write down every distorted thought i have about myself down, and then i have to write why the feeling arose and a counter statement against it. Apparently it is to teach me to reorganize my thinking, or something.
It's just that sometimes i feel like i am in a bubble. I am equipped with all the tools to survive outside that bubble, but i can't find the incentive to leave. I see everything that is outside of the bubble, things i want to touch and possess, but i am unsure of how i well i will do outside the walls. It's safer here in my own thoughts, i don't know how i would survive outside of that. It's kind of scary.
We'll see what happens.
Time to go study.Lately i have dreaming about on "Inside the Actors Studio". I have just always wanted James Lipton to ask those 10 famous questions. But since appearing on his show may take a while, the blog world will do just fine.
What is your favorite word? Home
What is your least favorite word? Fa**ot( i couldn't even spell. I hate that word so much)
What turns you on [creatively, spiritually or emotionally]? The moments in between.
What turns you off? Anger
What is your favorite curse word? Son of a Bitch
What sound or noise do you love? Purring Cats...no wait...genuine Laughter. Definitely Laughter
What sound or noise do you hate? Doors slamming
What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? Journalist
What profession would you not like to do? Dentist
If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? See, I told you it wasn't that bad. Welcome home Kid.
What is your least favorite word? Fa**ot( i couldn't even spell. I hate that word so much)
What turns you on [creatively, spiritually or emotionally]? The moments in between.
What turns you off? Anger
What is your favorite curse word? Son of a Bitch
What sound or noise do you love? Purring Cats...no wait...genuine Laughter. Definitely Laughter
What sound or noise do you hate? Doors slamming
What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? Journalist
What profession would you not like to do? Dentist
If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? See, I told you it wasn't that bad. Welcome home Kid.
Answers are subject to change later on in life though.
4 comments:
great post.
yes, professors talk about their students to other professors, but not usually by name (and then by name only if really praiseworthy). i wonder if you would like having ME for a teacher....i curse and want to be called by my first name (I'm not a Dr yet, i'm not a Ms or Professor - all that seems really pretentious) and I tend to be sort of weirdly sarcastic when i teach.
young professors making you call them "Dr" is in my book a sign of big fat insecurity. the only reason we get to be teachers is because we've been in school for a million years - we're not particularly special or awesome or anything.
my early therapists said that i should use the "safe space" of therapy as a way to practice ways of being in the real world. like if i was unhappy about a session, it was important for me to confront the therapist about it -- and since confrontation is my big problem, it was good practice.
incidentally, i always dress up in quasi-professional clothes to teach. but i never use the word professional. i DO say "we're all reasonably grownup people, you don't need to raise your hand to be able to speak, we all know the rules of conversation so that is how class discussion will go."
is that terrible? would you think a teacher was dreadful for saying such a thing?
I think your teaching style would be like my last professor, and i LOVED HER.
She was funny, straight to the point, acted out scenes to make class interesting, and let us watch TV(educationally of course to explain realism and reality) on our last day.
I like teachers who lay their cards on the table, who don't mind swearing and aren't stuffy like some professors.
But he, DR/MR Gilbert, simply doesn't have the attitude to back up such ease with his students. He reminds me of someone trying to play grownup.
And maybe it my authority issue but i still haven't been able to call a teacher by their first name. I'm working on it.
And i wouldn't think any teacher dreadful who simply laid down the rules of discussion. As long as they don't call on me when i have that confused look on my face.
i ONLY call professors by first names, have ever since college (we were all hippies and very democratic there). but it was good - it made them, the profs, seem like real people. a lot of them were also upfront that their ideas and opinions were just that - ideas, opinions, not THE TRUTH!! and we could argue and disagree all we liked.
also, i cannot - just CANNOT - think of myself as Ms Kbryna or Professor Kbryna (also i am not really a professor yet). Dr Kbryna, when i get the PhD, will be too pretentious for words.
you should come to my class sometime and let me know how i'm doing. ;)
(and i never call on the confused-looking kids)
"Son of a bitch." That's nice. One of the nicer curses out there. I need to find something better than "freakin' a-" or "what the freak." It just sounds so teeny-bopper. Christians get robbed of all the best swear words, those having to do with deity and damnation.
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