While at Tulane I've had the pleasure of having an unparalleled learning experience brought to me by a unique cast of professorial characters--this semester in particular, I had some altogether eccentric people entrusting me with their knowledge. For example, my EuroGov professor reminded me a lot of Miss Frizzle, if Miss Frizzle were Italian, taught EuroGov, didn't have a flying school bus and brought every lesson back to the Berlin wall. My Econ professor, when she wasn't harassing me, would tell us stories; like how sometimes when she ran her sweat would make the leftover soap in her shirts bubble and how her coffee also sometimes tasted like leftover soap. Which to me raises the question, what's wrong with the spin and rinse cycle on your appliances? But that's neither here nor there. My Dana-Carvey-in-Wayne's-World-Lookalike of a Music professor cracked himself up when he showed us Juvenile's "Back That Azz Up"* and told us that he always thought it was funny to show it in an auditorium where kids had been learning to play the cello for a hundred years. My French professor, originally from the Cameroon, constantly hated on Yale and had a laugh (and roughly the same sense of humor) as Rafiki from the Lion King. And we all know how delightful my English professor is. Now that we're nearing the end of the semester, and by nearing I mean tomorrow is the last day of classes (praise Him), I am elated to be free from forced 18th-century novel nightly reading, "pop-up" quizzes (in the words of the Italian), and living under the constant fear the my Econ professor will ask me why I look worried again. She did once. In the middle of class. I wanted to tell her I was worried about whether or not you can be poisoned from ingesting too much soap, since apparently that's an issue for her, but it didn't seem 100 percent appropriate at the time.
Anyway, I can say that it will be nice, even with finals, to only be thinking about being on my own time for the next few weeks. And yet, for some odd reason, I was cranky leaving my English class. Was I going to miss it? Well, yes. It was interesting. I didn't always like having to sit for 3 hours a week in a class and listen to theories of the English language but I enjoyed most of it--and now I was apparently sad because I got 3 hours of time back.
My Professor also announced he would no longer be teaching at Tulane, he would be moving on to the University of Connecticut. Actually he didn't tell us that he'd be going to Connecticut, I just googled that out of curiosity. Now I have to find a new major advisor, which is frustrating on top of depressing, because I doubt I'll find another advisor with this one's sense of aestheticism.
It was in this stormy mood that I headed to my final class of the day--to be honest, I was feeling better, I grabbed an iced coffee on the way which lifted my spirits considerably, but either way I wasn't jumping up and down over heading over to Contemporary Political Ideology. Which sounds like a really interesting class, right? And it is, if you like philosophy, and knowing how modern political ideology got to be the way it is today. I only half like both, so sometimes this class puts me in the middle of struggle city. Also, sometimes when I'm sitting in there listening to what all the other kids are saying, I think, "I'm way too dumb for this school." But that's a story for a different day.
This class is taught by perhaps one of the greatest characters of all--an aged, chain-smoking Englishmen with a bristly, white handlebar mustache and a general disdain for Americans, but greater disdain for the Brits. He's funny though and I enjoy him immensely, except when he writes, "try again" on my papers. I have a theory that he actually lived through all of history because he talks about these philosophers like they're old friends. Like, "when Karl and I were hanging out, oh you know Karl Marx, of course..." Sometimes he would wax poetic about his dogs, and how they were proof morality only applies to humans. And as soon as it started getting nice out, we would have class outside so he could smoke. The whole time.
Today he walked in and said, alright class, we should probably wrap this class up early and head to the Boot, shouldn't we? And that's what we did. The perfect cure to the bittersweet feeling of the end of the year! Leave it to the Brit.
*Juvenile is from New Orleans, 3rd Ward, and we were doing our hip-hop section. Also a really terrific number--one of my all time favorite party songs. Sad, demeaning, and very true.