oh, the irony.

So, Karen G, across the cubicle from me, doesn't even ask me anymore if I am still writing.

I am - just papers for school and work stuff.  I switched schools this fall after learning the hard way that online classes are not conducive to the way I learn - much too easy to put out of mind until an hour before a discussion post on the Yanomamo Tribe is due. Though all I really had to do, if I wanted, was read the prior posts from students before me and change mine up a bit.  Which I didn't do.  But, knowing that I could, somehow made it feel like it didn't matter whether or not I tried. It felt like such conformance.  A checklist - just a means to an end.  And, instead of checking off my list like all the smart people who were getting closer to their degree with every check mark, I'd get all distracted with how it wasn't fitting with what I had pictured - grand visions of lecture halls with brilliant professors initiating deep philosophical discussions.  I wanted to learn and think, not just cram and then forget it all.  And with these grand ideas, I'd start to biff.  And, then I'd feel like a loser.  Trying to explain it is like trying to explain myself when my house is trashed - part of the reason it is so messy is really just because I want it so clean.  But, subconsciously I know that the level at which I am reaching for is so unrealistic, I go check my email, make nachos, and shut down.

So, I switched.

There are still no halls.  No deep philosophical discussions. My Liberal Arts instructor has a business degree, works for GM, and made a derogatory comment about "queers in fields of daisies sprinkling glitter". Because that is apparently what gay people do, I guess. During my first night, it became clear that the man leading the orientation knew much of my family, as most - including my parents - are alumni of this evangelical (oh, the irony) university. Upon realizing this connection, he closed his eyes, raised a closed fist heavenward, and said very pastorly, "Stalwarts. Righteous stalwarts of faith, they were."  He returned his gaze back to me and said, sadly this time, "Carin, I bet you were not able to talk about your faith at your previous school, now were you?"  I didn't answer.  From there, he had us go around the room and share our religious affiliation/denomination.  "Carin," he said, smiling with pride, "I think I know yours." I tried not to laugh. "Actually, I don't really go to church.  I've been exploring atheism and am kind of...uh...agnostic."  Awkward.  With that, we were on to Laura, from Trinity - where the spirit is alive and moving.  We finished and concluded by watching a short DVD about the history of the college, the denomination, and a virtual tour of the main campus.  Out of nowhere, I got choked up with nostalgia as the screen filled with familiar landmarks recalling tradition and childhood memories.

I now have one class left before starting the next "module". My attitude is changing. I'm accepting that I am not nineteen. I can't really enroll at Wellesley or Kingsport Ladies College. While I do want to learn, I also have three girls to take care of as well as a full time job. So, my options are pretty limited.  And so far, this is working.  The accelerated classes do well for my inattentive, all or nothing mind that quickly loses steam after going gung ho with sharpened pencils and deans list aspirations. My classmates are good, caring people. The satellite location is close to my house so I feel a little less bad for my boxcar children back at home. It just happens to be...evangelical. So, I get frustrated sometimes.  Like the queer comment.  And, the time the instructor voiced his disappointment in his eldest daughter who had "walked away from the light" (GUH).  But when I get frustrated, I speak up. I throw chairs and push tables over.  Not really.  But, I do ask why.  And, I propose another thought.  Like, maybe his daughter has perhaps walked into the light.