It's Never Quite What It Seems...

Well, the beginning (or should I say the end) has come, and it's not kidding around.

Tuesday was the first day of seminars and I finished the day with a definite lump in my throat. My first class was a literature class with Dr. Bradshaw. I don't know quite how to explain it, but he walked into the room and instantaneously transformed into the scariest man alive. I don't think any of us could breath. Apparently the first day of class is designated for acquainting all of us with how stupid we are, and it worked like a charm. He started into his little introductory shpeel (which was primarily about how American students have never read enough important literature and how we should be ashamed to consider ourselves true intellectuals) and suddenly turned and asked me, "what's the last book you read for pleasure?"

After recovering from practically peeing my pants, I realized that I wasn't even sure I could read... "Uh... uh... uh, I'm reading Godric right now..."

"Never heard of it."

"Oh..."

"Is it good?"

"Oh, um... It's ok..."

And then he continued his intro and everyone officially knew that I was a brain dead rodent. I felt better, however, after the same sort of thing happened to two or three other people when they were asked questions. I think Bradshaw has some sort of intimidation magic. We all left that room with sweaty palms. It's actually not going to be a super hard class, just a lot of reading and writing (surprise, surprise). Today's class was a lot less terrifying and much more enjoyable. I'm pretty sure I'm actually going to like his class A LOT. It's been really interesting thus far. The only scary thing is that I have to read my first paper to the class and then have my grade given to me for everyone to hear (and he told us to be prepared for extremely bad grades). 

My history seminar, on the other hand, came in like a lamb. I was all worried that my History don would be as intimidating as the literature don. But when Dr. Archer showed up, he came traipsing through the entrance to Keble saying, "alright everyone! Follow me! But not too quickly because I'm carrying this tea here and I don't want to spill it." Nice. I knew then and there that I didn't have to be terrified of this one. Until today's class when I participated in a group presentation to which his only response was, "Well, is that it? You didn't do very well with it, did you?"

What do you even say to that? "Yeah, we were totally slackin... huh!" I'm still not exactly sure what was wrong with it... But, yeah. That was a nice kick in the teeth. I had thought that Oxford classes were all about learning tons and tons, but apparently the first week or so is actually just about continually bashing the system of education you've been in since kindergarten, and making you feel like a total ignoramus. 

It's working...

So, now I'm starting from scratch and trying to learn some stuff and reading my butt off and trying to retain EVERYTHING and pondering two papers that I don't really want to write all that badly. Right now, I'm thinking I might just have to give up showering, or going to the bathroom or something until the term is over, cause there's just not enough time in the day. ;)

Tomorrow I don't have class, so I may wander off into the heart of Oxford by myself and find a nook in which to pour over my books all day. In case you didn't know, this is the coolest place ever!