Papers, Please?
So, the Rock* sent me a letter, asking for every transcript to every institution I've ever attended, including high school. Which strikes me as a little odd, since I've already got a Bachelor's Degree and everything. Wouldn't that kind of prove right there that I graduated from high school? I'd also hate to be judged by my transcript from Tappan Zee (my alma mater), since I was an even worse student in high school than I was at RISD.
The positive part of that equation is that I've gotten better. Now I pay attention. In fact, now I even want to go to school and learn, and pride myself on academic accomplishment. Oh, work ethic - where were you when I needed you twenty years ago?
They also want me to get my medical workup, which always gives me anxiety sweats. While I'm not afraid of needles, try telling my body that. The pulse races, the breath shortens. I'd chalk it up to some kind of leftover evolutionary twitch, a bred-in-the-bone fight-or-flight response, except I doubt that my ancestors were being pursued by roving packs of Rubella inoculations.
Still, all of this is manageable. A few faxes, phone calls and suppression of the Pussy Response and it's all taken care of. What's a little annoying to me is that for some reason, no-one in the department will agree to meet with me to help me design my curriculum. They just keep redirecting me to the general advisor. Who's great, don't get me wrong, but it was she who suggested I should talk with someone in the department as my next step.
Perhaps this is a fourth, unstated part of the placement test. First the written portion, then reading comprehension, then math, then a psych profiling of your ability to maneuver the bureaucratic intricacies of the college? Presumably you pass when you get to sit with the professor, which I imagine involves me impressing his A.I. door by being able to hold both Tea and No Tea at the same time.
Anyway. I have a month to sort this out. And I'm not above bribes.
D.
*Rockland Community College, that is, not Dwayne Johnson. He doesn't ask. He just takes. Can you smell what the Rock is teaching?
The positive part of that equation is that I've gotten better. Now I pay attention. In fact, now I even want to go to school and learn, and pride myself on academic accomplishment. Oh, work ethic - where were you when I needed you twenty years ago?
They also want me to get my medical workup, which always gives me anxiety sweats. While I'm not afraid of needles, try telling my body that. The pulse races, the breath shortens. I'd chalk it up to some kind of leftover evolutionary twitch, a bred-in-the-bone fight-or-flight response, except I doubt that my ancestors were being pursued by roving packs of Rubella inoculations.
Still, all of this is manageable. A few faxes, phone calls and suppression of the Pussy Response and it's all taken care of. What's a little annoying to me is that for some reason, no-one in the department will agree to meet with me to help me design my curriculum. They just keep redirecting me to the general advisor. Who's great, don't get me wrong, but it was she who suggested I should talk with someone in the department as my next step.
Perhaps this is a fourth, unstated part of the placement test. First the written portion, then reading comprehension, then math, then a psych profiling of your ability to maneuver the bureaucratic intricacies of the college? Presumably you pass when you get to sit with the professor, which I imagine involves me impressing his A.I. door by being able to hold both Tea and No Tea at the same time.
Anyway. I have a month to sort this out. And I'm not above bribes.
D.
*Rockland Community College, that is, not Dwayne Johnson. He doesn't ask. He just takes. Can you smell what the Rock is teaching?
posted by Dave Kopperman | 9:18 PM
6 Comments:
Tremendously unfair to judge a 37 year old by his 13-17 year old self's achievements (or lack thereof). Hopefully the transcript is a technicality and will sit unopened in a file drawer somewhere.
I wouldn't mind being judged for my artistic accomplishments when I was 16-17. As lousy as I was at academics at that age, I was well ahead of the curve in art - drawing, at any rate.
Remind me on Thursday - I'll show you some vintage Kopperman. And it turns out I still have that crazy 16 pp full color wedding invite - a must see. You may have and threaten Greg with it.
D.
Yeah the process sounds shitballing to me... I have similar anxieties to you so I empathize..
I think women in general are calmer than men about needles. Whether that's specifically a gender thing or not I don't know. But despite all of my mental efforts, I'm still a difficult, skittish and cranky patient.
D.
Why are you going to school? Not to teach, I hope.
Teachers make way less than decent designers. Getting a certification in something technical?
You hope wrong. I am going to ultimately get a Masters in Education.
D.
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