The rewards and pitfalls of a mature student..

This summer, I enrolled in two classes at the University of Waterloo to further my long-term goal of obtaining the Ba in Philosophy I started many, many years ago (it is almost painful to consider how many years have passed). All my classmates have student identification numbers that begin with 20_____. Not me. The first two numbers refer to the year the student first enrolled. Me? I'm the campus dinosaur; my ID# starts with a 94_____. Many times when I am over on campus, I see young people huddled together, earnestly discussing what appears to be matters of utmost gravity. The air of dignity enveloping them lasts until I come within earshot, then evaporates like evanescent morning mist obscuring the far shore of a lake when I realize their deep and serious conversations are about drinking: the best way to get minors past bouncers (girls of age flirt with the bouncers, while the underagers slip past covertly), who looks enough like a legal acquaintance to use their ID, what kind of drink get you the most pissed, how a friend couldn't get to the bathroom in time the night before so puked in the dog dish, the prestige of winning at the beer pong competition at their house party last night, and on it goes like a magic bottle that never empties despite the entire student population taking swig after swig... My bottle, however, I licked the last few drops from years ago. I guess I just don't see the appeal anymore of a drug that impairs your motor functions, makes you think it's OK to say things that the next morning make you cringe, makes it illegal for you to drive, too much of which leaves you with a headache and nausea the next day and, let's be honest, tastes awful enough that no one would drink it at all if it didn't have inebriating qualities. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy a cold beer on a hot patio as much as anyone (except maybe an alcoholic stranded in a desert dying of thirst ;) ).

Right, where was I going with this before I got lost in the desert? Oh yes - my point is that it can be difficult to relate to what at times feels like a different species, a species of which I have trouble conceptualizing myself being, although intellectually I know this to be true. There are other species differences too: the university species seems to have in such a manner as to have selected for various electronic appendages, the loss of which seems to have serious emotional and behavioral consequences, including increased anxiety, an inability to remember tasks, repetitive strain injury caused by the unfamiliar use a writing implement such as a pen. Furthermore, many having this evolutionary adaptation have the annoying habit of talking, loudly, to their devices in almost all settings. It can be quite distracting.

Wow, that philippic wandered so far from my original path, it almost got run over by a bus because it was so busy looking at students it didn't notice the light had changed. Anyway, where I was originally headed was the outcome of the courses I took. I wrote my last exam on Thursday and, damn, does it feel good to be done! Furthermore, it feels fantastic to know that I didn't just finish but that I did well, of which the posted pictures are evidence. I think there is a good chance I will end up with both marks being in the high end of the 80th percentile.

It is the paper to the left which which I am particularly pleased. I was terrified that the professor was going to be harsh grading it because of an email I had sent earlier in the term asking some questions about the assignment. The problem arose because I wrote the email in Notepad, the Windows plain text editor and added a post script there that took the form of the following off colour joke:

Q: How many Freudians does it take to change a light bulb?
A: Two - one to change the light bulb and one to hold the peni - I mean, ladder.

Of course, I intended to cut out of Notepad and paste into gmail only the body of the email. However, I got distracted, forgot about the PS, and selected the entire text. When I realized what had happened, I tried to get in touch with my prof to explain but she was away for about a week at that point. Needless, to say anxiety was high on the list of cognitive activity I engaged in that particular week. Fortunately, as soon as she returned, she sought me out in class and - get this - apologized to me for not responding to my email sooner! I apologized profusely, although at first she wasn't even sure what for. I explained how the completely inappropriate post script had come to be a part of my email. She chuckled and told me that she had much worse. The tension draining out of me was so intense I felt it might almost splash others.

And I have more good news: my success this term means I will be returning full-time to the University of Waterloo to pursue my long-held ambition of completing my degree, a unrealized goal that I feel has held me back for years. It is going to be fantastic!