Ninth Day

Today was my first day of classes. I woke up at seven forty for my class at nine, brushed my teeth, ate a sandwich, got dressed, and went to Harvey Hall. I arrived a little early and sat out in the hall. After the time for class to begin had come and gone, I suddenly realized that today was Tuesday, not Monday. Thankfully, my Tuesday class (Latin American History) started at nine forty on the same floor. Slightly embarrassed of myself, I went and sat outside of the correct door.

While I was waiting outside, I heard an unusual amount of shouting and ruckus from inside my future classroom. It was happy sounding ruckus, so I wasn't concerned. Once everyone from that class had left, I went and sat down in the room. Lo and behold, the same teacher that had taught the previous noisy class was going to be my instructor as well.

My foreknowledge of his noisy, happy tendencies aside, I knew that this man would be the perkiest teacher I've ever had as soon as he opened his mouth. I was proved right: for the rest of the period (and a bit beyond) he jabbered on happily about Latin America, and somehow made everything we spoke of relevant to it.

After that class ended, I went to the campus bookstore to purchase toothpaste, pencils, and composition notebooks. I then proceeded to trudge back to my dorm so that I could finish off the last of my bread and sandwich meat, not to mention reorganize my back pack. Once one thirty rolled around, I trudged back to main campus to go to my Biology class.

I found my Biology teacher to be rather pleasant as well, although infinitely more quiet. He told us that for the entire semester we would be researching the effects of various chemicals on the microorganisms that reside in lake Menomin. Though today was technically a lab day for Biology, Scott (as he has said we may call him) didn't hold us for the entire time. I returned to my dorm once again.

Once I collected a package of mine from the mail room, I headed up to my dorm to check out this school's version of Blackboard: D2L (desire to learn). I discovered that my rambunctious professor had already posted thirty-three pages of material for us to read and made note of a quiz that would follow it. I read nine pages of the dry stuff before crying uncle; thankfully, I had already found the answer to one of the questions. Due to this event, I'd be willing to wager that my most difficult course this semester will be Latin American History.

I remember now that the first three days of every class are always intimidating. It's almost as if the professors are trying to see who they can run off before turning around and sharing a giant apple pie with those who stuck around. ¡Ay, Dios mío! but this will be an interesting first week.