Okay. So I love English, reading, writing, liberal arts, fun stuff. So no surprise that I'm taking two English classes. One is on Bollywood Film and it's cool to finally see the movies that my Dad raves about, but I have mock trial on the nights that the screenings are so it's hectic to find and watch them on my own time. The second. Intro to Literature. Can I just say that my professor is a tall Scottish man with long silvery hair who rides a motorcycle? Yeah.
AND LIKE THE MOST KNOWLEDGABLE GUY ON ALL THINGS ENGLISH.
He's one of those people that's so smart that you feel dumb in their presence, no matter how much you've prepared for class. But not even dumb, you actually feel bad if you haven't prepared. Like you're not keeping up your end of the relationship if you don't read the three stinkin poems before 1 in the afternoon.
But then. If you do prepare. And you answer a question. And you get it right.
You feel somehow on his level.
Like all of a sudden your stupid little comment about how the trochee in line 7 makes you sad amounts out to "the insipid trochee that is shown in places like line 7 shows just how upset the author is and demonstrates a very emotional and vulnerable yaddahyaddahyaddah more big fancy oxford language".
It's awesome.
It's like Mr. Giaquinta's class all over again! Reading. Discussing. Reading. Discussing.
What else could a girl ask for?
Love,
Ranjini
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