That’s right. Picture Adam Sandler as a grown man, waiting for the bus with his lunch box and back pack, singing, “Back to school, back to school, got to prove to Dad I’m not a fool.” It’s my life.
I am not going to tell you how long it has been since I have been in school FULL TIME (12 years) lest I give away how old I am (33) but this is definitely a new ball game.
I will say as well that language school in Berlin was nothing like college and CC is nothing like university or language school… It’s like this:
I am Shirley. Like 100% Shirley. I am so Shirley it scares me, and I can definitely identify each of the other characters in my class mates. So all of my friends have asked me to tell stories… They may be reminiscent of some of my old stories from Waco. Like the time I told you about Hot Guy. The one that Return of the Jordi likes to remind everyone that I kissed on Bagby after too many margaritas at Ninfa’s (on a first date… my character shines questionable here in Bible Belt terms.) I think we also need to be reminded that Hot Guy remains one of my dear friends. He is also still single, though I am trying to hook him up with Rita the Redhead. OK, so we’ve got some characters. That’s all I am trying to say. Here are a few of the first two weeks highlights.
Business: My professor is from the North Shore. He definitely refers to Revere as REVIAH. He sat down on a table and it collapsed, he also frequently asks us if previously explained business theories are, “Wicked clear.” Also, on the first day of class one of the two walking designer label ads that sit in the front of the class asked a question while twirling her Gucci pencil (do they make those? Not totally convinced…) it sounded something like this, “Dona pia lucka lucka assess code?” Let me tell you, every ounce of empathy I have ever had in my life reached for Gucci Girl. I WAS THAT GIRL IN LANGUAGE SCHOOL! So many Germans looking at me in helpful confusion as I tried to figure something out. Prof Reviah responded, “Excuse me?” Gucci repeated more slowly, “Do na pia tucka lucka assess code?” This happened with progressive clarity, and patience multiple times until finally Reviah said, “I am pretty sure you’re asking if you need an access code to gain access to the class online, and the answer is no, if that’s not what you’re asking, let’s talk after class.” I was both totally amused and completely impressed with a school that is so open to helping foreigners achieve. I would have been WAY too chicken to try to go to real school in Berlin, these people are amazing. Also, I am one of TWO native English speakers in that class. It makes for some incredible anecdotes.
Let’s move on to Composition. This class is taught by Prof Cambridge. She is fresh retired from teaching high school English at THE MOST prestigious private school in Boston. She looks like a mix of a 1970’s hippie and a Talbot’s add. It’s strange, but somehow perfectly Boston. You know what I like to say, if it wasn’t for bad fashion, Boston would have no fashion at all. (spoken by the girl who only shops at 2nd hand shops and thrift stores, I believe that’s the pot calling the kettle black) Anyway. This is hands down my most entertaining class because of the Troll. I know it’s mean, but there is no other way to describe her.
This is LITERALLY what her hair looks like, but black. Cambridge, Troll and I were the first three to arrive the first day of class. Cambridge headed to the front of the room to get everything out and Troll in some sort of grunted communication, with her chin pressed tightly to her chest, blurts out, “ARE YOU MEAN?” Cambridge, calm and cool looks at her and asks graciously, “Excuse me?” Troll, “ARE. YOU. MEAN?” Cambridge, winning my immediately respect, asks, ” Are you mean?” No one could have expected what came next, “WELL I AM NOT NORMALLY MEAN EXCEPT FOR THE TIME MY DRIVER’S ED TEACHER PISSED ME OFF AND I WANTED TO PUNCH HER IN THE FACE. SHE WAS TOTALLY MENTALLY UNSTABLE. BUT I STILL LEARNED TO DRIVE, KIND OF.” Cambridge responded kindly, and professionally while I tucked my face deep into my jacket and stifled uncontrollable laughter.
Character two in this class is Master R. He is 65. Reeks of smoke. When he speaks it sounds like he collected all the displaced gravel in Boston and tucked it into his throat. He is inappropriate in the most innocent way and he is my constant neighbor in class, he is also a loud talker (my husband is one, so I am full of patience for their inability to contextually control their volume.) The first day of class he rolled in late, scooted in next to me, “quietly” introduced himself, “HI I’M ‘MASTER R’, I’M REALLY OLD.” (the class snickers and Prof Cambridge struggles to stay focused as Troll compulsively comments and Master P yells privately to me) I shoot back and amused laugh and indicate with my eyes that PC is speaking and we need to pay attention. Master P follows my lead until his cell phone starts blaring rapped profanity, to which he characteristically yells to the class, “SORRY I LEAVE MY RINGER ON IN CASE MY GRANDCHILDREN NEED ME.” Ohhhh the irony.
Math is taught my a very thorough and monotone professor, who so piques my interest that I literally do not know his name. It reminds me of Luigi though. He is in no way Italian, but I am thankful for his attention to detail as I currently feel like math has the same capacity to kill me as chemical warfare. Too dramatic? I cried in the math lab last week, all I could hear was Tom Hanks in my head yelling, “There’s no crying in math!”
And then there is German. Oh German. My professor is a picture of a perfect German. She is rigid, efficient (she refuses to use all the lights for the class room because it is wasteful), she is direct to the point of offensive (she told me I would not do well in the class because I had too much experience with street German and I would get lazy and bored, and then lit up when I told her about a place in town that had great, authentic German bread) and the people in the class are hysterical. My absolute favorite is Boris. I have no idea what his real name is, but it very well could be Boris. When asked why he wanted to take German he answered, “They historically have the strongest government, army and fashion (???????????????????????????????????????????) in the world and I want to learn the language of the strong and brilliant people.” Wow. Wow. Wow. So. Many. Thoughts. Frau WM, in perfect German humor answered back, “Vell, I don’t know so much about fashion, but OK.”
So there you have it. I will try to keep you updated as life goes along. I keep telling Boo this is where we are going to make our money. I keep detailed notes in the middle of my class notes of this hilarity in class, and I am going to find a way to publish it. I am going to need to, especially since AM says I am not allowed to publish anything about my family until her entire generation is dead and even then, I have to change everyone’s names to protect the
I need to make my flash cards for German, there is nothing I like more than proving someone wrong…