Students and Teachers

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As I have made obvious in an earlier post, the students are young. I had hoped however, that since they chose the profession of journalism to study they would be, at least, curious and as well-informed as their years would allow. They are informed about music, movies, TV, games, the internet, ipods, fashion and everything else that caters to their age. They are very little informed about anything else. My hope of finding at least an intellectual bond with them has been....disillusioned.

Most hate reading newspapers and avoided it whenever possible. This baffles both me and the profs who never know why people like these enroll in journalism classes. Unlike the other programs in the School of Arts the journalism enrollees are not pre-screened. They know little about geography, science, politics, current events, past events or anything other or wider than their own young world. Worse, they don't seem curious. Curiosity is the most important attribute of a journalist.

When I was young I was the kind of kid who watched all the Disney documentaries (loved Adventure World) and could get lost in an encyclopedia for hours. Maybe 5 of my classmates could fall into this category. The others seem....comatose. Don't show initiative, curiosity, or interest. Sort of like grade school students who have never had to choose to go to school, or been pressured to really learn anything. Twelve years of school just happened to them - churned into the machine in Grade 1 and spat out at Grade 12 - and they've simply gone along with the process.

They don't seem to be aware they are no longer in the process, and unless they become actively engaged in their learning they will have wasted lots of money and be unemployable when they come out. But then it's their parents whose money will be wasted.  Many get a kick out of surfing Facebook while pretending to take notes and making paper airplanes during journalistic technique video screenings and skipping classes. A group of guys have already congregated at the back of the room. They surf game websites and blow raspberries during class. They look blank or make crazy jokes whenever a question that requires thinking is asked.

To give them some credit the College didn't ask much of them other than passing marks. They did not have to prove any journalistic attributes like being able to write, ask questions, or know their grammar. They could be better suited as supermarket cashiers for all anyone at the College knows. The journalism program profs have protested often about this selection of students, but administration has done nothing about it.

The Professors:

On the positive view of things all the professors have had to be working in the world of jourmalism or publishing before they could be hired. This is a requirement for all the professional programs at this College.

Judy W. is a former actress and newspaper hard news writer. She teaches Writing for Newspapers 1 and loves the hard news format.

Marilyn K. teaches History of Journalism and has written for the New York Times among others. She is a teacher of the old school - the "rap on the knuckles never hurt anyone" school. She is kind of stern, no nonsense. Never say "oh it doesn't really matter, does it?" to her. It all matters. She is currently writing her third book on grammar, a sequel to the other two.

Ellen M. is a whiz on the Adobe desktop publishing suite and teaching us Adobe Desktop Publishing. She is very motherly and extremely forgiving. Threaten to cry and she will always run to your aid.

Marshall M. is very precise which explains why he teaches Designing for Newsprint. He loves fitting text and graphics into a precise space with all the calculations that come with it. I am not a precise person and am terrible at maths.

John G. teaches History and Politics. He is 67 years old and been around the block in several careers, especially publishing. Unfortunately he is like an old fuddy-duddy in every sense of the word. He talks and thinks like an old man. He tries to understand young people but can't help be condescending to them. His jokes are full of sarcasm and put-downs of the interests of youth. It does not make him or his class popular, especially as he teaches all the things good journalists need to know - like history and politics - but that young people have been avoiding knowing all their life.

Gerard S. teaches Research Techniques and is also currently employed at a national newspaper. He has won journalistic awards and investigated the government, the police and federal agencies. He is very vibrant, knowledgeable, engaging and enthusiastic. He has a very male approach to teaching. If you ask him a question he answers, "I don't know, you tell me." He teaches you to think on the run. That means he is not going to make it easy for you to know something you can discover for yourself. He throws you in the water to teach you to swim. No pampering, no molly-coddling. Learn or get lost.

September - classes

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I am starting to panic. I feel like a ghost. I notice the Students' Union is avoiding people like me. Everything on their briefs and bulletins and schemes for making students feel at home and more involved amounts to pub parties, beer pong tournaments and wet t-shirts contests. Why do I feel I won't fit in?

At least I have registered with the Disabilities office and got letters to pass on to my teachers telling them they should excuse my ditziness, confusion, lack of coordination, losses, forgetting of time and place and teachers now don't mind me coming in an hour late, or leaving my assignments in my locker, or misplacing textbooks that this radical change in my lifestyle has only accelerated. I lost 2 more cell phone. After not having lost any for the 4 years I have had a cell phone, in one month I lose 2 and find that my reserve phone isn't working.

The profs are avoiding me. Their lesson plans and remarks are slanted to the experiences of high school students.

Typical situations:

A prof will say something like, "What did you learn in civics class?" How do I answer that? I haven't been to civics class in 40 years.

They'll say, "Close your computers right now! You are all on Facebook and I know it!"

But I'm not on Facebook, and the computer helps me record the lesson. The profs all take on the posture I remember so well in high school, that of a drill sargeant facing facing recruits who will have to be managed. We get a daily sermon about the evils of surfing Facebook when we are supposed to be focused on our future careers - and - do we know how much of our parents' money we are wasting by surfing Facebook instead of paying attention to the lesson? Oh my.

There are answers to lessons that I know simply because I have lived in the world, but I feel very strange answering them because I will be able to answer every such question asked.

After discovering that I do know the names of authors, historic events, an awful lot of books and current affairs they look over me because they expect me to know such things. Friends have advised me to hold myself back and let the young ones shine. But isn't that cheating myself? I have never shined in a college situation, what if I want to shine too? Once again I am expected to accommodate the needs of others over my own. When I lift my hand the profs don't feel challenged. They feel more challenged engaging with inert youth.

"does anyone about Watergate?"

No answer.

I wait a minute or two until I realize no one is going to lift up their hands. I have to lift up my hand. I can't let the prof think I don't know that. The prof sees my hand but ignores it hoping someone who is not supposed to know it will know it, not the person who should know it. Still no hand up from the youth wing. Then she allows ne to answer the question.

"Watergate is an apartment building in Washington, but it is also the term also refers to an event in 1972 that was uncovered by Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein of the Washington Post, which lead to the prosecution of several of President Nixon's aides for burglary and funding irregularities, and eventually led to the resignation of Nixon himself for being complicit in the situation."

"That's right," says the prof somewhat flatly. She wanted one of "them" to know it, she wanted that thrill, that surprise. They were the ones who would have got her smile of approval. I have way passed the point of getting smiles of approval from teachers.

I discuss this with the Counseling Office and get total sympathy. "It's hard for mature students, really, really hard." They see this happening every semester. But they hope I don't quit. Oh I can't quit. If I quit now a mountain of debt would come crashing down on me for absolutely no gain whatsoever, I would have to return my grants and bursaries and I would be even longer out of a job.

September - commuting

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Month one. My whole life is sooooo different. There are 30 people in my class. One woman, Carol, is 48 years old. Everyone else is 18, 20, 23 and one 25-year-old. No one has been rude enough to stare at me or says anything but I can't help being aware of the divide.

The profs are friendly enough although only one is older than I am: a retired former book publisher who teaches the History and Politics class.

The commuting is really hard getting used to. Classes start at different times each day and I have to calculate getting to the commuter train at 2 hours before I am scheduled to arrive at the college. I can walk to the commuter station closes to me which arrives two minutes too late for me to transfer to another train going to my college. I have to wait another 40 minutes for the next train. This could mean almost an extra hour longer making it almost 3 hours to get to campus.

Or I can keep it at 2 hours and ride my bike to a further train station which is going to campus directly. I choose to ride my bike which I know I will only be able to do September, October, maybe part of November because I am no winter cyclist. I will try to get into a carpool, or else I will have to pay an extra $125 public transit fare when I can no longer ride my bike. Or add on the extra hour of travel by walking to the closer station.

Still, I look at the benefits. I get plenty of exercise I had no reason to get before this, and what with carrying 20 lbs of backpack on my shoulders filled with a laptop and textbooks. I have purpose in my life, an attainable challenge and I have already lost one pound.

Orientation

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Okay. It is Sept 3 11:01 pm by my clock and I just arrived home from Orientation 15 minutes ago. Whatta day, whatta day.

The actual orientation was anti-climactic. They herded us to and fro then sent us in different directions depending on what we applied for or needed. No opportunity to talk to anyone really. I signed up for the "mature students networking club". I managed to get a good locker, close to my class, in the Oklahoma Land Rush they foisted on us in selecting our lockers.

Upon cursory examination none of my profs had a glint of psychosis about their body language, which put me at ease. They all seemed like regular folks. None of them guaranteed they would make us men by the end of the year, thank God. I will have to read 3 daily newspapers each day though. This is the "textbook" for the History of Journalism class.

A couple of the 90 students accepted into what will be 3 classes may have been pushing 30, but that's as close to old as I could see. The Mature Students Get-together wasn't much of a get-together. We sat in a lecture room while two people from "counseling" talked 99 percent of the time. "Counseling" exists for students who may suffer anxiety.

The real drama, and there was drama, happened around my attempts to have a successful day.

I had worked it out that I could take the commuter train from the train station not too far from where I live, and arrive in the College Town in about 20 minutes. The train schedule said the trains arrived about every 10 minutes at rush hour and I showed up and waited. What the schedule doesn't say is that the trains do indeed arrive at those times BUT THEY DON'T STOP AT THAT STATION GOING SOUTH. They only stop going north.

I had to go south. So I jumped onto the subway to catch the next best station I could in the time I had, the last subway stop in my city before the country begins. There was another train stop nearby which would take me to another commuter train station and then I could catch the 24 bus right into the College.

I arrived at the last subway at 9:13am. I had planned to be at the College at 9:30 for the orientation which would begin at 10:00. The last commuter train to leave the last subway would come at 9:20. What I didn't figure on was the shortcut to the train station from the subway closes at 9:00am for some God unknown reason. So I tried to run outside the station, around to the street entrance for the train and buy the ticket, but the 9:20 swished by as I was trying to do so.

I now only had a choice of taking the interconnecting buses across another town (a community that lies between my City and College Town) to get to the College, which would take at least an hour, or I could take a cab.

I knew the cab would be pricey but better for my nerves, so I hailed down a cab with a nice Sikh cabbie and off we went. We got to the College in half an hour but the tab was $60.00 with tip. I paid it with my VISA because I didn't have that much cash with me, and all flustered because I was already late for orientation, I paid and ran out.

When I went to put my VISA away I realized I no longer had my wallet. I dropped the wallet in the cab, which was now gone. I brought almost all my ID in that wallet because I had to present a lot of it to collect my government check, etc. It had my social security card and health card which could be valuable items on the black market.

So with this on my mind I put the VISA away and managed to go through the orientation, speeches, etc. I was glad I at least had the VISA because I could get cash on it. Time for taking our photo ID and I discover I have now lost the VISA card. It was nowhere.

However, at security, bless their hearts, someone did find it and turned it in. For a while they wouldn't give it to me unless I presented identification which of course I did not have, but at the end they relented and gave it to me.

I couldn't collect my government loan check, get a photo ID taken, get my software from the IT department, my additional health and dental coverage because I had NO government issued photo ID, no social security card and no health card to show them. I did still have my passport but that was at home.

I partook of the free lunch and then left, walking down to the nearest bank to get money out of an ATM off my VISA card. At the ATM I realized that it wasn't the VISA I could withdraw money on, it was my MasterCard which was in that wallet.

Turning my cellphone back on (it was off for the orientation and speech making) I heard the wife of the cabbie had called me and said her husband found my wallet and wanted to give it back to me. Nice to see religious people acting like religious people should. They lived in a northern suburb.

However, I had no cash and no way of getting any cash. I was seriously facing either walking home, a long, long way, or getting another cab for $60.00. I comforted myself with a turkey sandwich and beer at a charming Cafe (VISA was good for that at least) and called my friend Paul as he was the only friend I had with a car that I knew I could reach at that time. Dear sweet Paul did jump in his car to come and pick me up.

By this time it was rush hour though, with all cars streaming out of downtown towards the eastern or western suburbs and it took Paul one and a half hours to reach me. He also offered to drive me to pick up my wallet.

We had to go a little way west and then far, far north. But Paul got to yakking so much he missed the turnoff and ended up downtown again. So again, dealing with the traffic we inched our way back east and then drove north, arriving at the cabby's home two hours after we left the Town. Then we went out and had a beer and pizza, and I am now home.

Everything was in my wallet. I am so grateful that I lost it in the company of a decent human being, and that I have a good friend in Paul.

I have ADHD, but this was spectacular even for me.

On my way

Posted by Krystyna Hunt in

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The stress has worked. My financing has been approved. I just might make it. I am 63 years old and about to go to college with 18 to 20-year-olds. Orientation is the first step. I wish I had another fool like me to lean on. I am told lots of mature stuents are in higher education these days, I won't be alone. But I am so nervous.

Orientation will be Set 3. I am both excited and very nervous. My entire world is about to change.