Messy Papers

Irony. (Speaking of irony, the Wild Man Show is my favorite thing to watch at the Renaissance Festival. I know they've been doing the same exact routine for years, but it still cracks me up. Especially when they use their "Ironic Hook." Bah-Ha!) As I was saying, this semester has turned out to be very ironic. I was really nervous about my biology class, even though I knew my teacher was going to be really good, and I wasn't too worried about my English class even though I knew my teacher was rumored to be very...well hard. Why? Well because in the past, science just never clicked in my brain, and English did. Most people are the complete opposite. Or so I've heard. But it turns out that I am doing ten times better (that is a huge exaggeration) in my biology class than I am in my English class. It doesn't mean that science is all of a sudden making sense, although it is making a dent. In history class the other day, we were discussing the Black Plague, and our professor really likes to ask questions that he knows nobody knows the answer to. He asked why it's bad that the boils for black plague turn up on your neck, armpits, and groin area. And because of my previous biology class, I knew the answer! (I was very excited.) My answer: "Because those are the areas where the body's lymph nodes are and the lymph nodes help fight infection." Yes, I came across as very intelligent that day. My friend who sits next to me in that class was very impressed because he is an aspiring doctor, and he knows very well that science and Kelly just does not click. So thank you biology!

Sorry about all the long tangents to this post which was initially going to be very short. The above mentioned friend used to call me the "Queen of Appositives" because I absolutely cannot tell a story without going off on all sorts of tangents. As I was saying yet again, it's ironic that my English class is my most difficult and confusing class that I have ever experienced. I often start choreographing dances or deciding what I'm going to eat for lunch in that class once I start getting confused--which is usually in the first fifteen minutes--but then I try to pay attention again and then I'm just even more lost. My teacher must think I'm special needs. I'm in a constant state of stupor. So what I really wanted to say in this extremely unnecessarily long post is that I was trying to spruce up a paper to turn in for a better grade, but I just can't read her handwriting! How am I supposed to fix a paper when I don't know what's wrong with it? I don't really understand why professors of English think that they can just scribble all over your paper and expect you to know what it says? Okay, I've only had teachers like that here at college. Apparently one is supposed to be able to decipher the encoded messages on essays by the time you're in English 218.