First, because I'm pretty angry about this, I'm going on a rant about my Psychoanalysis professor. Honestly, I love this class and this professor. It's one of the few academic (read: non-art) classes I've really enjoyed--even on days that I don't finish (or start) the reading, class discussions are flowing and productive, and I always learn something. The professor makes witty jokes and hilarious puns, encourages participation, and actually admits when he doesn't know the answer. Our class dynamic works really well--I have a few friends in class and everyone is just nice to each other. So far he's been relatively reasonable with papers (pushing back due dates when they snuck up on us, allowing us to come up with topics together, etc.) and had only canceled class twice.
That is, until last week. We still hadn't (and still haven't) gotten back our second and third papers, so I had (and still have) no idea where I stand grade-wise and style-wise. He canceled class on Monday via a Sunday afternoon e-mail, which was kind of awesome because I was tired and it's my first class of the day. Okay. But let it be know that we had scheduled our final paper to be due this upcoming Wednesday, the 15th, and still didn't have the topic that Monday. On Wednesday (the 8th), he didn't show up to class. Really just didn't come. We waited for almost half an hour before we decided we were just wasting our time and went to get coffee. And we just got an e-mail about it. TODAY. Which might have been prompted by my (very polite) e-mail asking about the final paper topic, because yesterday, there five days between me and the final paper being due. A final paper that was supposed to be 7-10 pages in length. Granted, he pushed our paper back until Monday (the 20th), and cut the length to 5-7 pages, but honestly I'm not leaving this until then. My printmaking project will get done during studio time on Tuesday, and this paper is the only other thing I have. Plus, the 20th is the day of my wisdom teeth surgery. Thanks but no thanks.
AND HERE'S THE WORST PART. Let me quote directly from his e-mail: "[Your] papers, all of them, on Monday (30 papers x 20 min/a paper = 600 minutes, or ten hours. It's been hard to find ten hours this semester -- but it's my job)."
YES. That IS your job! And I can guarantee that I spent more than 10 hours writing your goddamn papers. There's absolutely NO WAY I spent less than 3 hours on each of those papers. None. Zip. Zilch. What kind of nerve do you have to even SAY that? It's this total disregard for my time and my effort that makes me angry. SO ANGRY.
But. Moving right along. Here are my days 10 and 11--sorry I haven't actually been doing one every day. Even without a lot of finals and things, it's a hectic time of year.
Day 10: Who spoiled Santa Claus for you?
I'm going to assume my parents on this one. There came a point when my parents didn't even put the presents under the tree during the night, and my sister and I would have to go upstairs and rifle through their closets for the presents and bring them down. Now, we usually put them under the tree a day or two ahead of Christmas, all wrapped and pretty!
Day 11: Favorite gift received as a child?
One of the first years my sister and I were aware enough and had enough money to buy each other presents, she bought me one of those dog-robots that followed you around and you had to feed and stuff. I was obsessed with it for a few weeks. Then, as it always happens, it lived in the basement near the dog cage for years. Oh well.