Laura D Durham

New semester, new class!

I really enjoy being a student. If I could do it professionally, I would. This semester I went with a class that I didn’t need for my degree but could use since I am also taking an income tax course what will take up a lot of brain power. I took a class called Process of Communication ’cause that sounded damned interesting. And it’ll be useful to learn how communication occurs when I am trying to help people file their taxes. Win-win!

Or so I thought until I was served a big ol’ helping of Nope.

The instructor first warned everybody that if they took this particular comm course to avoid public speaking, they were going to be disappointed since there were a couple of public speaking assignments. Meh, I’m not too bothered by doing speeches or presentations. No big. She went over the assignments and said APA format would be required and I quivered a little at that, but figured I needed to suck it up and finally stop dodging APA. It’d be cool.

But when she said, “The course will mainly be done in small groups,” I nearly stood up and went “Oh, hell no!” and storm out.

I don’t do small groups. I equate small group work to nails on a chalkboard or a chili pepper enema or underwear with worn elastic. No, Just no. God, no.

Therefore, I began to subtly pack up my things and wait for a good time to make a break for the door in case the instructor wanted to start her grouping on the first day. And then something horrible happened. She started telling us all the things we would learn in class, and damn it I want to learn that stuff. It is right up my alley of exploration. I even started thinking of changing my major to communication studies, which I do every semester that has a class I totally dig (I’ve decided to be everything from a biologist to a mathematician to a business manager).

So, I’m stuck. The teacher is awesome, funny and smart, and the material is incredibly intriguing and engaging. But I must traverse my own personal hell to get to it. Save me.