The moving crayon writes

Last night, I gave my presentation in Quantitative class. It's a synopsis of my final paper, which is nearly done and due next Monday. I was very pleased. The topic was local education foundations and the people who most likely to approve of them. The other students hadn't heard of LEFs before, and had a lot of questions for me.

My daughter had tried to help me format the presentation in Powerpoint, but her tastes are very different from mine. I opted for a tasteful white background with green accents. "You mean you want every slide to look exactly alike?!" she cried in disbelief. In the end, when I refused to add things like moving crayons and cartoon mice, she threw her hands up in disgust and left me to my boring ol' slides.

(And then a fellow student did include moving crayons in his presentation! So distracting. I nearly laughed - was going to ask him afterwards if a particularly headstrong 9-year old had acted as consultant, but you know. That would have been amazingly rude.)

In my Quantative class, the story is getting around about how I was cornered last week by students from the other Quantative section. It seems those students were given more gratuitously difficult assignments by their professor. They were griping ferociously after class last Wednesday, when they spotted me, trying to gather the remains of the snacks I'd brought and leave as quietly as possible.

"Pam," said one, "you have the other Quantative class. Did you have to find your own data source, and do all that coding by hand?"

I eyeballed the door, realizing they were standing between me and freedom. I hedged. "Um, I believe we were allowed to, but he said it was okay to just use the pre-coded GSS survey that came with our class CD-ROM." I edged toward the door, trying to smile reassuringly. Nice Pam, Pam good, Pam brought cookies to class. Luckily, when they turned to each other to gripe some more, I was able to make my escape.

Geez, people, did you not just have this professor for two semesters of Economics? Surely you knew the kind of sadist professional you were dealing with.

Comments

[savvy]

(hangs head in shame)....what was I thinking when I agreed to take his class...WHY Pam, WHY!!!

....on a side note,
I hope you didn't take our griping personally, we weren't attacking you, more kicking ourselves for our moment of weakness. Alas, it is over.

[pam]

(I knew that. But it's a funnier story if I play it up a bit. xx oo)