I have always hated creative writing classes. I hate creative writing. That probably sounds very funny coming from someone who has a blog, but it’s true. I suppose I hate the classes because, unlike a blog, you have to write something. And it usually has to be on a specific topic. I also dislike creative writing because I grew up hearing that I wasn’t creative. My sister, Esther, was always the creative one. I played very straightforward games, without much variation, and didn’t think up creative stories. That was Esther’s job. She wanted to be an author and illustrator when she grew up. She had an Imagination. Me, I was practical (and still am). So naturally, anything with the word, “creative” in it kind of repelled me.
With this in mind, you can imagine how I felt when I was told that I had to take a supposedly optional creative writing course for my degree . . . And why? Because I was not required to take other courses, meant for native Hebrew speakers, since my English is on a high enough level – which meant that I did not have enough hours, and therefore was required to take this course to make up for some of them.
It was awful. It was, in any case, the worst academic year of my life, and I had a teacher that wouldn’t let me do anything to except listen to her boring class and try to write things about her non-inspirational, stressful (because of the pressure), topics. Bad recipe. I ended up taking frequent “bathroom breaks” (mostly to talk to Yitzchak and dump all my problems on him – we were engaged at the time), and the bored soul that my teacher was, she wrote down when I left and when I came back. She then informed the department head that I had missed too many classes and that she would not accept my portfolio.
So, I stopped halfway through the portfolio (why put in effort if she won’t take it, anyways?), and spent two and a half years bugging the department head about what I should do. Should they just count two more of my hours that I studied in my previous college? Two of the excess hours that I learned my minor? Should I do an extra project, retake the course, or take a different course?
It took the department head two and a half years to finally decide. I had made appointments, left notes, called, spoken with the secretary, you name it. Until one day, I got the brilliant idea to email her. And I emailed. And emailed. And emailed.
And finally, she answered me. I had to finish the assignment, pay the appropriate fine, and the professor (with only an M.A.) will give me a grade.
I hate the assignment, so I pushed it off (at this point, a few weeks don’t matter in terms of the fine). I also don’t think it’s fair that I should pay 500 shekels, when it’s not my fault that the department head didn’t answer me two and a half years ago. So I am writing a request to have the fine lowered.
Finally, I am done. That last, dumb, assignment, for a teacher who I have an extreme dislike for and who I hope never to see again, because if I do, I have a few things to tell her, is done. I hope I get a grade that won’t bring down my average. If I want to get a graduate degree, I need an average of at least 85.
I am done. I have to print it, request a fine reduction (or cancellation, if I’m lucky) and turn it in, but I am done. Thank G-d.
Thanks, Yitzchak, for helping me through this all. I couldn’t have done it without you.
And now I am on to bigger and better things. I think I want to become a doctor. Unfortunately for me, Yitzchak’s mother became a doctor while he was growing up, and he’s not willing to go through that again with his wife – or see his kids go through what he went through. So I guess I will become a doctor when my last kid gets married. Since Yitzchak and I want 20 kids (no kidding, but I don’t think we’ll get there), that’s going to be in a loong time. Hopefully.
In the meantime, I have a few certificate courses that I want to take. Maybe when Yitzchak is done with his studies, I’ll do a graduate degree in my field or a related field. We will see.
But I can dream, can’t I?