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interesting details
Nov. 19th, 2004 02:14 amThat they never told me!
This's what happens when you don't read all the shtuff in the course catalog when picking an emphasis for your major. OK, to clarify. The fall of 2003 I was starting freshman year at university and had relatives reading through the course catalog since I, well, couldn't. And mom was like, "there's a print emphasis, there's a broadcast emphasis, there's an international emphasis." And I was like ooh, international hm? I'm going to end up like Claire Marshall, I can really get into that.
Wednesday, I switch advisors. Nothing against my first one, he's a perfectly great guy and got his start in radio and everything. I just know Janine from the forensics team and she's sort of been a second mother/grandmother (I have no clue what her age is but she has at least one grown son) so I'm like okie, switchy. I need to get this done. That is registering.
So Janine is course catalog sniffing for me helping me pick courses for this spring and she's suddenly like, "What the hell are deacon courses?" Then there's a silence in which I *swear* to you a person could hear a pin drop, and in that office that's rare since there's eighteen or twenty public speakers with passion to spare coming in and out of there all the time. And then she says...
"You have to go to Australia!"
My jaw proceeds to hit the floor. Ker-thud. "What?" I'm sure if I could see and had a mirror then, my expression would've stopped Big Ben.
"You have to go to Australia," she says, "one semester and twelve credits must be taken at Deacon University in Australia." Needless to say that took me a *while* to get my head around.
Some time in the next two and a half years I'm going to go halfway round the world... and that's not counting the travel study I still plan on doing as a second requirement for this major. Yikes! Yikes! What they *don't* tell you as a freshman.
This morning, I go in to sort a classes issue that I was having. I get it sorted and get the last-minute info for the swing at ISU this weekend, and then she says she talked to Dr. Tremblay who's head of this program and told him about me, and apparently not only am I the only international journalism major on this campus (which I suspected anyway) I'm the *first* one. He just created the program the year before I came to school here. Oi!
The way it's looking now, I've got a semester in Australia some time down the road to look forward to, and if I take up Shauna on her offer and go with her to the office of international studies so I'm with someone who actually knows what she's doing when I'm there and don't get stuck talking to a student who's working for the money and doesn't know beans, I could have my study abroad time in Africa as well. If I work that as a transfer credit through another university since this one doesn't go anywhere in Africa on its own (how weird is that?) I could still get there. I'll have to ask Lizzie if she can find out where Madison sends people to. Then I have to tell Meg and Bernadette and Michael I'm going to be in their area soon.
Oh, sheesh. Spamcity.
This's what happens when registration rolls around.
And I wanted to be like Lucy Duran...
My parents are going to flip.
This's what happens when you don't read all the shtuff in the course catalog when picking an emphasis for your major. OK, to clarify. The fall of 2003 I was starting freshman year at university and had relatives reading through the course catalog since I, well, couldn't. And mom was like, "there's a print emphasis, there's a broadcast emphasis, there's an international emphasis." And I was like ooh, international hm? I'm going to end up like Claire Marshall, I can really get into that.
Wednesday, I switch advisors. Nothing against my first one, he's a perfectly great guy and got his start in radio and everything. I just know Janine from the forensics team and she's sort of been a second mother/grandmother (I have no clue what her age is but she has at least one grown son) so I'm like okie, switchy. I need to get this done. That is registering.
So Janine is course catalog sniffing for me helping me pick courses for this spring and she's suddenly like, "What the hell are deacon courses?" Then there's a silence in which I *swear* to you a person could hear a pin drop, and in that office that's rare since there's eighteen or twenty public speakers with passion to spare coming in and out of there all the time. And then she says...
"You have to go to Australia!"
My jaw proceeds to hit the floor. Ker-thud. "What?" I'm sure if I could see and had a mirror then, my expression would've stopped Big Ben.
"You have to go to Australia," she says, "one semester and twelve credits must be taken at Deacon University in Australia." Needless to say that took me a *while* to get my head around.
Some time in the next two and a half years I'm going to go halfway round the world... and that's not counting the travel study I still plan on doing as a second requirement for this major. Yikes! Yikes! What they *don't* tell you as a freshman.
This morning, I go in to sort a classes issue that I was having. I get it sorted and get the last-minute info for the swing at ISU this weekend, and then she says she talked to Dr. Tremblay who's head of this program and told him about me, and apparently not only am I the only international journalism major on this campus (which I suspected anyway) I'm the *first* one. He just created the program the year before I came to school here. Oi!
The way it's looking now, I've got a semester in Australia some time down the road to look forward to, and if I take up Shauna on her offer and go with her to the office of international studies so I'm with someone who actually knows what she's doing when I'm there and don't get stuck talking to a student who's working for the money and doesn't know beans, I could have my study abroad time in Africa as well. If I work that as a transfer credit through another university since this one doesn't go anywhere in Africa on its own (how weird is that?) I could still get there. I'll have to ask Lizzie if she can find out where Madison sends people to. Then I have to tell Meg and Bernadette and Michael I'm going to be in their area soon.
Oh, sheesh. Spamcity.
This's what happens when registration rolls around.
And I wanted to be like Lucy Duran...
My parents are going to flip.
