one semester left in our undergraduate career. 12 weeks of class, 168 hours of lecture, 3 term tests, 9 papers, 1 group presentation and 3 final exams.
I'm really going to miss those 5am paper-writing fests. and the feel of the seats in the mining building 2.5 hours into a 3-hour lecture. and the four foot square vents in sid smith that blast cold air indiscriminately through all four seasons. and wading across queen's park when it's six inches deep in mud. and the glorious 12-hour physiology marathons in the bowels of robarts. man, am I ever going to miss those bowels.
a couple of my new profs for this semester seem almost human. should make for an interesting last four months. starting with english. though I haven't taken english literature since grade 11 and may have fallen out of touch with the persona of the english instructor, I think this guy is a bit odd, even for a professional artsy. he spent half the first class interrogating us on our favourite tv shows. my abnormal psych prof informed us that next week, he will be bringing in a digital camera to take our pictures, which he will post on his wall with labels so he can learn to address us each by name. this is still u of t, right? but it gets better. health psych, wednesday night, went the full three hours because we spent forty minutes watching a video. the video? an episode of house. the class cheered.
to end the week on a cheerful note, my developmental psychopathology prof shared an interesting tidbit of information with us this morning. in the not too distant past, children were sacrificed in western societies out of gratitude for a good harvest or to commemorate the completion of buildings or bridges. we are more familiar with the contemporary, modified version of this practice. the judicial system would be after your hide if you sacrificed a child and built his body into a bridge today, but we can pretend. ever play 'london bridge is falling down'?