Sometimes it takes someone a little longer than others.

That’s what my grandfather used to tell my mother when I was growing up. She used to call him often, genuinely worried about me. No matter what my parents tried they simply could not motivate me. No amount of punishment would yield the desired behavior.

I am, as I was back then, my own person. I think for myself and I do not follow the crowd. I’ve always had my own way at looking at the world. I was never content with other people’s explanations of things–I had to find out for myself.

In many cases, if I had only listened I could have saved myself some grief. I hate to admit it now, but my old man really did know what the fuck he was talking about. Not all the time, no. But the vast majority of the time, yes.

Looking back over the last 32 years of my life I see a lot of good times and bad, lots of struggle, and lots of happiness. The path I’ve taken through life has been a squiggly line, with lots of backtracks and diversions.

A good friend recently asked me, “If you could go back and do it all over again, what would you do differently?” That’s a pretty tough question. Sure, I have some regrets. I never expected to be a poor, unemployed college student still working on his bachelor’s at 32. But when I really think about it? Nothing. I wouldn’t change a thing.

All my experiences in life have made me who I am today. And I really like myself. Sure, there are things I desire–a family, a career, a home–but I wouldn’t change my life experiences for anything.

Not everyone walks the same path. I sure haven’t. But does that make me less of a man? I’d say it makes me a more complete person. I wish my grandpa was around to see me now. Things are really, finally starting to come together for me. In the last couple of years I’ve managed to pay off all my debts–except for my student loans… I’m graduating next month–a goal I set for myself over 10 years ago. And it really looks like I’m going to get this job with Union Pacific Railroad–a career that I honestly desire.

So what if I’m still struggling to piece things together at 32?

Sometimes it takes someone a little longer than others.

You meet a girl. You exchange smiles, a few words, and you go on your way. Wow. There was something kinda cool about that girl. Try not to think too much about that girl.

Hey, she works in the department office. Hmmm… now I have an excuse to pop in and say hi. Hey she seems pretty cool. She’s smiling, she’s laughing at my jokes, she just touched my arm and stood next to me while filling out this form. Bah, try not to think too much about this girl.

Isn’t that the girl? Yeah, I know her. Hey, what’s up? You like Roman history too? Yeah, I’ve had Dr. Minor before, he’s awesome. I wonder if this girl would go out with me? Hi, I’m Tom. I’m 32 and I don’t have a job.

I’ll just sit a few rows back. She always sits up front. I like it back here, I can be anonymous. Hey she turned around and smiled at me. I see you, twirling your hair around your finger. Fine, I’ll smile back.

Hey, what’s up? Good lecture huh? Where you off too right now? Deep breath. I’m calm, I’m relaxed, I’m hip, I can dig it. Hey, you wanna go get a beer? Yeah, let’s go to The Bear. Sierra? Good girl, she likes beer.

Let’s sit outside, sure. Man, this girl is cute. Don’t blow this, Tom. What? A smoke? No, I’m cool. You go ahead. Awww man. Smoker. Buh.

Your boyfriend bought you that huh? Yeah, it’s nice. He lives in San Francisco eh? Yeah, I’m from Hayward I know The City. No I don’t want another beer. I gotta get to class, I need to get going. Yeah, we should do this again sometime. See ya.

Boyfriend eh? SIGH. Ahhh you were a smoker anyway.

I hate my Advanced Composition for Future Teachers class.

Judging by the title one would expect some advanced composition in the Advanced Composition for Future Teachers class. Well, one would be wrong. One would be very, very wrong.

For the last five weeks all we’ve done is sit in a circle and talk about thoughts and feelings and what we think about teaching and personal experiences and theory. We get in groups to discuss the reading, and we never end up discussing the reading. It always devolves into who she saw last night, what he was wearing, and can you believe she said that. Considering that the class has 30 people, of which 28 are female, one shouldn’t be surprised.

I’ve got real problems with this class. We haven’t done any writing yet. I was kinda hoping this class would help me to become a better writer. So far it’s been bullshit. The professor is trying to emphasize the new wave in teaching, the avant-garde, the new consciousness. Problem posing, working in groups, emphasizing personal experiences and personal language are de rigeur.

The problem I have with this new approach is its irrelevance. Thoughts and feelings and personal experiences might make the classroom more comfortable for the 90% female Liberal Studies population, but it won’t help them get a job. An advanced composition class should be emphasizing grammar, content, and syntax. We should be doing some actual writing in the class (heaven forbid).

I take that back. It won’t help them find a job in the real world. I’m sure all they’ll have to do is talk about their family or what was on Survivor last night and they’ll get the job.

Another problem I have with this teaching style is the issue of sources. How do I know that the dumb fucking sorority girl in the front row who constantly chimes in on every topic actually knows what she is talking about? I don’t. How do we know where she got her information from? Is it reliable? We don’t know. All these thoughts and feelings and opinions are questionable.

Today the blonde bimbo was sharing with the class her experiences in her History class, which she hated. “I just don’t get it,” she whined. Apparently the nasty old professor expected her to actually comprehend the things she read. Then she explained that he asked her not to use ‘I’, ‘my’, or ‘me’. She wasn’t allowed to use any personal thoughts or feelings or experiences as examples in her papers. That old meanie. He was oppressing her by denying her access to her “personal language”. Gag.

This class is driving me crazy. If this is the attitude our future teachers are going to take in the classroom then heaven help our kids. They won’t be able to read and write (that would be oppressive!). Instead, they will be able to tell you what the other kids thoughts and feelings were yesterday.