An Obscure Rant on the First Byzantinian Folk History Lesson

This morning I went to my Greek class with my professor from last year, and it went reasonably well although I had forgotten to take along my grammar book and although she was speaking in Greek for much of the time.

Then I went to the bookshop where two books were bought by separate customers, one person returned a book since his children already had it, one lady chose a book and didn't buy it since the credit card machine wouldn't recognize that a chip existed in either of the two cards she tried, the post delivery man left a package for a neighbour, two gentlemen came in looking for a book I didn't have at hand, someone from the house management firm came by, I had dropped my key inside my purse so that I fished for it even though J. (who was guarding the shop) waved me through the open door, and last but not least, two or three plumbers went in and out to address a massive overflow into the cellar thanks in part to an ancient pipe. The plumber who explained what was wrong afterwards was polite to me, but obviously not impressed.

At home I had enough time to watch the Daily Show with Jon Stewart, and then I was off to university again for a course in Byzantinian vernacular literature. By this point I had been up for almost twelve hours.

IMAGINE my surprise when I entered the class and, by and by, professors came in as well as the students. Since the professors were youngish and I thought that my professor may have shown up to provide moral support to a new teacher, it was a great surprise to me when I thought, 'Finally the professor has shown up,' and then he wrote out his name . . . and it was the name of the department head! It turns out that the first part of the lesson was allotted to an introductory event of the Greek faculty.

By this point I was incredibly grumpy, since I hate introductory events, cheerleading for upcoming university courses or semesters, and particularly being forcibly friendly and 'cool' with fellow students — when I think that the ideal relationship with a fellow student is to barely exchange a word during the entire year and then be happy to meet each other again by surprise. Besides I want to focus on the darned academic matter.

Anyway, the professors were introduced, we students were each supposed to say what our minor's programmes were, I refused to make eye contact and therefore got away with not answering; and then I had no chance to wriggle out of it when the department head asked us each to give a little background on ourselves, specifically why we were studying Greek (which is admittedly a reasonable question, but one whose answer is mostly boring for fellow students except if the answer is that one wishes to join a cult whose text is the untranslated New Testament). Besides I have to finish my essay and have no time for distractions!!! The structure of the bachelor's programme was elucidated, and then the professor contingent and the prelanguage course students left; and the actual class began after a short interval in which I read one of the most rebellious sections of the Autobiography of Malcolm X with a great deal of sympathy although my grievances were much more trivial.

As in a different course this morning and on Tuesday, because there are students in the incoming year who have actually gone to Greek schools and speak it amongst each other — whereas my classmates from last year wouldn't dream of it and like me exert themselves considerably to proffer two or three credible sentences at a time — some of the class was conducted in Greek!

As a person who sat in many a class where I inconveniently knew a little too much, like a German class in Canada and an English class in Germany, I did my best not to inconvenience my classmates or demand anything. I was bored and it didn't improve my working habits, but I dealt with it because otherwise I could have just knuckled down and learned extra grammar or whatever so that I could be put in a more difficult class. Besides I thought that some things would be new and in fact they were; and I don't think everything always goes the way one would like it and that it's useful to learn to handle that.

Such masochism should be widespread!

Anyway, as Mama also pointed out, the language immersion should be helpful. But it drives me mad that I, after only one year of language instruction, am being asked to keep up the same level as someone who has lived in Greece!!!

On Tuesday my saintlier reaction to this state of affairs was to begin listening to a Greek news video on a semi-daily basis again — not because I understand more than half of it but because it helps to have the language in one's ear. But today, muchly enraged, I surmised that I could passive-aggressively counterbalance the situation by coming in for extra help during my professor's office hour until the gaps of knowledge are closed and by taking up her time thusly practice a form of civil disobedience which neither Martin Luther King, Henry David Thoreau, nor Mahatma Gandhi would likely recognize. Ge. and J. were not much impressed by this unsaintly notion, either, so I am just going to enjoy the idea of it.