The Professor's Office

Beginning this summer, Learner is teaching/research assistant for a very popular professor here on campus. Basic responsibilities include grading one-page reflection papers in which people interact with assigned books read, as well as longer 10-15 page papers that are actually apologetic letters students are assigned to write to a non-believer they know.

But on top of these duties (and other more academic ones to come), most of Learner's work for the professor this summer has been a major office organization overhaul Learner has dubbed "The Genesis 1:2a Project" ("The earth was without form and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep...").

Five full trash bags and twenty hours later, Learner has yet to really make much of a dent in the deep. Sitting facing the desk, here's what you would see:

Table to the right: three file holders with a collection of files in them. The furthest one to the right holds files on literary figures, the middle one holds small random folders, and the one to the left holds other various folders. These will all get assimilated into the filing cabinets, but Learner had to do something with them until then.

Continuing to the left of the three file holders, there are two stacks and a box. These are what the professor needs to go through and decide what he wants to keep and what Learner can pitch. Whatever he doesn't throw away, Learner must find a place for it. The remaining things on the far end of the table are just waiting to find a file home.

Across the desk, you would notice that both it and the two tables on the rug are clear of files. This was Learner's progress yesterday. On the righthand corner of your desk is a package on top and underneath are some bags of books the professor wanted bibliographed. On the left hand corner of the desk, there are four different pages that were most current and Learner wondered if the prof needed them.

As you continue to look to your left, you would notice that Learner cleaned out the shelf above. There are only two files there now (there were dozens before): the first is a Faculty folder the professor used to take to such meetings; the red folder is a file on higher education training and development. Learner thought the two tied together, so he put them there for now.

In the closet behind you, you would notice some stacks, but they are quite condensed from what they were. These are the professor's edited class files, put here to get them out of the way before Learner places them (either as is or even further segregated) into the archival filing cabinets across the room. They're grouped by class/like topic right now (and some stacks are bigger than others - apologetics files, for instance), and Learner is planning to group them as such in the cabinets or break them down further to lighten their loads.

Learner's plan was to have the professor go through what he did/didn't want of the two stacks and the box, and then hit the archive filing cabinets (three in all, including three rows of full shelves above). He was planning to get the cabinets consolidated and then rearrange the books (7 bookcases' worth) according to what the prof wanted. This all seemed

However, the good-natured professor sprung a surprise on Learner this afternoon, showing him the attached bathroom on the side of his office where, to the professor's visibly embarrassed chagrin, a box of papers sits behind the door and a bathtub/shower literally filled with boxes of files as well. This, Learner says, will easily add another 15 hours to the project, not even counting the work aforementioned (which will easily be twenty hours or more).

Learner's application: If becoming a professor, learn to love organizing as much as teaching. Or, just get an idealistic, sucker-of-an-assistant who is more than willing to do it for you.

Oy Vey

Learner has his first Hebrew exam (dubbed "a major quiz" by his prof) this Thursday. This "major quiz" will take 45 minutes to an hour.

Currently he's trying to memorize the vocab card for "Oh, crap."

One Year Ago This Week

One year ago this week, I, Tychicus, began chronicling the life and times of Learner for all to read. It's been quite an experiment, one that I have relished despite Learner's perpetual rolling of his eyes at my enthusiasm for his seminary plight. Deep down, I think he likes having his thoughts (random and otherwise) out there for others to read, but he would probably never do something like this himself.

At least if he has, I don't know about it.

In thinking through this past year, the temptation is to look back and reflect, but Learner has asked that I not do that as, he says, "Nostalgia is a form of mental illness." As Mrs. Learner has accused him of being so reminisciently sick at various times since movng back to the Midwest, Learner suggested we consider the future and leave the past (at least for now) behind.

However, in considering topics for such posts, neither one of us had much of an idea as to what we should include. So, I turn to you, dear reader (if indeed you are there and dear), and ask you for your opinion. Is there any particular question or direction you would offer as to how to proceed from here? Any thought as to where to go? Anything you are just dying to know?

As it's been a year, I've finally turned the comments on and would encourage you to make your voice heard, even if it's the silliest or most serious of postings. And, if there are no postings to be shared, perhaps I'll take that as a sign that my work here is done.

Our fate is in your fingers, dear reader. Speak and we shall listen...

Malcontent with Bible Content

Learner got his Bible Content exam back tonight: a 99. That's three points better than his score last year, but still six points shy of what he needs to test out of the class (a 105). His next chance is in July; if he fails that one, there's one in August, but if he doesn't pass that one, it's "hello" to an extra (and involved) three-hour class all this fall.

While it was a different version from the initial test taken (and harder, Learner thought), he's having a hard time equating the last year of his life spent studying with only a three-point improvement. Granted, a majority of the questions missed were (presumably) random and trivial (if things in the Bible can be called "trivial") bits of information, but still...only three points?

Of course, as alluded to in the previous post, the question becomes whether or not to study in some kind of earnestness the 80-page Bible overview document Learner procured last year from the Renaissance Man. As the test in July will be yet another version, it's not like Learner can accurately guess at the content and what he perhaps missed to get right next time. And yet how realistic is it to put in the necessary time to study and remember a majority of dates and places sprinkled throughout the entire Bible?

Perhaps a solution would be to not worry about the test and just take the class. After all, he reasons, the point of seminary is to learn the Bible and not just test out of a class concerning its content.

Hmm. Maybe he's learning something here after all...

Spring Grades and Such

Still no word on the results of the Bible Content exam, but Learner wasn't too worried about that last night as he was taking his first of three Hebrew quizzes - in the first fifteen minutes of class!

Thankfully (though slowly), he did well and remembered 95% of what he had crammed into his head as it relates to Hebrew consonants, vowels, and syllabification. He thinks he may have more of an initial crush on Hebrew than he did Greek last summer, but pulling his vocab cards out this morning, he says it's hardly love.

In other academic news, Learner got his spring grades back:

Apologetics & Outreach: A
Covenant Theology: A
God & Humanity: A-
Elementary Homiletics: B+
Gospels: B

All seemed according to what he thought he'd earned, but he was disappointed (though not at all surprised) by his homiletics score. Unfortunately, while he prepared and gave good messages, he didn't jump through enough "hoops of structure" pushed in the course, and probably got what he deserved (though not what he agreed with).

Like that's never happened before, he says...

Bible Content Exam in 30 Minutes

Learner is preparing to take (for a second time) the seminary's official Bible Content Exam, a comprehensive test aimed at evaluating a student's knowledge of the Bible. All incoming students are required to take the exam, and each has two chances to pass it instead of having to take the class for an entire semester.

As Learner missed passing the thing by nine lousy points last year, he gets to take it again and will do so in about half an hour, along with all the new incoming students this summer. Apart from all his study of the past year, he's not really put much else into it, so he may end up getting what he deserves. Hopefully, he says, a year's worth of seminary education will make nine points worth of difference.

If not, he says he's going to feel really stupid.

Hebrew Tonight

Summer semester finally begins this evening, as Learner is set to begin Hebrew. Thanks to a cram course with Albert last night and a little review this morning, he knows (or at least can recognize) the twenty-two letters of the Hebrew alphabet (writing them is a different story). He's got his grammar book and the professor's exercise packet from the bookstore (as well as his flashcards) and is desperately trying to train his mind to read right to left.

Now all he needs is a yamika.

Overheard

Overheard at yesterday's seminary summer kick-off picnic:

Rob (standing over grill, cooking brats): "That's one hot fire."

Learner (standing near Rob, helping cook brats): "Yeah, I've always thought burning to death would be one of the most painful ways to go."

Rob: "Actually, they say that after the first minute, all your nerve endings are singed, so you don't feel anything."

Learner: "Who's 'they?'"

Rob: "I don't know."

Learner: "That first minute would be pretty long and painful."

Rob: "Yep."

Somehow neither of these two seem ready for martyrdom.

Mover for Hire (Minus the "Hire" Part)

'Tis the season for people moving - in and out. Learner and I just returned from helping yet another family move into their student apartment here on campus (after helping three different apartment neighbors move out last week). Fortunately, things ran smoothly and the whole process of unloading only took an hour and involved no stairs (always a good thing).

Learner remarked to me while we were "schlepping" (his word for "suffering while carrying something large") a couch how interesting the whole moving phenomenon is. Referencing his own move-in last summer, Learner said that if he somehow had power over society to exercise some kind of worldwide cultural change, he would make it so that if/when people move, they leave all their basic stuff (big furniture, etc.) and just make do with the stuff left by someone else where they are moving to.

This, Learner said, would solve a lot of moving hassles (not to mention put the moving industry - rental trucks, storage units, etc., which Learner thinks is nothing but a price-gouge and should be criminally prosecuted - out of business). Of course, there would be other complications that would arise from this new model of migration, as people moving would not just be looking for a particular house or apartment, but also considering what is left in it. I laughed at him and his thinking, but in a way he makes sense (granted, perhaps in a parallel universe, which is where he usually is most of the time anyway).

Other observations Learner made this morning: people are insecure about having other people view and handle their things, especially if they have just met those helping them move; people moving always think (and say repeatedly) that they have way too much stuff, but no one has any real plans to do anything about it after it's stuffed into their new living space; the five or six seminary students who show up with a smile on their faces are really not THAT excited to spend an hour or three schlepping boxes (these looks are the same ones reserved for when they meet with a professor for their end-of-semester oral exam); jokes and other attempts at humor during the moving process tend to be barely a step above your average 10-year-old's and should be left to the professionals (i.e. late-night comedians and politicians).

Learner's top ten rules for helping seminary students move are:

1) Always let the husband handle the boxes marked "fragile".

2) Never comment on how you think the move is going, particularly in relation to a previous moving experience (the people who are moving will feel insecure if they feel they're being compared to another move).

3) Don't shy away from the big stuff - somebody's got to get it and it might as well be you.

4) Don't shy away from the little stuff - same reason.

5) Do your best to honor whatever markings are on the boxes as to where they go (just throwing stuff in the first room you come to eventually blocks the path and doesn't serve the new residents well when they go to unload).

6) Let the seminary student who is moving in believe he really has an outrageous number of books (even though he doesn't).

7) Drink plenty of fluids.

8) Don't get bent out of shape that you have to spend time doing this (ask yourself HWJM?: "How Would Jesus Move?").

9) While the principle is right, disregard the rationale behind #8 - it's stupid.

10) Never forget that, at least at seminary, you once had to move in and you will have to one day move out - be the kind of mover you want to help you when the time comes: quick, quiet, and quip-resistant.

More moves to come this summer. As always, I'll keep you posted.