I’m watching the red tilted plastic clock that’s been haphazardly placed on the whiteboard tray, the minutes tick by at an excruciatingly slow pace. This feels, strangely familiar. At the end of our orientation week, an event that involved the highs of meeting new friends and the lows of what I consider academic bullying, we were given a writing test. Three questions, worded in such a way that you spent most of the time decoding the grammar, two hours, and a 600 word essay to read. All to determine what sort of “academic support” we would need throughout the year. I wonder if they’ll give us color coded stickers that indicate our academic ability like in grade school. I was done thirty minutes into it. This is probably not a good thing. But it was convient, as that’s when my hand began cramping up from having not handwritten anything substantial in the past few years. It felt like a dirty trick. I felt defeated. I didn’t trust our course director after having us schlep around Dublin for nearly ten miles the previous day on a evil scavenger hunt that would not end. And then having the audacity to quiz  us on trivial things the next day. It’s been an interesting first week. Continue reading →