In a cyclone… on Halloween night, we dressed Otis in his first costume of Pilgrim Indian and took him out to play on neighbor’s lawn. The next day, I was off to Prague on my first trans-Atlantic flight for a work meeting. I landed in the Czech Republic, walked the city for three hours, then started our work meetings which involved volunteers from all over Europe to write for us. I instructed and facilitated one of the break-out groups. All-day meetings were interrupted only for group lunches then followed by group dinners and receptions – a few nights out with co-workers then back on the plane to Philly. All the while, a new president was elected.

Then things really sped up. Fly home, dinner out, back to work, then back to school for a mid-term exam, then back to work then off to Jersey for my best friend’s bridal shower. Lots o fun. Sunday, spent all day reconnecting with family. By Wednesday – maybe – I finally caught up on all sleep necessary.

I definitely live in the fast lane – nothing is going to change that. What’s amazing is the other young mothers, artists and professionals, who I met across the pond who are doing the same things as I do.

But then my senses came to me again. Journalists operate under the premise that everyone is good, which is why they report on the bad things people do. I tell Nikolaev that we would have to change the fundamental teachings in journalism 101 to change the practice. I make this point and/or related comments in every graduate class I’ve participated in (except Photography), and it never feels redundant or obvious to my classmates.

To further intensify classroom discussion, Elise, the Albanian who sits behind me – one of the three people who actually speak during our “seminar” class, said that American media does not reflect who she is. Of course not, Elise, you’re from Albania, I think. And then I dust off my soapbox. The media and TV programming do not represent who I am either. TV is used to keep the majority of society dumbed down. I can’t say I can really blame the capitalist swine who exploit our laziness and stupidity and deliver such mind-rotting junk, but somehow it is demanded so it is there. Nikolaev tells us both that we are in minority and I’m really shocked to hear that because I thought everyone thought the same way I think!

At least class was a little more lively. We even heard from a girl sitting in the sleepy back of the classroom. She blurted out an answer at some point in the night. Well done. Only four more classes to go. During one, we will take our mid-term exam and during the last class, we will present our papers. I can see the light.

Each week, I come to class with some points for discussion and only get the same lecture. One week, I even show up with a couple of international news articles, which is assigned, and still can’t engage this class of lazy lazy girls. Two of ‘em sat in the back and texted during the entire class. Another couple of girls sit there and bang on their laptops and I’m sure they are not typing class notes. Very few people add to classroom discussion so there is none. Oh, wait. The only man in the class, who’s probably pushing 40, does all the talking with Nikolaev. And the man is Russian too so the two of them converse and still nobody can understand a blessed thing. By 8 p.m. each class, I am beside myself with boredom and I figit. I cannot just sit there in silence for three hours and listen to someone lecture in broken English. At this point, I take my second trip to the bathroom, check my messages on my cell phone, and when I return, I start writing my resume on a scrap paper and day dream.

You see how bad this sucks? I’m trying to be a dutiful student. I’m trying to participate, but it is very difficult to participate when the professor does not engage you. So, I’ll tell you with delight how I missed my last class period without a lick of guilt. I had to skip it to cover a school district meeting for the newspaper. I just couldn’t miss too many consecutive monthly meetings for this class. I mean, I am dedicated to learning and to writing for the newspaper, but something’s got to give sometimes. And where I missed class this month, I will miss my meeting next month. I was going to really behave myself and write my reaction paper anyway and deliver it to the professor on my way to the school board meeting. But the professors school mailbox wasn’t really on the way to my meeting, and the assigned chapters really pissed me off with their redundancies. I refused to finish the reading and to write the assignment.

And now, after a couple weeks, I think I am refreshed and ready to return to class. I will read the last two chapters of this boring, overwritten text and do my assignment. I will bring in international news items so that the professor and the other guy aren’t the only two to talk all night. I will also bring side work to get me through the class time and that’s pretty pitiful because I paid close to $3000 for this class and I’m not getting my money’s worth. I can’t wait to teach so that I can really help students improve their skills and abilities to communicate effectively.

Then, I had to overcome my usual gripe about research material that is full of never-ending sentences and that overuses complex words and phrases. You know the ones that go on for about seven lines, that if you had 10 years to dissect and rewrite into simpler format would finally make sense. I spent at least a half hour on one complex sentence before I truly understood, and then I decided to skim-read the rest of the paper, and it still took me three nights to complete.

Oh hail ye concise and fact-driven newspaper journalism that I commit myself to completely. Oh hail ye short-form Internet writing of the present day and future. As for long-winded, over-worded research papers? I hope they go the way of the 8-track. Of course, I’ll be out of school by then!

I registered to study international communication this semester. There’s about 20 students in the class, some who were born and raised in foreign countries. I recognize nobody from past classes. Although it is a seminar, we do not go around the room and introduce ourselves. I always like doing that because it gives me a chance to size up my classmates. Drexel is not that competitive, but I am. Usually, I’m the oldest in class and one of the few with a spouse and child and a full-time job outside of Drexel University - a stand-out from demographics alone. This time, I’m one of the oldest, but am among at least a dozen professionals, even though they’re all dressed like youthful, trendy college co-eds. I may take a fashion tip or two from them.

The class is being held in a building that is new to me on 33rd and Arch Streets. I like it despite the view of exhaust pipes out of our window. I’m looking forward to the class content because I write a newsletter for a global audience in my professional life. Nikolaev promises heated discussions about religion, politics and gender. He says to those easily offended to drop the class. He asks that we talk about our opinions with intelligence. He says that the readings will be fun and infuriating – one of the texts is: Why do People Hate America? This class couldn’t have happened at a juicier time in American history since I’ve been a student of higher education. I’m totally psyched.

Nikolaev dismisses us in a half hour. I wonder campus in the light rain.