Dear Secret Blogiary,
Many years ago when I was in college, I was required to take a “senior seminar” class in order to graduate. Beyond any hope, I found myself taking, with my BFF Lindsey, the senior seminar to top all senior seminars: Science Fiction and Fantasy in Literature.
Thrilled to be taking such a cool sounding class, I pushed down feelings of uncertainty about the professor. I had taken classes with Dr. – before and I was never fully impressed. Oh, she knew her material, but I always felt like she threw things at us on the cuff, never really planning out anything. And while as a teacher I can say some of my best teaching days were those when I taught on the fly, I can also say, I do much better when I have a plan and modify it as I go if needed.
I might not have liked her classes, but there was no way I was going to pass up the chance for a senior seminar class that actually focused on my favorite form of literature.
Enter the stack of books for this class:
Fast forward nearly ten years and Carl Freedman is still sitting on my bookcase. Proudly displayed among my other college library: Shakespeare, Chaucer and Milton, thick English Lit books, thin religious tomes, Pamela and Wuthering Heights, etc. I’ve not given these books a second glance since putting them one the shelf and swiping them with an occasional dusting cloth.