I arrived at class early yesterday (which is unusual because I am typically running kids around right before) and had a chance to talk to a few of the kids undergraduate students before the professor arrived. I was seeking clarification on when a paper was due, when a young man tilted his head quizzically and said, “You’re not a TA?” No. Indeed, I am not. I am merely the unofficial wrangler of a professor with an outrageous accent, you silly English k-nigt.
Seriously, apart from the fact that I am Older, I can’t think why he thought I was a TA (and there are a few Older students in class with me.) My first thought was that if I were a TA, I would have been more help to the students. Isn’t that what TAs do?
Also, walking out of class yesterday, someone with a sense of humor was playing “Get along little dogies” on the Tower chimes.
Grad school is a weird place.
A real TA for my research class told me that I should be a doctoral student, which I have been waiting to hear from an impartial observer. It was pretty cool to finally hear it, but I’m still unsure. I’m encouraged that he based his recommendation on listening to forty minutes of me jumping from topic to topic in a confusion of ideas that I would think would discourage anyone from imagining I had the focus to do productive research. If my confusion inspired the observation, then I have some hope. I changed my proposal topic, though, to something more Manageable and less Exciting, so I guess we’ll see if that alters his high opinion.
Also, this week is amnesty week for returning borrowed books. I am ransacking the house, people. Mail me if you think I have something of yours, and I will endeavor to return it while it would be bad form for you to curse me for my (belated) pains.