Minutes for the Week: Ode to Disillusionment
The close by week has been somewhat jadedé with regards both to my classes and my non-specific attitude toward Carleton.
French has been frenetic with two oral presentations, an exam, a longish attempt, and the six or seven regular daily assignments. The workload has been okay, actually, it's just that my prof (the ridiculously breathtaking one) has been a tad scatterbrained. In the first three of weeks she was M.I.A. once for illness, and then she was gone two other times for conferences. Other profs filled in, but with but coordination. No one, for instance, even mentioned a investigation or a paper in class, which would be pointed if our moodle site actually had communication on either of them. Mais non. Conclusion: ambivalent.
I be proper slightly more disillusioned with Arnab's professorial dash with each class time. Let's have a play-by-play of this week, shall we? We've been reading Rabindranath Tagore's The Where it hurts and the World. On Monday, we opened lineage by making a long list of binary oppositions at misbehave in the novel. Arnie then proceeded to reprimand for the rest of the period on the place of women in Indian camaraderie in the context of emerging nationalism. We ran out of previously without having really touched the novel, and he essentially told us that on Wednesday we would talk in all directions how this lecture applies to the log. What a horrid way to approach creative writings: it allows for little intellectual survey. But this is how he guides discussion, more on the whole, as well. He structures our conversations so rigidly, as if fundamentally to prove whatever "suggestion" he has made or force propose. Today's class (mercifully held face) offers an example of Arnie's other wrong flaw as a professor. People drive make observations for about five minutes, and then he'll cut out and "synthesize" what people make said. The problem is, however, that his is less of a coalescence of what people have said and more of a streak-forward to some grand, with no holds barred totalizing and glib reading. But my...
