College days were all about multi tasking.Trying to cram enough knowledge into my head and trying to make a number of different ends meet in the middle.It was a lot more serious than trying to walk and chew gum at the same time,which I could never do without walking into a telephone pole.
At school my desk usually had at least two,and often more textbooks open at the same time.I always had the required textbook for the course,plus another title to use as a cross reference,and a coil notebook for the taking of notes.Sometimes there would be a different text book,or notebook as well,if I were trying to study for an exam later in the day,or attempting to prepare for a class I was not quite prepared for as well as trying to take notes in the present.I usually had a small notepad in which to write down questions and answers from class discussions as well,as I'm well known for making a ton of notes on just about everything going on about me.And the writing implements.Pencils,pens and markers.Usually at least two colours of markers,one to highlight text,the other references.And two colors of pens for the various notes I was writing in the margins.Not only did I have ten things running through my mind,but I didn't have enough hands for all the writing implements.
Then the bus ride home,trying to catch up on school work.Can't waste a thirty minute bus ride.Thats another thirty minutes sleep.And of course there was work.Driving a taxi at night,which I really didn't want to do any more,hence the school.But I could bring along books from school and study them in the downtime between fares.No one cared if I drove around the clock either and I sometimes did,because money was tight.A time or two I pulled into the park and fell asleep with a psychology textbook open on the seat,until I was jarred awake by an urgent sounding dispatcher.
I also volunteered.It would be a help to my career after college.So twice a week I went to the hospital to work with disabled children.I taught adult literacy as well,on the week end,and worked as a host,helping immigrants integrate into society.And of course there was always the need to do all of the routine things like shopping for food and clothes,and cleaning the house.And there was a young lady named Melanie who vied for some of the time I didn't seem to have.That never did work out.
Two whole years running around like a headless chicken is what it seemed like.
At school my desk usually had at least two,and often more textbooks open at the same time.I always had the required textbook for the course,plus another title to use as a cross reference,and a coil notebook for the taking of notes.Sometimes there would be a different text book,or notebook as well,if I were trying to study for an exam later in the day,or attempting to prepare for a class I was not quite prepared for as well as trying to take notes in the present.I usually had a small notepad in which to write down questions and answers from class discussions as well,as I'm well known for making a ton of notes on just about everything going on about me.And the writing implements.Pencils,pens and markers.Usually at least two colours of markers,one to highlight text,the other references.And two colors of pens for the various notes I was writing in the margins.Not only did I have ten things running through my mind,but I didn't have enough hands for all the writing implements.
Then the bus ride home,trying to catch up on school work.Can't waste a thirty minute bus ride.Thats another thirty minutes sleep.And of course there was work.Driving a taxi at night,which I really didn't want to do any more,hence the school.But I could bring along books from school and study them in the downtime between fares.No one cared if I drove around the clock either and I sometimes did,because money was tight.A time or two I pulled into the park and fell asleep with a psychology textbook open on the seat,until I was jarred awake by an urgent sounding dispatcher.
I also volunteered.It would be a help to my career after college.So twice a week I went to the hospital to work with disabled children.I taught adult literacy as well,on the week end,and worked as a host,helping immigrants integrate into society.And of course there was always the need to do all of the routine things like shopping for food and clothes,and cleaning the house.And there was a young lady named Melanie who vied for some of the time I didn't seem to have.That never did work out.
Two whole years running around like a headless chicken is what it seemed like.
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