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Feb. 26th, 2009 03:11 pmBuggar. I shouldn't even be annoyed, I knew it was sub-standard at best.
To explain: I got my essay back, and it's not a very good mark at all. I was told that he 'knew I could do better' particularly when I protested that I'd been studying this period of history for all of ten days by the deadline, and that he wasn't worried, etc, etc. We had a chat about my home - he got very excited when he realised that I was a Proper Northerner, and lamented that there weren't more of us, or mature students. I hope he realised that I'm not a mature student... he seemd fascinated that I was proper working class, which was a wee bit weird but a reaction I've seen before. People are always surprised when neither of your parents went to university. It was a very weird experience, explaining my academic career ("I hated school, but luckily I loved college and turned out not to be mediocre") and my hometown in between talking about Joseph Chamberlain. I do like this one-on-one teaching thing, in small doses, but... eh. I feel like I'm on the edge of a cold, with a sore throat, sore muscles and badly aching head, which probably didn't help. Also if I talk about Ormskirk by accent goes mad and I'm not going to be able to shift it for about six hours now. There's nothing wrong with a Northern accent, and I won't give up my vowels and bits of dialect for anyone, but now I sound like I just got out of the car in first-year, and I could do without feeling like a first-year.
Anyway. I have to go and see him again in forty minutes to get the debate we're doing on Tuesday sorted. Wahey. I still haven't finished most of my reading for it, but by 8pm tonight I will have done the lot, including writing up Clever Points To Say To The Other Team and all the reading I have any intention of doing. This means that I have a fairly straight run through to my 10am exam on Wednesday. By 'straight run' I mean at least one social event and three shifts at work. Well, revision can't take that long, surely? *wibbles*
In other, much more exciting news, the Masterchef final is on tonight! Masterchef hads quietly dominated the house more than even Hollyoaks and Doctor Who, over the last two years. We even had a Masterchef week last year, in which we all cooked to varying degrees of success. (I dropped the pasta all over Sarah and learned that making a cheesecake with rich tea is a Bad Idea, for example.) The Guardian understands our glee about Masterchef and it's sort of awfulness that you can't turn away from, and has produced Bingo cards. So guess what Katie and I are doing tonight?
First, though: 1848 and Why It Looked Like Britain Should Have Had A Revolution (Neatly Forgetting That It Didn't).
To explain: I got my essay back, and it's not a very good mark at all. I was told that he 'knew I could do better' particularly when I protested that I'd been studying this period of history for all of ten days by the deadline, and that he wasn't worried, etc, etc. We had a chat about my home - he got very excited when he realised that I was a Proper Northerner, and lamented that there weren't more of us, or mature students. I hope he realised that I'm not a mature student... he seemd fascinated that I was proper working class, which was a wee bit weird but a reaction I've seen before. People are always surprised when neither of your parents went to university. It was a very weird experience, explaining my academic career ("I hated school, but luckily I loved college and turned out not to be mediocre") and my hometown in between talking about Joseph Chamberlain. I do like this one-on-one teaching thing, in small doses, but... eh. I feel like I'm on the edge of a cold, with a sore throat, sore muscles and badly aching head, which probably didn't help. Also if I talk about Ormskirk by accent goes mad and I'm not going to be able to shift it for about six hours now. There's nothing wrong with a Northern accent, and I won't give up my vowels and bits of dialect for anyone, but now I sound like I just got out of the car in first-year, and I could do without feeling like a first-year.
Anyway. I have to go and see him again in forty minutes to get the debate we're doing on Tuesday sorted. Wahey. I still haven't finished most of my reading for it, but by 8pm tonight I will have done the lot, including writing up Clever Points To Say To The Other Team and all the reading I have any intention of doing. This means that I have a fairly straight run through to my 10am exam on Wednesday. By 'straight run' I mean at least one social event and three shifts at work. Well, revision can't take that long, surely? *wibbles*
In other, much more exciting news, the Masterchef final is on tonight! Masterchef hads quietly dominated the house more than even Hollyoaks and Doctor Who, over the last two years. We even had a Masterchef week last year, in which we all cooked to varying degrees of success. (I dropped the pasta all over Sarah and learned that making a cheesecake with rich tea is a Bad Idea, for example.) The Guardian understands our glee about Masterchef and it's sort of awfulness that you can't turn away from, and has produced Bingo cards. So guess what Katie and I are doing tonight?
First, though: 1848 and Why It Looked Like Britain Should Have Had A Revolution (Neatly Forgetting That It Didn't).
