8:00 am: Meet professor. Stats: New York Jewish MD geneticist with unending levels of male guilt turned Florida doctor plus Chumash shaman - bear dancer. Professor announces he easily gets off-topic and talks too much, so he will be working on that throughout the semester. Professor also announces he will be team-teaching the class. Professor proceeds to use 'we' on-and-off throughout the rest of the day.
8:04 am: Statement of goal of class (a.k.a. first quotable moment of the day) - “You won’t learn anything in this class. Instead the goal is that this will be a lived projected to change you and the world.”
8:04.30 am: Students dutifully note down this purpose and wonder what kinds of homework this will entail.
8:07 am: Second quotable moment of the day. Professor shows four texts, all written by him. Tells us, “These are the textbooks of the class. This first one? Um…. It would be good if some of you got this one. The others…. Well most of them are out of print, so….” Never mentions them again.
9:00 am: Count of professor’s use of “intent,” “destiny,” and “process” exceeds 20.
9:34 am: Begin film that Professor has shown to every class for the last 13 years. Watch professor shake his head at film. Watch tears drip off his jaw. Watch him chuckle during scene changes.
10:14 am: Go to “restroom” (a.k.a. pace back and forth in hallway). Return to film. Wonder if even a minute has passed.
10:21 am: Film ends. People cry. Reason undeterminable at this time. Perhaps because of sentimental movie music, film content, or lack of ensuing BREAK. One particular student we know begins to wonder whether a break will ever arrive.
11:00 am: Group circle sings “Everyone is an artist; everyone is a healer” as one by one each person comes to front of room and becomes anointed as an artist and healer by the co-teacher of our class, M____, who is with us spiritually, for physically she is living in Florida. Meanwhile, the physically present teacher lights sage and makes us clean in the circle. His hawk wing loudly pushes energy out all over the place. Physical teacher says, “You are an artist; you are a healer.” Person in center says back “I am an artist; I am a healer.” [Except one student the readers might know, who first tries to get out of it and then, when approached that she is a artist and a healer, says, “Um… thanks.”] Physically Present Professor’s index finger ploinks a dallop of on foreheads between the anointed artist-healers’ eyes. Watch people alternately get really emotional or tensely relax in order to look like expert healing circle participants. Then watch them one by one go cross-eyed trying to look between their eyes, silently wondering, is it dripping? How long will my forehead itch? How long before I can wipe off the water without doing something healing-circle-heretical?
12 noon: Group introductions. Threats of imminent lunch break.
12:15 pm: Rambling professor throws out another esoteric question. Student starts shaking. Professor continues. Student stands up and yells, “Ohmygod, are you EVER going to shut up?!!! I am low-blood sugar. We have been listening to you for HOURS! I am going to die! 40 minutes is too long to promise a lunch break. I have to eat! To eat! To EEEEEEEAAAAAAAT!” [Editorial note: Surprisingly this was NOT yours truly this time. I haven’t vocally physically freaked out by standing up, screaming, and falling to the floor in a class since I was getting my credential, thanks very much.] Professor blinks. “Well, by all means, go eat.” Student hurls self from room, dragging a cooler. Unsuccessfully attempts to slam door. Professor seems not to notice. Continues to babble. Another student is so appalled she starts scribbling mediocre poetry onto her laptop. She is still angry writing this.
12:33 pm: Lunch break por fin. Run out to the lawn. Sit with Crazy Class Yeller. Feel temporarily comparatively balanced.
12:34 pm: Intense morning sun replaced by usual low slung fog of the sunset. Shiver. Continue shivering indefinitely.
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