Teach Me all That I Must Do...

I'm really glad that my mother taught me how to do the things she expected me to do. She has very high expectations, granted, but never without first showing me how to do the things she asked.

I saw a mother today with her son, who, I would guess, is going to be starting classes in the summer. She walks up with her son to the registration desk, and barks, "Well, tell them what you need!" He looks taken aback, and scared to be on campus already, and then he looks at her with fright and says, "I don't know what I need." Poor kid; I'd be scared too!

That's not even all of it.

The woman then pushes this poor kid out of the way while rolling her eyes and says, "We need one of those registration books." The two girls working behind the counter don't know what she's talking about, and so they both attempt to clarify for a little while before determining exactly what it is that she wants. They explain where to find it, and she drags her poor son off to some other part of the building.

I certainly hope that I'm never like that as a mother, not even on the really, really bad days. No wonder some of the freshmen look so scared...

In other news, I'm changing my major. After wrestling with physics for a few semesters, I've realized that the hands on experimental stuff I love, but the tests and homeworks: blech! Then I realized that I probably shouldn't be placed somewhere making people do the things that I don't like. History teaching is still a go, but so is a trip to the Counseling Office to see if there's anything else that's right up my alley. Major changing's in the air...