Spring 2013, otherwise known as the semester without a show

This semester I studied human trafficking, advanced corrections, communities and crime, and psychological explanations of crime.

That’s a fancy way of saying three seminars and a first-year course.

Human trafficking was interesting because the whole class focused on misinformation and the lack of human trafficking and what that actually means. But mostly it focused on the prof’s dissertation.

My corrections class was unfortunate. Despite the interesting subject, the prof was such a newb. He’s the only prof I’ve ever had who’s given our papers back immediately before professor evaluations. Also, next person who says group project is getting punched in the face.

Communities and crime. In case you’re wondering what this class is about, so am I. The end.

My last class, a Psych-Crim hybrid, was fantastically easy. Bring on the PowerPoint notes! I wrote the paper in a day, the final in an hour, and then officially became a Crim major. And it only took four years!

Fall 2012 - Shit My Teachers Taught Me

During this semester, the TA (teachers assistants) union went on strike repeatedly, stopped reporting grades, and caused general confusion and frustration. I have no particular stance on unions except that not getting my midterm mark until finals may have resulted in Hulk-like behaviour. (If we wanted to see our marks, students could put in a special written request to a union who does not represent us who would then consider for six to eight weeks until giving us the marks we need to graduate. Maybe.)

My classes were Intro to Sociology, Quantitative Research Methods, Qualitative Research Methods, and Prostitution.
 
Yes, I said prostitution. Yes, everyone makes me repeat that.

 

Intro to Sociology

I am so glad Crim is not a sub-set of Sociology anymore.

Final project was to "be creative" on a posterboard. Because apparently posterboard is still an acceptable means of reporting knowledge.

Moving on...


Quantitative Research Methods in Criminology
My prof liked to point out fancy words (like "bivariate regression" and "kurtosis") that we could use in casual conversation with our parents so they'd feel like we're actually learning stuff. I've already forgotten what those words mean but I plan to keep using them.

My tutorial was named "Raspberry”—as opposed to "Tutorial #4"—because we were awesome and sleep-deprived like that. Someone gave the TA a bottle of raspberry Smirnoff during the last tutorial. Isn't university great!

At the final exam, my nerves were making me queasy. Or maybe it my hang-over. Either way, the prof stopped and asked if I was okay because he had a girl faint once and it was real pain for him.


Qualitative Research Methods in Criminology
Every time my Jamaican TA said "faculty" it sounded like "fuc-ulty." That is all I learnt in this class.

Oh, and transcription's a bitch.

I also wrote a 20 page research project that consumed my life for a month. I was so relieved to hand it in, until I got it back and it was full of red marks correcting my "misuse" of commas. Except there was no misuse. I know my commas. Tsk, tsk, TA Marker.  


Prostitution in Canada
Fighting to get into this class was so worth it. The prof is one of the few Canadian experts on the subject, plus he’s super old, British, and swears constantly. His favourite “argument” was how without prostitution men would explode! He would act it out. Classic.

I loved that the class had such a specific topic. I feel like I understand the whole issue now, not just as the textbook or the professor sees it. I also wrote a 15 page paper on what I think Canadian prostitution law should be that took every fiber of my student-being to write but that I’m actually quite proud of now. And it got an A!

The prof laid out all the marked papers just outside the exam room and when I picked mine up, I noticed that the one beside it had “prostitution” misspelled in the title. The prof had circled it and written “ouch...”

Did you know that if you are discussing selling/buying sex with someone in your home and the curtains are open to the street that that is illegal? But if you shut the curtains, it’s not?

Facts:

-          Prostitution is legal in Canada.

-          Prostitution law in Canada has no clear purpose and is horribly contradictory.

-          Prof’s second favourite “argument” was that women don’t buy prostitutes because they don’t want to pay for a lousy service. Heh.

 

And that’s what my teachers taught me!

(This is what happens when I save something as a draft and a year goes by before I see it again...)

My day started so well.

Statistics. Today's class wasn't so bad since the midterm is Thursday so all the prof did was review and remind us to stay calm. He's very soothing like that. He doesn't get gruff till the results are posted and everyone protests the marking scheme.

Then I walked outside and was greeted with this:

My bus drove for all of ninety seconds before pulling over. Driver walked out. I sat there. Driver walked in, said we ain't going no where till the salt truck goes down first, so I went to get some coffee. Sometimes I think they really didn't think it through when they built a school on a mountain.

My boot was feeling kinda funny, but it wasn't until after the bus made it down the mountain and the skytrain made it all the way back, that I realized why.

I went into Emergency Shopping Mode (that's the best mode, FYI) and bought a new pair of flats. Then I took my beloved over-the-knee boots that had gotten me through the winter and threw them in the trash. It was bittersweet.

In my next class, we spent two hours watching a movie about the '60s. I took notes about hippies, the Beatles and birth control pills. Why do I go to school again?

Shit My Teachers Taught Me: Spring 2012

Last semester I took Criminal Law, Sociological Explanations of Criminal Behavior, and Stats for Dummies. I mean Stats.

The man in the blue-green spandex was my Criminal Law professor.

And that was Spring 2012.

Shit My Teachers Taught Me: Fall 2011

This semester, I transferred to university. The campus is huge and confusing but they post helpful signs like this:

Groovy.

They also post WARNING signs, like when there are bears on campus. You might think that's terrifying, but don't worry, it's not like bears want to be on campus. Unless the campus is in their home. Unless the campus is smackdab in a forest on top of a mountain.

But think positively! No one has been mauled to death in their dorm by a bear in ages. Plus, my Psyc class taught me that optimistic people tend to live 7.6 years longer. So relax! No one's gonna die :)

See? Even the Timmies on campus (there's a Tim Hortons
 on campus!) draws lil smilies if it's not too busy :)

The first time I went to campus to scout out my classes, I got off the bus and trailed a group of students heading up the main stairs, hoping to figure out where I was and where to go. Turns out they weren't going to class--they were going to Tim Hortons. Best welcome-to-campus ever.

My major will be criminology, so my classes this semester were Canadian Law, Criminology, Research Methods in Criminology and Psyc. Crim is fascinating. It's also one of the few programs in which you probably shouldn't tell people much about it. Imagine meeting someone for coffee, getting to know them, saying, "That's so interesting! My speciality is prostitution!"

...

There's really no politically correct speciality in Crim. My Research Methods prof can talk for hours about drugs. Any drugs, all drugs. His 'favourite' is weed. If it's an illegal narcotic, he's there.

If I weren't planning on law school, my speciality would be sex offenders.

...And that's why I really need to go to law school. I have filled my quota, humming Christmas carols, writing about sex offenders. I wrote three papers this semester: one on adolescent sex offenders, one on treatment of adult sex offenders, and one called "Statistics: Misunderstood and Under-appreciated."

(What's more evil? Sex offenders or statistics?)

Also, you may not know this, but our Charter is the bomb. Spectacular. It should have it's own holiday. Maybe a mascot. The whole constitutional law plus common law thing we have going may be complicated, but man, we got it right. Charter win.

Did you know that there is almost zilch crime in back alleys? Unless they're right behind a nightclub or bar, the idea of the dark and dangerous alley is a myth. Everyone sees them as so scary that they avoid them, potential victims and offenders alike.

Shit My Teachers Taught Me: cut down that dark alley, it'll be fiiine.

The Matching Hypothesis, according to my Psyc textbook, states that you are most likely to commit to a partner who has the same level of physical attractiveness as you do.

Shit My Teachers Taught Me: if you want to marry Bradley Cooper, you're gonna need a treadmill first.

Administrative law is not as mindblowingly dull as it sounds. It includes human rights tribunals, so if you're discriminated against, you can do something about it, assuming it's listed in legislation.

Shit My Teachers Taught Me: being ugly is a legitimate (and legal) reason to fire somebody.

Isn't university great!

My Philosophy teacher liked to use the phrase "profoundly trivial." I found his class profoundly trivial.

This semestre, I had a lot of information zipping around in my head. Most of the time, I kept it to myself because no one really wants to know that Canada's first prison was built in Kingston, Ontario, but sometimes it slipped out.

Once at a birthday party, I got drunk and kept shouting "Taste aversion! Taste aversion!" (thanks Psych 1100!). That was also the night I convinced someone there's only six continents. 'Cause Europe doesn't count.

I now officially unofficially have an Associates degree in Creative Writing. That'll get me a job, right?

Shit My Teachers Taught Me

During my third semestre of post-secondary, I took Calculus.

Every time the Prof said, 'you'll remember this from Pre-Calc,' I got scared. I didn't take Pre-Calc. I took high school math. One time Prof said this and then proceeded to use long division on a polynomial. Long division! Mind blown!

I survived this class so I'm pretty much tickled pink. It wasn't easy. I had to mingle with science majors and attempt to laugh at Physics jokes like "What's the derivative of acceleration called?" "Jerk." "Don't call me a jerk!"

Riiight. Bazinga.

This is also the guy that said, "assume a cow is a sphere."

Here are some pictures to show my dedication to this class during the semestre:



Both y and x must be defined at the point in question.

If not, shit happens.

Awww...yeah. I stopped paying attention twenty minutes ago.
Fuck, I hate snow. And handwriting. And green.



This is a diagram. That is not a daisy.
That is a man with a top hat and a smoking pipe. 



Derivatives will come up in casual conversation some day and all will be worth it, right?

Currently Conscious

Last night, I had to stay up late reading about the importance of sleep in my Psych textbook. Thanks, Psych textbook, really.