Seminar #2

I had my second seminar today, from 5 to 7 p.m. Don't really know how I felt about it. The teacher was, physically, just like Bilbo Baggins, so I think from now on I'll refer to him here as Mr. Baggins. He seems incredibly well-spoken and lively, so the class is certainly not dull. On the other hand, there were some tense moments.

For instance, at one point he asked us to give a Marxist definition of class, and when our answers weren't to his satisfaction, he was downright incredulous. All he could do was sputter "They don't teach you much, do they? This is basic stuff!" He has that cutting, brutal way of speaking that only an aged British professor can fully possess, too. What are we supposed to do about the fact that American high schools spend so much time on the SATs that they neglect to make us read the most fundamental texts sometimes?

At another point, he asked why the English population was changing the way it was in 1650, and someone answered "plague." He rolled his eyes and said "It's always the damn plague with Americans. So sensationalized. Don't they tell you about anything other than plague?" It was maddening, and I for one felt quite helpless; I WANTED to give him the right answer, but couldn't. I'm one of those people who's desperate to answer questions in class correctly, I'm afraid. I always empathize so much with Hermione when I read Harry Potter!

Later in the class, he took out the packet he'd assigned us to read for today, and began to quote a passage. He mentioned the author and the page number he was referring to, but when he noticed that several of us hadn't yet found the correct page, he barked "Come on now, you've got to be quicker! Go to the section by Wilson. You should all know where Wilson is. Where is Wilson?" His voice got so intense and frightening that those of us who were still searching started ripping through the packet frantically. I was beet red by the time I found the Wilson passage.

He was also a little scolding when people asked him certain questions. I grant you, it was justified. People were asking questions that would've been answered for them in the syllabus. But still, it made people tentative. It's hard not to be intimidated when your teacher slams you down for asking a question on the first day of class, even if the question was a bit silly.

I think that as much as we're frustrated with him, he's frustrated with us. I can understand a professor who's accustomed to Oxford-caliber pupils being confounded at the idea of students not knowing basic facts about Marxism. We're more relaxed, but in his world education is deadly serious. Something tells me this is the first taste of what Oxford professors are REALLY like, and the young man who taught my other seminar was just being inordinately gentle with us!

Grumpy Mr. Baggins is the sort of teacher I'll probably be glad to have had in the long run, though. No doubt he'll give blunt criticism on any papers I produce for him, and I really appreciate the fact that he demands eloquence from his students. He was whip-quick to snap at someone for using vague, common words instead of more precise, lesser-known language.