Sunday, February 14, 2016

Memory Monday

       Second Semester, Sophomore back in the dorms....third chance to get off scholastic probation! The first two years of college are mainly general, history, English, math, etc., to fulfill the required hours. One's chosen field of study may not be emphasized too much. I was in the school of education; I had been one of those kids who lined up her dolls and played school at a very young age. So, just as I knew growing up it was not IF you go to college, but WHEN you go...I knew I would be a teacher. I just didn't know what I wanted to teach.
      I loved to read and write; I loved all kinds of art. But, as I think I previously mentioned, I had never had an art class in my life. Growing up in a small town in rural Illinois, art was not high on the list of important subjects. If it had not been for my mom and one of my cousins who lived in the Chicago area, my path in life might have taken a different course. Because I loved art but knew nothing about it, I took every type of art I could squeeze in....drawing I, water color I, oils I, ceramics get the picture! And loving every minute of it!
This is Jesse Hall, sitting behind the Columns, (what remained of the first original building at U of Mo.) where I took many art classes. There was another building that housed art back then, but I couldn't find a picture of it.  Then there were the really boring education classes that I had to take in Hill Hall which housed the Department of Education. 
          I cut very few classes....I took great notes ( when I stayed awake).... I really loved learning and still do! I had a geology class that was really interesting....and an astronomy class that was great! I just didn't seem to be able to pass the dang tests! Being the immature coed that I soon as classes were over....and somebody said "party"!  I was one of the first ones out the door!
                           The Shack.....or...
                              The Tiger Club....or....
             The Stables. 
         Therefore...when the end of the semester came, my grades had not improved drastically.  My love for knowledge did not surpass my love for fun!  When my parents came to pick me up I had to break the news that the University had finale caught up with me and had requested I lay out for a semester. As I was whining about how hard the classes were; how tough the professors dad stopped me and gave me the best talk of my life! He wasn't angry...he was a party guy himself...but he wasn't about to let me get away with blaming the world for my mistakes. He calmly told me to "man up" ( not in those words), but he made me responsible for my own actions; and made me realize the world was not ending, that I still had opportunities but that it was time to start thinking more  realistically about my future.
         And my parents weren't about to let me sit around the house and mope for a year. They shopped around and discovered that only 35 miles away was Illinois College, a small Liberal Arts school that would take anyone even with my really bad grades!

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