It's been, um-m-m, interesting - to say the least.
Instead of that vaunted book learnin' I'd expected, there was a whole lot more - "Looky, looky, see what I wrote/what I did!" - from working Washington journalists, chosen to be instructors instead of "real teachers," as an equally irritated classmate continuously pointed out. You could cut the narcissism with a knife and I don't do narcissism - at all.
Now don't get it twisted, having an instructor who's actually done the job you'd like to do is certainly valuable, but knowing your job and knowing how to teach it are two, totally different animals IMHO. Silly me to expect a little of both.
Having my incessant questioning be met with either questions rather than answers or, no useful response at all didn't help matters any. As a result, I actually let it stress me the hell out, doing nothing else but trying to teach myself what I was paying them to teach me.
But, after all the transference and compartmentalization that I surely took me and mine through trying to get here, I got this email from my husband today and had one of those real, cleansing cries:
"Kelly Clarkson couldn't have put those words any clearer and with more meaning than My life would suck without you. I love that you are fiercely independent. I love that you love your family so that sometimes it hurts. I love that you take opportunities when they present themselves. I love that you keep on everyday fighting the fight through your blog. I love that you love just sitting around and watching TV or listening to music and having a drink or two. I love that you enjoy life as it is presented to you. I love that you have an intense desire to see your sons succeed. I love that you keep on with me and fight through the times. I love it when you laugh hardily. I love it when you cry hardily about those things you are passionate. I love your love of fellow human beings no matter their stature in life. I love you."
Okay, I didn't even know what Kelly Clarkson song he was talking about (more of a Fantasia fan myself - when I did watch American Idol!), so I went to YouTube to find it. If I'm honest, I'd have to say it's a fair representation of this 28-year and counting sojourn. So, to your Clarkson offering Mr. C., I say thanks - and I reply with #29 in the player to the right (probably why I'm a Fantasia fan).
I love that you know me so well.