| Biographical Non-Fiction posted December 13, 2020 | Chapters: |
...83 84 -85- 86... 
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I decide to take some night classes.
A chapter in the book Remembering Yesterday
Night School
by BethShelby
| Background I decide to take some college courses in case I want to renew my teaching license. The twins sign up to work at Summer Camp. We take a dog on vacation. |
For new readers, who may not have read my author notes, this is written in a conversational way as I talk to my deceased husband. When I refer to someone just as "you" this means I am addressing my husband, Evan.
Right after I finished college, I took the exam and obtained a teaching license in case I might change my mind about wanting to teach. Since most of the schools had phased out their art classes, it occurred to me that if I decided to renew the license, I should get into another field rather than art. The subject I was most interested in was English, particularly Literature.
I’d gotten a notice that my teaching certificate was expiring, and that if I chose to renew it, I would need to take 10 hours of additional classes. Why not? I thought. I always liked school. It might be fun to go back and take some classes. I could do evening classes since my job didn’t require overtime, as some of my previous jobs had. UNO (University of New Orleans) had sent me a brochure listing their evening classes. I asked your opinion, and you told me I should do it if that is what I wanted to do.
The only two listed classes that interested me were Post WWII Novels and Creative Writing. I signed up for both, which meant I would be in school for two hours a week for each class. I was expecting to find other older students there, and a few had signed up, but after the first few nights, they all dropped out. Most of the students left were in their early twenties. The classes had eight to twelve students.
In the Post WWII Novels class, we were expected to buy and read six large books, which the professor had selected to reflect his own views of life. He admitted freely that he was an atheist, and he intended to teach existentialism from the standpoint of proving that life had no meaning other than an eternal cycle of pursuing a pointless existence from birth to the grave. I should have dropped that class, but I stuck with it. I’ve read better novels.
The creative writing class was far more interesting, but the professor in this class also had a negative view of God. He was the son of a Baptist minister, who gave up Christianity when he became deeply fascinated by the biography of the Indian leader, Mahatma Gandhi. When his father informed him that Gandhi couldn’t possibly enter Heaven in spite of his good deeds, because he had never embraced Christianity, our teacher decided if God couldn’t accept Gandhi, then he wanted no part of God. At least, this teacher didn’t dwell on his lack of belief. I thought his father had made a mistake by setting himself up as a judge and trying to speak for God.
In this class, we were required to write three stories and make copies for each student. Then each student was required to write a comprehensive critique of the story. The author of the story would have to sit, without uttering a word in their own defense, as the critiques were read aloud. It was an uncomfortable position to be in. One girl, on her night to be critiqued, wore a hood covering her head like she was anticipating a firing squad. Still, I was glad I took that class. I learned a lot.
All of this did become a lot more time-consuming than I had anticipated. I didn’t go any further with my continuing education. I never did renew the teaching certificate, but much later, I did take a college course in writing poetry.
This experience made me realize that many professors in state-supported colleges have philosophies that might shake the faith of a student still struggling to form their own world view. I was glad our children were attending a Christian college.
** *********
During Spring break, our college students came home. They had made it to Metairie and were on one of the streets leading to our house, when a little black dog ran out in front of the van, and Don wasn’t able to completely avoid him. The kids got out of the van and examined the still body of the dog. He seemed to be breathing, and there was no blood, but he was completely out. Not knowing what to do they picked up the little dog and brought him home. It was late at night and vet clinics were closed. We put the dog in a box and covered his body with a towel. We were afraid he would be dead by morning since his breathing seem very shaky.
When we got up the next morning, the dog had regained consciousness and was happily wagging his tail. We had planned to take a short camping trip to Pensacola Beach in Florida, but something had to be done with the dog. The kids took him back to the place where the accident occurred and tried to persuade him to go home. He kept trying to get back into the van. When they came back home, the dog was still with them. We decided to take him along. It was beginning to look as though we had acquired a dog.
We enjoyed our trip to the beach. The dog followed us like he had been with us forever. We were all getting attached to him and were trying to decide on a name. We’d only been home a day when he simply disappeared. We called and looked everywhere, but it was as if he’d never been with us. We assumed he'd had himself a nice vacation and was ready to go back home. He was a sweet dog, and we’d enjoyed his company while it lasted.
*********
In June, the semester ended for the kids and they returned home briefly. The brakes had gone out on the van in Birmingham, and they had driven miles with no brakes. Such stunts made us rethink letting them have a vehicle.
They all had plans for the summer. Don and Christi had signed up for work at a summer camp again. They had both been accepted to work at Blue Ridge in Virginia. Carol had planned to take a summer nursing assignment at the college in Texas where she had gone for her first two years. I had an idea she was hoping to see Tommy, her Korean friend, again. In September, when her third nursing semester would start, she would be sent to Florida to work in a large hospital there. All the nursing students at her school did a semester at Florida Hospital in Orlando.
When it came time for the twins to go to Camp Blue Ridge, they had to take a train from downtown New Orleans. I took them down to meet the train, but while they were waiting, they remembered that they had forgotten their sleeping bags. I thought I had enough time to run back home and get them, but half way home on the interstate highway, I had a flat tire. To make matters worse, it was starting to rain. I had Connie with me, and we were a long way from a place where I could use a phone to call for help. We had no choice, but to get out and start walking. I was upset about our situation, and it was making Connie nervous as well.
We hadn’t gotten far when a man pulled over and offered us a ride. I hesitated because I’d had a bad experience once back in college when excepting a ride from a stranger, but I decided maybe he just felt sorry for us. It didn’t feel safe walking on the side of busy highway in a thunderstorm. The man was nice and got us to a service station where I could get help to change the tire. Since the errand to get the sleeping bags was in vain, we sent them money to buy new ones. The cost of sending them by mail would have been almost as expensive and would have taken longer.
********
If things worked out, we hoped to be able to take Connie to Disney World in late August. We would be driving to Orlando to take Carol down for her semester at Florida Hospital. Connie had always wanted to go to Disney World. Don and Christi would probably be able to go as well.
Right after I finished college, I took the exam and obtained a teaching license in case I might change my mind about wanting to teach. Since most of the schools had phased out their art classes, it occurred to me that if I decided to renew the license, I should get into another field rather than art. The subject I was most interested in was English, particularly Literature.
I’d gotten a notice that my teaching certificate was expiring, and that if I chose to renew it, I would need to take 10 hours of additional classes. Why not? I thought. I always liked school. It might be fun to go back and take some classes. I could do evening classes since my job didn’t require overtime, as some of my previous jobs had. UNO (University of New Orleans) had sent me a brochure listing their evening classes. I asked your opinion, and you told me I should do it if that is what I wanted to do.
The only two listed classes that interested me were Post WWII Novels and Creative Writing. I signed up for both, which meant I would be in school for two hours a week for each class. I was expecting to find other older students there, and a few had signed up, but after the first few nights, they all dropped out. Most of the students left were in their early twenties. The classes had eight to twelve students.
In the Post WWII Novels class, we were expected to buy and read six large books, which the professor had selected to reflect his own views of life. He admitted freely that he was an atheist, and he intended to teach existentialism from the standpoint of proving that life had no meaning other than an eternal cycle of pursuing a pointless existence from birth to the grave. I should have dropped that class, but I stuck with it. I’ve read better novels.
The creative writing class was far more interesting, but the professor in this class also had a negative view of God. He was the son of a Baptist minister, who gave up Christianity when he became deeply fascinated by the biography of the Indian leader, Mahatma Gandhi. When his father informed him that Gandhi couldn’t possibly enter Heaven in spite of his good deeds, because he had never embraced Christianity, our teacher decided if God couldn’t accept Gandhi, then he wanted no part of God. At least, this teacher didn’t dwell on his lack of belief. I thought his father had made a mistake by setting himself up as a judge and trying to speak for God.
In this class, we were required to write three stories and make copies for each student. Then each student was required to write a comprehensive critique of the story. The author of the story would have to sit, without uttering a word in their own defense, as the critiques were read aloud. It was an uncomfortable position to be in. One girl, on her night to be critiqued, wore a hood covering her head like she was anticipating a firing squad. Still, I was glad I took that class. I learned a lot.
All of this did become a lot more time-consuming than I had anticipated. I didn’t go any further with my continuing education. I never did renew the teaching certificate, but much later, I did take a college course in writing poetry.
This experience made me realize that many professors in state-supported colleges have philosophies that might shake the faith of a student still struggling to form their own world view. I was glad our children were attending a Christian college.
** *********
During Spring break, our college students came home. They had made it to Metairie and were on one of the streets leading to our house, when a little black dog ran out in front of the van, and Don wasn’t able to completely avoid him. The kids got out of the van and examined the still body of the dog. He seemed to be breathing, and there was no blood, but he was completely out. Not knowing what to do they picked up the little dog and brought him home. It was late at night and vet clinics were closed. We put the dog in a box and covered his body with a towel. We were afraid he would be dead by morning since his breathing seem very shaky.
When we got up the next morning, the dog had regained consciousness and was happily wagging his tail. We had planned to take a short camping trip to Pensacola Beach in Florida, but something had to be done with the dog. The kids took him back to the place where the accident occurred and tried to persuade him to go home. He kept trying to get back into the van. When they came back home, the dog was still with them. We decided to take him along. It was beginning to look as though we had acquired a dog.
We enjoyed our trip to the beach. The dog followed us like he had been with us forever. We were all getting attached to him and were trying to decide on a name. We’d only been home a day when he simply disappeared. We called and looked everywhere, but it was as if he’d never been with us. We assumed he'd had himself a nice vacation and was ready to go back home. He was a sweet dog, and we’d enjoyed his company while it lasted.
*********
In June, the semester ended for the kids and they returned home briefly. The brakes had gone out on the van in Birmingham, and they had driven miles with no brakes. Such stunts made us rethink letting them have a vehicle.
They all had plans for the summer. Don and Christi had signed up for work at a summer camp again. They had both been accepted to work at Blue Ridge in Virginia. Carol had planned to take a summer nursing assignment at the college in Texas where she had gone for her first two years. I had an idea she was hoping to see Tommy, her Korean friend, again. In September, when her third nursing semester would start, she would be sent to Florida to work in a large hospital there. All the nursing students at her school did a semester at Florida Hospital in Orlando.
When it came time for the twins to go to Camp Blue Ridge, they had to take a train from downtown New Orleans. I took them down to meet the train, but while they were waiting, they remembered that they had forgotten their sleeping bags. I thought I had enough time to run back home and get them, but half way home on the interstate highway, I had a flat tire. To make matters worse, it was starting to rain. I had Connie with me, and we were a long way from a place where I could use a phone to call for help. We had no choice, but to get out and start walking. I was upset about our situation, and it was making Connie nervous as well.
We hadn’t gotten far when a man pulled over and offered us a ride. I hesitated because I’d had a bad experience once back in college when excepting a ride from a stranger, but I decided maybe he just felt sorry for us. It didn’t feel safe walking on the side of busy highway in a thunderstorm. The man was nice and got us to a service station where I could get help to change the tire. Since the errand to get the sleeping bags was in vain, we sent them money to buy new ones. The cost of sending them by mail would have been almost as expensive and would have taken longer.
********
If things worked out, we hoped to be able to take Connie to Disney World in late August. We would be driving to Orlando to take Carol down for her semester at Florida Hospital. Connie had always wanted to go to Disney World. Don and Christi would probably be able to go as well.
 Recognized |
I'm continuing to recall memories of life with my deceased husband, Evan, as if I am talking aloud to him. I'm doing this because I want my children to know us as we knew each other and not just as their parents.
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