Prof. Ben-Porat, of the Lit. dept., asked me to e-mail her my lesson notes after each lesson of her course, for our mutual benefit. I get the bonus of her attention to my notes -- corrections, clarifications, comments -- and she gets some indication of how her lecture was received, what might need further elaboration, etc., as well as a potential basis for handouts or future teachings aids (so she suggested). She asked this of me at the end of the second lesson. I sent her the summary of the very next lesson, which was yesterday. Today she wrote back, with polite praise of my notes, and asked me to keep on sending notes after each lesson. I'm glad this turns out well.
The Greek language is treating me nicely so far. I'm acquiring some feel for its morphology, and that's a good sign, and I have no trouble following the grammar in class. Of the twenty-one students who showed up at the first lesson, there now remain eighteen. A grade sheet for last year's mo'ed gimel (what's the English term for that? Basically, a third opportunity to take an exam, following either failure at or inability to attend the previous exams) results for the year-long course of Classical Greek for Beginners (the one I'm taking now), and none exceeded 70 (out of 100). One was 23, two others were in the 40s. Oy...
I'm trying very hard not to fall behind on my reading duties. I need more time.
Went to the university bookstore after my classes, to buy a folder and some paper pads. Following a sizeable purchase two weeks ago, I had declared a moratorium on book purchases. In an exemplary display of my famous iron will, I picked up a folder, some paper, ignoring hundreds of enticing books and obvious traps in glossy hardcover. But then, woe of woes, whom should I chance upon but Corruption Incarnate himself, ygurvitz, leering at me from the corner of the Ancient History bookshelves. For extra effect, he was accompanied by the insidious Baron ravell. I felt a cold hand gripping my liver and squeezing. I knew it was all over.
I fought bravely, I struggled with all my might, but the trap was firmly shut around my ankles. How could I face them and say I'm studying ancient Greek when I don't have a copy of Herodotos? Or Thucydides...? Or Polybius...? Or Plutarchos...? You know the rest of the story.
I had planned to keep working at 70 percent capacity. I was completely unrealistic. If I'm lucky, I might be able to squeeze in about 30 percent. Sigh.
But life is good, and I must finish my Greek exercises for tomorrow morning's class.