Brain Ooze

Disclaimer: it is very likely this post will contain explicit content, ranting, raving, and general rage. Continue at your own risk. 

I. am. on. the. verge. of. coming. unglued. 

If you want the abridged version of this post it can be summed up in a few sentences. 

1) Grad school is freaking hard

2) Even harder when you're in a class that is being team taught by two professors with completely different styles of teaching and a mutual disdain towards the counseling profession (seriously) 

3) Even HARDER when you're assigned a giant project, with almost no instruction and one week to get it all done...no joke 

Let's put my anger this way. I was angry last Tuesday. I was irritated, overwhelmed and exhausted. It's now Monday and that has all shifted to flat out rage and near hatred. 

The class I'm in currently is psychological assessment. Now, as a counselor, you don't give assessments. You don't have to interpret them or score them. You're handed a nice little summation in layman's terms so that you can create a treatment plan, IEP, etc. You only ever have to know what is on the NCE to pass your test....that's it. 

This class is an 8 week class that is being taught by two professors that I actually had in undergrad. I had high hopes, as one of them is a great professor...in my eyes. This class, however, has completely ripped me to shreds. I have a 3.5 GPA in master's level courses, I'm getting a D in this course. That in and of itself is frustrating. What is more frustrating is that I do my work for this class. I read the chapters assigned that are sometimes upwards of 75 pages a week. That's not that much reading, however, we are then quizzed on that reading the following week. Have you ever begun to even think about how to condense 75 pages into a 20 point quiz? Lemme tell you. Near impossible. No matter what, if I read, if I miss a chapter, if I take notes, if I make flashcards...I NEVER guess what info will be on the quiz. I have never gotten higher than a C on one of the quizzes. 

Now, that's not that terrible, however, we were assigned an assessment project that literally means we have to give out two assessments to undergrads who are volunteering for extra credit. One assessment is over IQ and cognitive work, the other is over personality. In actuality it's 5 separate tests, that we have to administer, in the counseling lab, while recording it and THEN we have to write a report on our findings. To sum that up, I (someone who will never, ever, ever, give an assessment) am being asked to administer (in what little free time I have) 5 assessments, then score said assessments, and write a report on each finding. I am neither qualified nor motivated to do such and we received exactly no instruction on how to write these reports other than a minimally constructed rubric. Now, if that was enough to be frustrated over, I go to give the IQ assessment tonight and the professor I least enjoy, decides to sit behind the observation window and watch me give it. I sweated through the entire thing, messed up a large portion, felt completely inadequate and frustrated. I believe it was completely unfair for him to randomly observe me, as that was never discussed in class and isn't supposed to be part of the grading process. 

I'm mad about all that, but then I'm more mad because we literally got the instructions for this last week, couldn't even begin doing it until this week, and it's all due next week. I'm not sure what they were thinking but this is the most poorly structured class I've ever been in. 

As if all of that isn't bad enough, I feel like the professors genuinely look down on us because we're pursuing counseling as a profession. They've both made comments that generally suggest that they believe assessment and actual "psychology" is far superior than what our tiny counselor minds can wrap around. They've mentioned that our counseling theories are statistically non-significant and are mostly unfounded. In one class, a professor verbally abused a student in front of the entire class. We were all left shell shocked as we all just sat in horror at his attack on her. He was rattling off term after term that we didn't understand and I'm pretty sure we were all confused but she chose to speak up, asking sarcastically "could you speak English please?". He then attacked her, stating he was speaking English, and then proceeded to repeat the info he just said, slower, condescendingly and even overusing the word that initially tripped her up. When she was still confused and semi-arguing with him, he just glared at her until she said "I'll just shut up". To which he replied snidely "That would be wise". In all of my years of schooling I have never been so offended by an exchange between professor and student. The entire class was catatonic the rest of the duration and I can honestly say I don't think much learning was accomplished after that point. 

I understand this is all just a rant, and none of it can I really change or prevent from occurring. I teach my kids at work everyday that life isn't fair and things happen "to us" but that behavior doesn't happen "to us", we choose how we respond to the unfairness that is life. I hate that I'm too smart right now to react the way I'd like to. 

I screamed on the way home a little. I put in the one CD I wanted to listen to and scream/sing/vent and it skipped during all four of my favorite songs. I got home and immediately wanted to run, but my elliptical is in the garage still. I actually called Manuel on the way home and warned him I was on the verge of killing someone and that I needed to be left alone when I walked in the door. I literally walked in my house, threw my keys at the table, threw my coat in the corner and went directly to the shower. I literally scrubbed my skin, seriously I think I exfoliated my bones with my "Anti-Stress Body Wash". I'm not sure if that's how that stuff is supposed to work because I was a pretty angry shower candidate. The soothing spearmint and eucalyptus, along with "Rolling in the Deep" playing on loop seemed to help a little. I'm in my pink fluffy robe, under my pink fluffy blanket, on my couch with Band of Horses blaring through my headphones and I'm feeling a little better. However, I still want to install a punching bag in my garage. 

I just keep telling myself. SEVEN. MORE. DAYS.