BSWP

I recently took a class that was far more like summer camp than a class. Sandra, who mentioned it in a comment below, was my only saving grace in this endeavor. It was three weeks of people crying, talking about their miracle children (who were just normal kids with nothing special to boast), musing about their miracle spouses (who were just normal spouses with nothing special to boast), making "Where are the tissues?" jokes, turning EVERYTHING into some sort of sexual innuendo, and extolling the rejuvenating, inspirational qualities of the class. It was wretched. On the final day of class, it took them two full hours to say good bye to each other. Everyone needed thanked, and hugged and then someone had to take a picture and then someone else had something touching to say and then the box of tissues needed to be found and another "Where are the tissues?" joke erupted among the masses. For so much time during this class, I was acutely aware of the minutes of my life I was wasting - the minutes that I would never, never see again. There was some learning - about three hours a day after the first three days - but even that was touch and go. I took the class because a professor I trust told me that I would absolutely love it and that it would be instrumental in my teaching career. I took it because he somehow had me fooled into thinking it was free - something I learned was contrary to the truth 90% of the way through the class. But alas, it is over and I will never have those three weeks or that $700 again. And if someone sees this "internship credit" on my transcript or resume when I apply for teaching positions, what will I say to them? I will tell them it was inspirational, one of the most influential classes of my college career that has truly shaped the way I instruct a classroom.