The course on Spanish political novel I’m taking as a student starts on Thursday. At this point, I’m taking it more as a psychological mechanism than anything else. I loved being a student, and it’s a sort of a harmless escapism to go back to the student persona and relive my youth, so to speak.
Curiously, the only thing I miss from being young is getting assigned reading lists. It’s simply not the same when you assign them to yourself.
I hope that the person teaching the course doesn’t figure out who I am because we are at different stages of our careers in our shared field, so to speak. Also, I was a student from hell, torturing every professor I ever met in a supercilious, obnoxious way. I’m hoping I can keep that part of my personality under control in this course.
And now I have to go do homework for the first day of class.