Madness? This is Graduate Study!

This week has been surreal. I've stepped into an alternate reality.

A place where people know me as "The Medievalist Daniel" and have never heard of the King's University College (is that in Ontario?)

A place where class registrations are handled by an arcane online database known as "Bear Tracks", unless you're in the know, in which case you'll use a system called "Bear Scat" (developed a few years ago by a CompSci student), except that the SU isn't providing funding for it anymore, so don't expect it to work; oh, you're in graduate studies? well then all your registration is handled within the department anyway. You want to switch classes? Sure! Oh, that one was cancelled. That one was cancelled too. Yes, that one will work; I can't register you today, but let me know which ones you want switched and call me back on Monday. Or you could just sign up for it yourself with Bear Tracks.

A place where food comes from a mall, that's inside of a dorm, that's in between the humanities offices and the library; except you really don't want to eat there, especially not at that place, but the coffee's decent.

A place where you're expected to decide on a "thesis" and "supervisory comittee", even though you don't really know what either of those mystical words mean, but you don't have to rush it, because you don't have to decide for sure until March, but don't put it off because professors tend to get very busy at the end of term and you want to snag them while they're still available. There'll be a seminar explaining most of the details at the end of the month. No, the time and place aren't on the website... I think it's a Thursday in the afternoon. No, it's not in the e-mail newsletter... Oh, that reminds me, do you want to be a part of the university teaching program?

A place where 6:30-9:20 classes end at 9:35 because the professor wants to make sure that you can understand the assignment for next week. Yes, it's a class of graduate students. Yes, it's printed clearly in the handout. No, your bus won't wait for the professor to finish explaining.

This is a place I'll begin to call home over the next year. Luckily, I'm used to pretending that I know what's going on.