Yesterday's entry about the passing of Dr. John R. Zaums, my freshman year religion professor started me thinking about that first semester at Marywood, way back in the fall of 1979, and that's my report card you see above. Back then, your grades came in the mail. And yes, kids, we had mail back then.
As you can see, I didn't set the world on fire. You can't say I didn't try. That first semester was rough-- 18 credits. I came from a bad high school and getting used to the college way of doing things was a major adjustment. I'm not blaming anyone but myself. At least, it wasn't a John Blutarsky zero point zero.
Notice that big "A" at the top in Dynamics of Speech Communication! It is self explanatory. I always could talk.
Next was Introduction to Communication Theory. It was dry, and I really didn't enjoy it. The course was all classroom stuff, while I was itching to get into the radio and television stations. It's another one of those courses that was a "must have" if you wanted that degree. There was no escaping the "theory" courses.
There was a "B" in a history course called Roots of the Modern World. I love history, but this one went back a bit too far for me. I do recall that I didn't dread walking into that classroom two afternoons a week. During that first semester, a lack of dread was huge.
Next up was a French lab. Welcome to the world of dread. I would sit in a huge media center, usually alone, put on headphones, and listen to people speak in French on tape. I was supposed to repeat and respond. I never did. Hey, they were speaking a foreign language! As comedian Steve Martin once said, "The French have a different word for everything!" I will admit never missing a lab day saved my butt. My French professor, and we are still in touch 44 years later, said that if you attended all your labs, she would bump up your grade. For example, a C would become a C+, a C+ would become a B, etc. I had to take two semesters of a foreign language, and that second French semester, in the spring of 1980, was a tremendous struggle. I knew I was failing. As the spring semester came to a close, I reminded Sr. Mary that I went to every lab, so my F+ should be a D. Imagine my glee when my grades arrived and I received my D. It is among my greatest gifts-- ever.
Back to fall 1979... Next is the actual French course. I hadn't been in French class since my freshman year of high school. I was lost here, and I was amazed that I came out of that first semester with a C. It was another gift.
The Writing Skills course still bugs me to this day, and it taught me a valuable lesson in playing the game. This was another one of those courses that everyone had to take, and that's fine. We should all learn to write more gooder. The major strike against me in that course was a research paper. I used a few good sources rather than several mediocre ones. Even though it was a perfectly written paper, the professor wanted quantity of sources, not quality and I got whacked for it. Again, I take responsibility. It's on me. Live and learn. Play the game. Years later, I was reminded of that course when the waitress in the movie "Office Space" was penalized for the lack of "flair" on her uniform. She was doing a good job. It wasn't enough. I feel compelled to add that there was an A in a news writing course a year later, and another A for my senior year thesis, a huge research paper. Yes, I could write, sometimes with flair.
Don't laugh at the next one: Bowling/Golf. Two physical education courses were a requirement back then. One had to be aquatics. That didn't come until my junior year, and I'm not a swimmer. I'm thankful I didn't drown. My last time in a pool was that class in the summer of 1982. Since then, it's been nothing larger than a hot tub. While I regret not taking tennis, which always fascinated me, bowling and golf wasn't bad. We golfed the first half of the semester, mostly using the fields on campus. There was one adventure to a golf course in Taylor. I'd killed a lot of days at a local driving range, so I was fair at launching a golf ball. The instructor saw what I could do, so he made sure I wouldn't get the good clubs. My hits came too close to a parking lot. When cold weather arrived in the second half of the semester, we bowled at MBC Lanes in Dunmore. It used to be beneath a department store on the O'Neil Highway. Big Lots is there now, and there is a furniture store where the bowling alley used to be. I bowled a lot with a high school buddy back in the day, so I knew my around the alleys. Another A! Yay!!
Sadly, that Marywood course was the last time I picked up a golf club. The game didn't interest me. I did bowl several more times, and that was a long time ago.
And finally, it was the Dr. Zaums course that started this two day blog odyssey. Dr. Zaums was a good guy, but religion just wasn't my jam. I was satisfied with a C in Modern Beliefs and Unbeliefs.
As I said at the top, I was exceptionally mediocre, at best, that first semester, and I managed to turn it around. More A's came when I was taking courses in my major, and my minor of Public Relations. There were A's in some non communications courses after I learned the college way of doing things and I gained some confidence. I was honorable mention for the Lynett Medal for "distinction in communication arts." A public relations major won the medal, and deservedly so. I was satisfied at being the best broadcaster.
Let me add a few words about my first two communications courses. One was taught by a gentleman who came and left Marywood in one year. It just wasn't a good fit. I know. The same thing happened to me at a job years later. Strangely enough, we got along fine and I liked the guy, even though he put me in a horrible position one morning. He knew things weren't gong well, and he wasn't very popular with my classmates-- especially the non freshmen. He took me aside and asked what the other students thought of him. How do you reply to a question like that? I stammered that we never really discussed it, and I hadn't heard anything negative. I lied. I don't regret tap dancing around the truth.
The head of the communications department taught my other freshman comm course. Friends, this is one of my great regrets about my Marywood years. It seemed odd to me at the time, but radio/television and theater were under the same umbrella. While both are performing arts, they are very different. Those of us in broadcasting always believed the department head favored the theater people. On top of that, I felt the man was a stiff, a stick in the mud, someone out of touch. I was wrong. Very wrong. In order to graduate, you needed to produce a one hour radio show, a half hour television show, or write a lengthy research paper. Only one member of the class of 1983 chose to write the paper: me. It made perfect sense. I didn't have the time. Scheduling production time, on top of my job at WARM, would have been impossible. The other options required cooperation of classmates. I easily would have received it. I didn't want it. The paper was all "me." I could do what I wanted, when I wanted. Plus, the only thing I really had confidence in was my ability to write. I wasn't the greatest performer. I wasn't the greatest at all the technical stuff, even though there were A's in television production, and I was already working in professional and paid radio. The thesis received an "A" and it's my proudest Marywood achievement. As the department head and I were in a meeting and discussing the paper, what was in it, how I reached my conclusions, etc., we launched on frank discussions of the school, the program, and ourselves. I discovered the faculty member I never bonded with in three and a half years was the greatest guy. Sensitive, smart, savvy, and simply a good person. I'm sorry I learned that lesson too late, but at least I did have that epiphany.
Years later, my parents told me how worried they were during that first Marywood year, fearing I would work myself to death. It was not uncommon to hear me banging away at my typewriter long after midnight. I'm grateful the family could afford a great education, and I thank them for their patience. Being a college student is not a 9 to 5 job. I was always out late at night, working at the college radio station, and at my WARM 590 job that I secured in my sophomore year. There was a lot of time away from home, missing family events, weekends, and holidays. They understood this is what I loved and there was never a complaint, even though I knew there were times the family was disappointed I wasn't around.
I've written thousands of blogs in the past 19 years, and this has to be among my favorites. While that first semester was filled with fear and anxiety, there were more than enough plusses-- new locale, new friends, new challenges, a little independence, and a lot of growing up. Reliving it brings a smile to my face. As I've always said, as the years roll on, the bad stuff becomes less important and the good things take on a new shine.
Well, that ends today's trip down memory lane, and I really enjoyed giving you this peek at the way things were, 44 years ago.
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