Realm: Academia - Subrealm: ...Junior
Apr. 13th, 2007 10:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
choco_froshSo on Wednesday, I got interviewed at Hopkins School; as part of which I got to teach a class. I was originally going to post on this at greater length, but then I started playing Civ III again...
Anyway. Hopkins is a co-ed day school located in the remotest, toniest outskirts of New Haven, perched on a hill so that I can see it from my library carrel.. It was founded, depending on who you talk to, in 1620 or 1660—either way, later than my own ancient institution, though not very much so. Unlike the latter (which had the misfortune to have its new buildings erected during the 1950s), it has a rather attractive and functional cluster of buildings, since the original blocks were built in neo-federal in the early part of the last century, and the more recent stuff was built by some firm with (the thought!) the principal that they should blend in with existing structures and look attractive. (It is also clear that a good deal of the taste and good design is thanks to the expenditure of vast quantities of moolah. The Williams Almuni Association principal strikes again!)
I got up on Wednesday at a hideous hour, so that Grace, who was driving up to Simsbury that day, could drop me off before 8. I then got interviewed by two different people before going upstairsa to teach a class on the revolutions of 1848 in the Austrian Empire, notable as a) the only one of its year where someone ACTUALLY declared independence, and b) extreme confusion, as reflected by a contemporary Hungarian who wrote that "The KiKing of Hungary declared war on the King of Croatia, and the Emperor of Austria remained neutral, and all three monarchs were the same person.” It was also reflected in the confusion of the class, since I had to skip around between topics a lot. But the students actually talked, and I think I did a good job.
Then I went off to be interviewed by three more people, before being taken in to lunch (notablly edible). Then I headed off.
Or attempted to.
Grace, of course, had taken the car to work; I had too much stuff to carry on a bike. "So is there any public transportation in the area?" I asked the receptionist.
"Ummm...I think there's a bus that stops on the corner of [Insert street name], she replied. "That's at the bottom of the hill [you remember the hill? It's rather impressive], and then you go along [Avenue] for three blocks. I think it comes at quarter past, so you might just havve time to get there..."
Hastily, and still wearing my best (and least comfortable) shoes, I hurried down the hill, and hastened up to the traffic light and along to the third corner. About half way there, I remembered that I did not, in fact, have any cash, and that the New Haven buses do not accept Konstanz Studi-Tickets. So, having reached the corner and changed my shoes, I stood around reflecting on the bizaritude of life. Here I was, standing a mile from the center of New Haven (visible as a distant vision from the terrace of the school), waiting for a possibly mythical bus, which might or might not stop here, on an uncertain schedule, and for which I did not have the fare. I idly stuck out my thumb at passing cars as I waited. Just as I gave up on the bus and decided to foot it (hey, it was a nice day), I saw the bus.
"Hi," I said, filling a little silly, once the guy had pulled up. "I take it you don't take credit or debit cards?"
Fortunately, he took pity on me, and just let me ride for free. (The bus was mostly empty.)
Spent the afternoon in a bit of a daze, mostly since I hadn't planned anything, rather than due to burn-out.
Anyway. Hopkins is a co-ed day school located in the remotest, toniest outskirts of New Haven, perched on a hill so that I can see it from my library carrel.. It was founded, depending on who you talk to, in 1620 or 1660—either way, later than my own ancient institution, though not very much so. Unlike the latter (which had the misfortune to have its new buildings erected during the 1950s), it has a rather attractive and functional cluster of buildings, since the original blocks were built in neo-federal in the early part of the last century, and the more recent stuff was built by some firm with (the thought!) the principal that they should blend in with existing structures and look attractive. (It is also clear that a good deal of the taste and good design is thanks to the expenditure of vast quantities of moolah. The Williams Almuni Association principal strikes again!)
I got up on Wednesday at a hideous hour, so that Grace, who was driving up to Simsbury that day, could drop me off before 8. I then got interviewed by two different people before going upstairsa to teach a class on the revolutions of 1848 in the Austrian Empire, notable as a) the only one of its year where someone ACTUALLY declared independence, and b) extreme confusion, as reflected by a contemporary Hungarian who wrote that "The KiKing of Hungary declared war on the King of Croatia, and the Emperor of Austria remained neutral, and all three monarchs were the same person.” It was also reflected in the confusion of the class, since I had to skip around between topics a lot. But the students actually talked, and I think I did a good job.
Then I went off to be interviewed by three more people, before being taken in to lunch (notablly edible). Then I headed off.
Or attempted to.
Grace, of course, had taken the car to work; I had too much stuff to carry on a bike. "So is there any public transportation in the area?" I asked the receptionist.
"Ummm...I think there's a bus that stops on the corner of [Insert street name], she replied. "That's at the bottom of the hill [you remember the hill? It's rather impressive], and then you go along [Avenue] for three blocks. I think it comes at quarter past, so you might just havve time to get there..."
Hastily, and still wearing my best (and least comfortable) shoes, I hurried down the hill, and hastened up to the traffic light and along to the third corner. About half way there, I remembered that I did not, in fact, have any cash, and that the New Haven buses do not accept Konstanz Studi-Tickets. So, having reached the corner and changed my shoes, I stood around reflecting on the bizaritude of life. Here I was, standing a mile from the center of New Haven (visible as a distant vision from the terrace of the school), waiting for a possibly mythical bus, which might or might not stop here, on an uncertain schedule, and for which I did not have the fare. I idly stuck out my thumb at passing cars as I waited. Just as I gave up on the bus and decided to foot it (hey, it was a nice day), I saw the bus.
"Hi," I said, filling a little silly, once the guy had pulled up. "I take it you don't take credit or debit cards?"
Fortunately, he took pity on me, and just let me ride for free. (The bus was mostly empty.)
Spent the afternoon in a bit of a daze, mostly since I hadn't planned anything, rather than due to burn-out.
