I’m not sure what this is going to be. Whether it’s going to be a story, critic, thesis, review or rant. But hey, this is article 10 out of 10, it’s three days before the deadline, so here it goes. With the Champions League on the big 65 inch tv, the Chinese eaten and a three year old boy’s white- yes as white as an old mans hair – freshly washed flamboyant and gloriously curly hair within in patting distance, here goes nothing.
Some of the names have been changed to protect those involved.
Reader discretion is advised.
The first day I ever in Griffith College, I was confused and frightened. I remember it not being my first ever class, but the first one I remember was Ray Pride’s class. Indeed, the peacockish looking, cogent sounding Ray Pride from a city of the midlands in England is my first memory of this place. His accent is to die for, his casual wearing of clothes to fit in with the lads, wearing a red hoodie, with the hood up, meant to all that he immediately was one of the very few classes a student would’ve wanted to be in on a Monday morning. His first thing for us to do was to write down three things about us. I remember writing down that I had a three year old godson. Which was untrue. He was only 3 months old at the time. I can’t remember what else I wrote down nor do I remember anything else what happened that day.
Another all-time great lecturer I was beholden to have was Eamon Practice. My respect for him was at the most elevated ranking one could get as a lecturer. His character and demeanour forced all of his students to venerate him as if he was a baby rabbit. His Writing Presentations class was infatuating and overwhelming in intrigue.
As the year continued, I had a great one. Great, interesting, stimulating classes or ‘courses’ with thought-provoking lecturers. Nothing too doltish, nothing too efficacious to talk about really. Apart from the fact I learnt a lot and ate nearly as much. The second semester, I had unfortunately lost the services of Eamon Practice – little did I know in December 2013, that I wouldn’t have those services for over two years! In the second semester I did keep Ray Pride. Along with other new lecturers, I was immediately smitten to have Dr. C. Morris each week. A man of a thousand words to explain everything to why keys rattle to what the economic status of El Salvador will be on 29 May 2071 at 12:30 am. Oh yes, Dr. C. Morris is the greatest of them all.
This is not a deep, in sight into every single thing I did, it’s a quick summary more than anything. It’s a last minute article for something I’ve already passed with ease because of my other nine pathetic articles. So here goes year two. Or second year. Year two sounds British.
Second year was as good a year, a year can be without the services of Eamon Practice. We has both Ray Price and Dr. C. Morris for both semesters in more engrossing subjects. With Ray we did a web designing kind of thing. Something I got highly marked on. As for Dr. C. Morris we had more unforgettable, captivating stuff. What ever it was.
Outside the classroom I was much more happy with the food at Arthur’s. The Live Action restaurant either came in for the first time or I had it for the first time. Big man Gustav and his boys make the best of all chicken ciabatta money can buy.
Year three. Third year. Another semester without the epochal Eamon Practice. A fourth in a row. And on top of that, Ray Pride was an elective kind of thing. So for the first ever time. Dr. C. Morris was also absent. Luckily for me, all three would be back for the Spring semester of 2016.
With the three big boys back, Dr. C. Morris, Ray Pride and Eamon Practice (for the first time since 2013) I was happy as Larry.
Nothing else to add. Except for the fact I enjoyed the three big boys classes – passed them all with flying colours. Enjoyed the meals in Arthur’s.
Year 4. Has so far been good. Other than that Dr. C. Morris & Eamon Practice. And a few more awesome electives.
Stir fry added to the chicken ciabatta sandwich. Arthur’s is more awesome than ever.
The library is absolutely awful. Absolutely awful. Louder than a stadium when a goal is scored. Horrendous. Thank goddess I’ve had the idea to go into a spare room in the college to study over the last three and a half years.
Friends too. I made a lot of friends.
I’ve had great, good and bad lecturers, courses, meals and friends here. But it has been the best place since primary school.
This is not a sarcastic story, it’s my very enjoyable time using funny words.
(This article can be taken down if one so pleases, as long as I pass- this article something I look forward to expanding on for my creative writing course next year). I’ll keep a copy.