<p>Feel free to be blunt and critical I won’t break down and cry :D. I have high hopes for college; some ivies, morehouse, howard, duke. The essay is about a class that spanned 4 years and was 2 periods every day. Enjoy!</p>
<pre><code> Colloquium
Witty, dynamic, and insightful! While these terms are applicable to the debonair author of this work, I am actually referring to the course that made me so. In addition to being the bane of tongues across America, Colloquium is a two period GT class that so marries the study of English and social studies that its students are inundated with culture, steeped in philosophy, and saturated with opinion. As a result, my mind is now a thousand times more absorbent than any paper towel advertised on television.
My first year there was something akin to spinning around ten times fast, then jumping on a rollercoaster that ran through a kaleidoscope. By its close, not only was I unsteady and nauseous but I was also graded for said experience. The social studies portion was like some twisted war re-enactment, except my mind was the soldier and the teacher shot facts and strategies instead of bullets. English, on the other hand, was something of consummate difficulty to deep-sea diving during a tsunami. Amidst the waves of imagery from A Tale of Two Cities or the winds of change in The House on Mango street I can still hear my teacher scream: Quit just floating on the surface and dive deeper! like some hostile scuba instructor. You can imagine the confusion when asked to integrate the two in an assignment. And yet, in the hysteria that accompanied my improbable survival of this course, I returned year after year.
I returned for the chaos. Somehow, some way, the instructors had so adroitly co-ordinated the program that it became a well-oiled machine of organized chaos. Its frenzied volleys of assignments had readied my mind for the vicissitudes of life. Its relentless pressure to succeed in the pandemonium bolstered my ability to focus and remain concise. And its welcoming halls, gilded with Shakespearian insults and political satire, have forever earned it a place in my heart of hearts. Emerson once wrote: With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do. He may as well concern himself with his shadow on the wall. Without the salubrious turbulence afforded by such a rigorous course early into my academic career, I wouldve been content with the hum-drum consistency prevalent in the classes around me; forever doomed to only admire what my potential could be and regard it only as a shadow
incomplete and intangible. But with Colloquium in my life, consistency is nonexistent. I strap on my purple heart, grab some scuba gear, and finally dive deeper into the truths of life; unconcerned with the shadows of their existence.
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