Tried so hard to be someone that you forgot who you are

My Creative Writing professor pulled me aside after class today and asked if I was a graduate student. I told him, yes, I was. He had gotten a roster at the beginning of the semester that said I was enrolled in the 301 section of the course (for undergraduates) but had gotten an updated roster this week saying that I was, lo!, one of those crazy kids who had already received an undergrad degree and had decided that it wasn't enough. "I was treating you like everybody else the whole time," he said, looking irritable about it. I said that I appreciated that. "Well, usually, there are more stringent requirements for graduate students in undergraduate classes. It's too late in the semester to do that to you, but I would like you to stop by my office sometime to discuss it." I told him that I'd be happy to.

I don't know what we could possibly discuss that would have any real bearing on the rest of the term, but it's interesting that he wasn't aware of my "situation" until now. I mean, the university is supposed to be on top of those kinds of things. And this guy, he's a real AUTHOR and EDITOR and FROM NEW YORK CITY and everything; you'd think he would have been able to pick up on the fact that the caliber of my writing was better than what the rest of the class was churning out. (I'm not saying that to be egocentric; remember, this is the class with the kid who thinks that geishas are horses.) Anyway. We're meeting on Monday. 'Should be interesting.

I have my Argumentation midterm tonight. I've been studying like a crazy person. We're allowed to leave when we've finished, so I'll be home earlier than usual. I have a good feeling about it. I think I'm prepared. (God, I hope I'm prepared.)