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Yes, I know, that's a terrible pun that anyone who has ever taken Greek has heard a bazillion different times, but right now I just want to tear my hair out.
Greek (at least ancient Greek, I don't know anything about what they speak today) is a very complex language. So complex, to give you an example, that it has 24 forms of the word "the." I am not kidding or exaggerating in the slightest. It's required for all Lutheran seminary students to be able to read it with at least borderline competency, and they advise you to take it in college if you go to a school that offers it, to get it out of the way. Which I did. Two years of Greek, taught by Byron Stayskal who was just about the coolest prof I had in college, and very good at teaching a complex language in a fun and easy-to-remember way. And I was good at it. Really, I was. Languages come easier to me than most people, and I'm fairly finicky with grammar details in English, so I had a head start. I've been out of college for a year and a half now.
So I have a placement test from the seminary to do, to prove that I don't need to take Greek at seminary, and can take Hebrew instead (one is required to take a biblical language in Lutheran seminaries; if one knows Greek already, one takes Hebrew, a much easier language to learn, by all accounts). Why am I so adamant that I want to take Hebrew instead of Greek? Besides the fact that I already took Greek, it's because I'd rather audit the Greek class to brush up and have the easier Hebrew be the one I'm taking for a grade
It's a nightmare. I'm pretty sure this is all stuff that I know, but a) it's been a while and b) different professors focus on different things, and c) different professors use different terminology for some things. I'm not talking about major grammatical terms when I say different terminology, I'm talking about little finicky things--the kind of stuff that (normally) it's far more important that the student remembers what that itty bitty thing does, and not the precisely, properly correct term to describe it. Unfortunately, the little itty bitty finicky things convey, like, 2/3 of the meaning in a language like Greek.
So when one combines a, b, and c, I'm tearing my hair out because it's all familiar but I don't know exactly what the answer is supposed to be, or even (sometimes), what answer he's looking for. Needless to say, I'm tearing my hair out here.
Greek (at least ancient Greek, I don't know anything about what they speak today) is a very complex language. So complex, to give you an example, that it has 24 forms of the word "the." I am not kidding or exaggerating in the slightest. It's required for all Lutheran seminary students to be able to read it with at least borderline competency, and they advise you to take it in college if you go to a school that offers it, to get it out of the way. Which I did. Two years of Greek, taught by Byron Stayskal who was just about the coolest prof I had in college, and very good at teaching a complex language in a fun and easy-to-remember way. And I was good at it. Really, I was. Languages come easier to me than most people, and I'm fairly finicky with grammar details in English, so I had a head start. I've been out of college for a year and a half now.
So I have a placement test from the seminary to do, to prove that I don't need to take Greek at seminary, and can take Hebrew instead (one is required to take a biblical language in Lutheran seminaries; if one knows Greek already, one takes Hebrew, a much easier language to learn, by all accounts). Why am I so adamant that I want to take Hebrew instead of Greek? Besides the fact that I already took Greek, it's because I'd rather audit the Greek class to brush up and have the easier Hebrew be the one I'm taking for a grade
It's a nightmare. I'm pretty sure this is all stuff that I know, but a) it's been a while and b) different professors focus on different things, and c) different professors use different terminology for some things. I'm not talking about major grammatical terms when I say different terminology, I'm talking about little finicky things--the kind of stuff that (normally) it's far more important that the student remembers what that itty bitty thing does, and not the precisely, properly correct term to describe it. Unfortunately, the little itty bitty finicky things convey, like, 2/3 of the meaning in a language like Greek.
So when one combines a, b, and c, I'm tearing my hair out because it's all familiar but I don't know exactly what the answer is supposed to be, or even (sometimes), what answer he's looking for. Needless to say, I'm tearing my hair out here.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-20 02:27 am (UTC)From:Remember I said Luther had three concert bands? The lowest band was composed of anyone who wanted to play--no auditions. At least two years (my freshman and junior year) there were no less than seven oboes. Seven. Granted, it was a huge band ... but that's a lot of oboes! (It was so cool!)