Also, we found out tonight that - hell, I don't even know how to phrase this pithily. So far in all of three weeks of Calculus I, the butterball had decided to introduce the concept of limits to us for the very first time using ANALYSIS METHODS NORMALLY NOT PRESENTED UNTIL A MATH MAJOR'S THREE HUNDRED LEVEL COURSES. I am simultaneously pleased with myself that I was doing a fairly good job of grokking it anyway, and INTENSELY relieved that no, Calculus I is NOT really supposed to be that fucking hard, we're supposed to be three years deep in it before we have to learn that shit. What in god's name possessed this jackass to INTRODUCE calculus with third-year math-major analytical techniques?
However, sometimes the shittiest things lead to the nicest things. As shitty as it was for him to abandon the class out of nowhere, instead of some random ESL'er grad student with neither the aptitude, the training, nor the motivation for teaching, we now have a genuine, no-shit, this-is-really-my-job-and-I-care about it instructor. Who speaks fluent English. And makes EYE CONTACT with the class. And answers questions. I feel better about this class after a single night with her teaching it - I can actually pay attention to the INSTRUCTOR in class now instead of taking "notes" out of the textbook, huzzah!
And now, off to see The 40 Year Old Virgin with Leigh.