Weather, Boobs, and Capitalization

Last night was class #2 of my most wonderful meteorology course. The professor is every bit the scattered mad scientist one might expect. His notes are very mixed up and he gets off on tangents that can last 10-20 minutes. That means he's not the clearest when it comes to explaining just how his weekly reading and weekly quizzes will be handled. So as I deciphered his cryptic syllabus, I determined that I should probably read four chapters of material for the second class.

Let's just say here that switching back into "School Studying" mode after being away from it for five years is not the easiest. I knew this class would not be cake, but still, getting through some of the book material was very challenging. At least it was interesting.

Anyway, I get to class last night with almost all the reading completed, and I'm cramming last minute before class began. I'm thinking that if I look at the station model examples and the different types of surface maps and emissivity details and radiation wavelengths again all last minute, somehow it will all stick in my head for this impending quiz.

This is where my new favorite classmate comes in. We'll call him Joe. Joe cannot be older than 18. He's the guy who last week discovered that he had the wrong book for the course. He also asks me repeatedly if he's supposed to be writing something down. But he's so friendly that there's no way I can't like him. He's too cute. It's obvious that he can't stand the class and he's only taking it because it's a requirement. He razzes me for having a degree, as if it means I'm the head of NASA and solve physics equations for fun in my spare time. He spends most of the class either text messaging someone, shifting the hat around on his head, or shifting himself around uncomfortably in his seat, like someone's chained him to a hotplate.

It's also now obvious that he thinks I'm a geek for taking the class for fun, and due to that, is now latching on to me in case some group work is necessary. During last week's group question-answering session, after receiving our group's question to ponder, he immediately turned to me with his cute 18-year-old slacker smile and said, "You're the one with the degree, you answer it."

Last night, during my last minute cramming, he leans over to me with his innocent smile and says, "Did you actually read anything for tonight?"

Did I actually read anything? Did I? I spent five hours Monday night reading and taking notes on each chapter. Then, I spent my Tuesday lunch hour at work reading more, and then I also spent the hour after work doing the same. I was shocked that it was obvious that he'd not read anything. What about the quiz, my young impressionable friend?

Yet not wanting to appear too nerdy (why is it that I need to feel "cool" around an 18-year-old?), I say, "Yeah, I did -- but I didn't finish." As if those last few words marked my rebellion against The Man and my having to take such a horrible class.

Joe laughed at me. As I continued to shove information about insolation and the inverse square rule into my head, Joe changed the subject.

"It sucks that we have to have class tonight."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because it's Mardi Gras. We should be out looking at boobies."

While I should have been shocked at some random young guy I hardly know telling me that I should be spending my now educational Tuesday evening out oogling boobies, I'm instead thinking, "every minute I love Joe more." Not a lot of people would be this open with someone they've known for about four hours now.

Joe continued. "I'm worried that I could go this entire Mardi Gras day without seeing any boobs, and now I'm stuck in class."

"That is a problem," I responded. "But you know, when we leave this class, you'll still have about an hour and a half of the technical Mardi Gras holiday to go see boobs."

"I know," he said, leaning back and flipping his hat around for 14th time in five minutes. Then he smiled big again.

"And I am going to a party later tonight, and there will be girls there, so I'm sure I'll see some boobs."

"That's the spirit, man," I said, laughing. Joe went back to text messaging and I went back to the boobs. I mean books, I went back to the books.

So, last night just proved even more that Joe will continue to be a source of entertainment in this class.

Moving on, Dr. Mad Scientist reveals later that the reading assignments really have nothing to do with his lectures. He also reveals that his quizzes will deal with what he talks about in class, and not necessarily all that book-learnin' we'll be doing.

Dr. Mad Scientist then moves into his lecture for the night, which is one of the most confusing things I've ever listened to. It proves that just because you have a Power Point show prepared, it doesn't have to make any sense whatsoever. I notice that in his Power Power slides, whenever the word "manual" is used, he typed it out as "MANual." It's funny because he never explains why, and I presume it's because he's referring to human-made predictions and observations, and not that he thinks only MEN are meteorologists.

Later, he reveals that if you get meteorologists together over a beer, they will admit that their predictions are usually not that correct.

He also gets off into long tangents about equations and other things that clearly confuse the class. At one point, a classmate asks a question about tornadoes and meso-cyclones that can easily be answered in three sentences (I am a nerd, yes I know), and he goes into a 20 minute scattered tangent about wind. At the end of the tangent, the class is obviously lost, and he says, "And so that's why there's a difference. Pretty easy."

I realize that as far as the basics of meteorology go, I will learn more from the book that from Dr. Mad Scientist.

What he does excel at though, and this is because of his job with the National Centers for Environmental Prediction, is discussing how forecasting models are created and run. That part is fascinating and I am anxious to see more.

I also can't wait to see what Joe talks about next week.