First Week of Classes

So from here on out, in the interest of not boring my readers, I will reflect on more general terms the things that I experience rather than giving a chronology of what happens to me. I shall still have to refer to my journal. Give me a moment.
*precisely one moment passes*
I suppose the best use of this blog would be letting everyone know what my classes are like. I should start by mentioning that all of my teachers have been exceedingly friendly, cheerful and accommodating.
Tuesday mornings I have 3 hours of Equine Fitness, and on Wednesday 2 hours of Grassland Management. In both classes we began with brief PowerPoints and a discussion of basic points of horse care that form the foundation of these two topics, such as signs of health and illness in the horse, body condition scoring, types of common grazing grasses and toxic plants and good pasture management practices regarding drainage, fencing, water supply, etc.
The girls in the fitness class are HNC (Higher National Certificate) girls, which from what I gather means that they’re somewhere between 17 and 19 years old. A lot of them ignored me, which is relatively understandable, but several invited me to join them, both in the classroom and in the barn, and I am grateful to them for it. We spent some little time in the barn doing practice fitness assessments of some of the college’s chubbier horses. Our horse, Sky, was irritable at our intrusion into his full schedule of chomping on his hay, and it took us to the end of our session to get his pulse because he wouldn’t keep his head still. I’ll be going back out to the yard today (Friday) to do the official assessment that I’ll use for my semester assignment.
The HND (Higher National Degree) class was a bit smaller and seemed friendlier overall to me. They’re a smidge older, and although they’re pretty goofy there’s an air of respect about them that seems to be lacking in many of the younger kids at this college. The atmosphere in the classroom closely mimicked that of Dr. Giedt’s nutrition class and Cami’s health class, which made me feel at home almost immediately. Sharon had everyone introduce themselves to me, and through this I discovered that there is a wee, unofficial Allistair Cranston fan club on campus. I am not permitted to say more. ;-)
During the second half of class we took a long walk to a few paddocks that are to be the focus of our semester’s (or rather our “block’s”) practical work. I hadn’t realized that we’d be making such a jaunt, and I wish that I had had my camera with me. There are a few hills beyond the pastures, lots of green and a stone wall that needs a little repairing. I’m sure we will be out there again soon, possibly as early as next week. I will be sure to bring my camera to class from here on out.
My Heritage Studies class actually has boys in it. Well, not boys, really. Guys. And a few men. And some of them are attractive. I sat next to an English guy named Simon (or rather, he sat next to me) who has beautiful blue eyes and looks familiarly like several people I know from back home. Steve sat in the front near the window and had a big, ready smile, sparkling eyes and an A M A Z I N G voice (I realized last night why he looked so familiar – he looks a lot like Benji Schwimmer – major points in the hotness department, which bodes ill for me). Behind him was a (probably) 30-something guy named Alan that also had a fantastic accent, all full of brogue-ishness yet not difficult to understand.
The class boasts a smaller crowd that is noticeably older, not to mention more calm and introspective, than what I observed in my other two classes, and I felt quite comfortable around them (although there was one guy who remarked that if Scotland had no culture, “… it would be like America”). The teacher, Neil, is a likable goofball, and we spent most of our class time discussing the three types of heritage and digging up examples from around Scotland. Most of the examples ended up originating locally, from the Edinburgh area.
I am sad to say that I have not seen a single kilt nor heard a single bagpipe since I got here. The only traditional music I’ve heard has come from my own laptop (I am listening to a Slainte Mhath/Gaelic Storm bagpipe mix right now). I imagine there’s a traditional music shop in Broxburn somewhere – I’d love to explore that little town as soon as possible. It seems irresistibly charming.
I think in my next blog I will describe the area – the buildings, the land, the weather, the people, the food – with a focus on the various points that strike me due to their contrast to what I’m used to. It's been overcast for the past day and a half, but as I type this my room is brightening with sunshine!! Getting ready to talk to Mom on Skype again, then I have to head up to the yard.
Wonderful sunshine!! I'm so excited!!!!!
♥
SM