Comp Lit

It is time that you received a post. Comparative literature has been the cause of much of my pain this semester. It is not the fact that I was landed there, without compassion, in a group of six guys to discuss rather misogynistic literature. I could have dealt with that without too much trouble. No, what has caused me such immense trouble in this course is one thing (or i should say, one person) and one person only. That person's name is Branson.
I will say here, in an attempt to be charitable, that Branson is a grad student, not a professor. That is the last positive word I will say about the fellow, not because there aren't others, but because at this moment in time I need to air my grievances against him. Positive points may arise later on in time... but not now.
Allow me to explain. He leads the class as if it were going to be a discussion class. Very well. But he then feels the need to rephrase anything that anyone says. Not only does this make the flow of communication and ideas very awkward, he tends to rephrase things so that they're more convoluted than they were when the person said them in the first place. Moreover, sometimes he gets so carried away with rephrasing (usually if an idea goes through his head that relates to said rephrasing) that he just keeps talking. For minutes on end. Sometimes he'll extend into the half-hour mark, just rattling away, pausing every once in a while to make sure we're not all catatonic, and then forging ahead in a river of comparative literature jargon laced with modernistic pseudo-philosophy. This would be fine if the class were an advanced level of comparative literature, but it isn't. It's elementary, my dear Watson. I'm pretty sure that if he'd just shut his mouth for about 5-10 minutes at a time, the class might actually discuss something of interest. The class, mind, not Branson. He can hold an endless discussion with his own illustrious self. Never mind the fact that he gets so carried away with what he's saying that discussion rarely, if ever heads in any particular direction or clarifies anything.
My second problem with Branson, apart from his apparent oafery at mediating discussion, is that to my way of thinking, he has failed at teaching us anything. His purpose in teaching the class, as stated by himself (and shortened by me) was to get us to think about the relationship between literature and life. How does literature affect life? Why do people read literature? What does literature have to do with life? Well, so far, these questions have scarcely been discussed. They have been alluded to, yes, but we never actually got into them. His purpose, as defined by the title "teacher" or "professor" is to help his students to understand some aspect of the world (in this case, modernism and comparative literature) that they did not understand before taking his class. In literature, what I take this to mean is that he is there to explain to us the ideas behind modernism, to help us analyze its texts for ourselves, and so forth. He does try, I think, to accomplish this, but he does it by raising questions that he wants us to reflect about. Now, this would be alright by me, if he didn't raise so MANY and questions, or if they weren't the sort of question that doesn't even hint that at the end of the mental effort it takes to slog through it, there will be anything worth knowing. I can deal with a few such questions, but not as many as he raises constantly. The whole class becomes just... questions. Questions without answers that raise more questions, based on questions, following into questions... it quickly begins to feel like a maze of smoke and mirrors.
Now, I have considered the possibility that the concepts of the class might just be too hard for me to understand. I am not yet sure how likely this is, or whether I am just not willing to put in the effort anymore to trying to understand what the heck is going on.
Honestly, I love a good discussion. I love deep thought. I love wondering about things, and pondering things. Anyone who knows me can attest to that. In a discussion, I usually have at least a few good, pithy things to say or questions to ask. However, in this class, I've given up. There is no reason for me to speak up only to be ignored, made fun of, or have my words twisted beyond recognition. I will rack my brains and write a killer paper that will knock stupid ol' Branson's socks off and I will depart that class shaking its dust off my feet and happier than a fish finally back underwater.

Just to sum things up for anyone who got tired and skipped to the end:
I am BURNT OUT from this class and officially HATE CompLit 181 Reading, Living Modernism because in my opinion the professor is incompetent. The end.