Wednesday, April 01, 2009

Love Story, Part 1

School started, you know, sometime in the middle of January. I hadn't wanted to go back to school this semester. I was tired of it, felt it was useless, was ready to do more exciting and productive things than stress out about assignments I wasn't even interested in. As a result, I registered for classes just a couple of days before classes started, and discovered that my schedule didn't quite fit. Everything I needed was on Tuesday night, it seemed, and Tuesday was choir, and I knew I'd go crazy with another musicless semester. I juggled and schemed, and signed up for Curriculum Development, Educational Research, and Learning Styles (Part Two).

Enter the Learning Styles class Wednesday night. (I promise, it becomes a love story soon.) Jackie B walks into the classroom with her box of learning games (what would be the point of a learning styles class if we had to sit still all class and listen to a lecture, as if we were all low-mobility and auditory?) looks at me, and says, "but you passed this class last semester!"

Right. Learning Styles Part Two? Happening in Broken Arrow, on a totally different night. I signed up for the same class I'd already taken. And, as she pointed out, passed. With flying colors, I might add.

So, five minutes later I was in Dr. C's office saying "What do I do? I have to be full-time to get health insurance, and this was all that fit in my schedule!" And she said, "Do you have to be in choir?" And I said "YES." And she said, "ok, here's what we can do. I'll put you in this super-useful undergrad class which will actually teach you HOW to teach, and not just tell you about theorists, and you will contract with the professor for extra work for grad credit." And I said, "super."

Enter said undergrad classroom the next Monday. Actually, we're going to skip till the next Wednesday, since the prof was gone on Monday. There's a very opinionated auburn-haired boy in a baseball cap across the table from me. He has a charming smile. His nametag says "Ryan." End of story.

Several weeks later, he still had a charming smile, but this time he was smoking outside the Education building as I walked in. I waved and kept walking. He finished his cigarette and started walking behind me. I really wanted to turn around and say something, but I couldn't think of anything, so I continued awkwardly walking in front of him and pretended I wasn't acutely aware of his presence behind me.

February 16, I was wearing Leokadia's beautiful blue dress, a lacy white shirt, and black leggings.

Ryan: You look nice!
Mc: (didn't even hear him. Was staring vacantly at the wall, or something.)
Beth: I don't think she heard you.
Ryan: Well, fine then. Nevermind.
Me: Huh???
Dr. G: Just to remind you, we're not having class on Wednesday the 25th. Don't show up.
Ryan: That's Ash Wednesday.
Me: Catholic Identification Day!
Ryan: (huffy) Well, then I guess I'm gonna have to be identified, because I'm a Catholic.
Me: You are?? That's awesome! Me too!
Ryan: ...oh. (feels silly for being huffy)

And that, my chickpeas, is how we met. Later that day he asked me if I knew about Clear Creek Monastery, and I said, "oh my gawsh." You know, that's only why I MOVED here. He "knows the B----- family really well." Begin flashback to one of the B---- girls telling me, months ago, that "we have this friend who goes to (decently large school where hopefully I'm anonymous enough not to be stalkable, but I'm still not gonna say the name) named Ryan, and we really want you to meet him! He's funny, and you're going to like him a lot." So I decided to give him a chance, or at least to let him keep following me around like a puppy dog.

And the rest, as they say, is history. We started dating two days later, and two weeks later we'd decided to get married. Six weeks after we met, I have a ring on my finger, but that story is for a later installment.