Miss Cranky Pants in the House

Every Saturday at 8:30 in the freaking morning, you can find me sulking in class, arms folded with a "Do not disturb" look posted on my face. I don't know what it is about this Masters program that makes me so angry but for the 8 hours I'm sitting in that classroom, I am not a happy camper. Actually, I'm downright agitated, peevish and sometimes even angry. Maybe its because I feel like our program is the bastard child of GW, concocted only to swindle money out of working professionals who were lured in with the promise of a worthwhile education at a rapid pace. Or maybe its because half the professors are unqualified to teach and spend most of the 3.5 hours reciting a monologue that only makes sense to them and no one else. Or it could be the fact that nothing is well organized (a personal pet peeve) as evidenced by the last minute scheduling, the router that doesn't accommodate the number of students in the building and the fact that the accounting department has yet to get anything right. Any (or probably all) of the reasons drive me crazy to no end and every Saturday is a reminder of how my hard earned money is being sucked out by the money-grubbing GW. So every Saturday I sit in the classroom, pissed and peeved. And out from my mouth comes smart-aleck comments and death ray stares. One time I badgered a group with questions until the professor finally said enough. I'm not proud of these moments. In fact, if I ever saw any of my classmates or even worse, my teachers, out of the classroom, I'd be too embarassed to say hi because I'm really not the horrible kid I portray in class. But every Saturday, I find myself crossing my arms and posting the sign "Beware of dog".