Sunday afternoon was spent washing and waxing the '92 S-10 pick up. Tomorrow she would go back to school. It had been 6 years since she had attended the University of Arkansas. She was younger then, quicker and stronger. She would not carry the same person, nor would she spend her afternoons carrying band equipment around campus. On monday morning she fired up and headed off to her first 7:30 am class. The class was object orientated programing, Perl. It was to be the last time the course was offered at the U of A, by Ron Skeith.   Skeith, a 70 year old professor was teaching his last semester. Like the pickup, he still had lots of life, and like the pickup I think he will return also.

Old Main, University of Arkansas

Things have changed at the school, the computer science department has been moved, so after some uneasiness and being lost, and with the help of some younger students the navy blue pickup's passenger made it to the first class. And so the passenger now became a student once again. The teacher surveyed the room and students faces. He said hello and welcome back to most, including a junior who was in his 50's. The junior made the new student begin to feel at ease. As the teacher saw new students he asked them about themselves. When asked, the new student told the class he was a mechanical engineer who graduated in 1973. Heads turned in his direction with lots of puzzled looks. Why are you here, their faces spoke. "To learn" was the simple response. Where did you get your degree, the teacher asked. "New Jersey Institute of technology".  "Isn't that the old Newark College of Engineering, in Newark New Jersey?".   "Yes" was the reply. "Newark is dangerous, how could any one go to school there".  "that is part of the graduation criteria", the new student said proudly,  "Surviving till graduation was part of the requirement for a degree". A short laugh and there were no longer any strangers in class. The new student now felt at home. The journey has begun. If nothing else it will be fun, exciting and a learning experience. Where the journey goes, only time will tell. But for now, the Blue S-10 Pickup is home again.

 
My Perl programming class continues to go well. I really look forward to it on Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings.

Dr. Skeith seems to have a habit of mine; he likes to give out nicknames. Ron, in the front row, has an Apple laptop and sings the praises of Apple, so he has become “Apple”. The girl behind me wears a red knit cap and has become “Red”, short for “Red Riding Hood”. I remain the “Dago”.

The professor claims we should also get a 1-hour credit in humanities, since he continues to give us a ‘free’ life lessons in each class.  I am particularly fond of “Any one can write programs that do not work and get paid for it, Bill Gates is proof of that” 

One of the other students, Keith, is about 50 years old.  Like me, he has written programs for the real world.  I find that we both program differently from the rest of the students, mostly because of our experience. For example, we had to write a program that lists the names of employees that are over age 44.  Keith and I both programmed the code to print the last name, first name, and age on the report and assigned a unique record number for each individual.  When the prof went over the exercise, he used only last names. He was trying to keep it simple, and none of the students picked up on the fact there could be two “Johnsons”, till Keith mentioned something. 

Dr. Skeith has taught at the University for 40 years; this is his last semester. While it is quite obvious he would like to continue teaching, he is enjoying his last semester. He pokes fun at the rest of the faculty, and especially the department head. “What’s he gonna do, fire me?”

Having spent as much time in front of students as he has, I believe he has heard it all, and can see through most students.  Today, one of the kids was kind of dragging, he asked if she was sick, and she told him she was not feeling well.  Dr. Skeith quickly pointed out that she had a clear case of the “Brown Bottle Flue”.  She protested for about 10 seconds before admitting he was right.  

We have three graduate students in the class. They are all foreign students, from Cossack, I believe; two guys and a girl.  The girl had been absent and upon her return, Dr. Skein had asked her fellow country man, sitting alongside her, “where has your ‘girlfriend’ been”?.  The fellow replied she was not his girlfriend.  The prof turned to the girl and asked why she would not go out with a good looking guy like him. “We are cousins,” she replied. With out a second’s hesitation, I blurted out, “Oh that’s OK, this is Arkansas”.  Realizing what I had said, I prepared for the worst. What happened was a class of kids and the teacher all rolling into a full belly laugh.  The kid behind me tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Good one!”   In that moment, I became part of the gang, no longer the old man in the second row.