(no subject)

[quislibet]

Without fail, it seems, any length of time at all I spend using the dialup connection from home will result in several breaks in connection, sometimes before I've even managed to read a single e-mail message. But if I go away and forget to disconnect on purpose, the connection will stay up for however long.

A stressful hour just now: my very first time driving a car, other than a total of an hour or so of practice in a parking lot over two nights two weeks ago, involved my driving from Peabody to Lynn (to pick up the next student) and then back to Salem. My next lesson should be a two-hour one so that there's time to do more than drive between students' houses all over the North Shore -- like go over how things in the car work.

And I left my glasses in the instruction car, and I don't anticipate being able to recover them for a day or two.

Blah.

Comments

[tk7602.livejournal.com]

what is your opinion on driver's eduacation as an adult? i found that i couldn't sit through the classes. i enrolled at the tender young age of 23. my classmates were mostly around 16. during the 'horrid traffic accidents' videos, they were, as one would expect from 16 year olds, laughing and joking about the bodies scattered about the road.

i ended up taking just the road portion and then the road test, and never getting the driving school discount on my insurance.

i also ended up in a verbal spat with my driving instructor after he yelled at me about something. i got... well... i guess snobby would be the word, and informed him that i was a systems adminitrator for a department of defense research group, and that i didn't need to be talked down to by a driving instructor in waltham. this same instructor regularly brought his students close to tears, so i think i got a bit of pleasure out of embarassing him in front of another student.

but i digress...

[quislibet.livejournal.com]

It was rather tedious to get through the classroom portion. As you say, all 16-year-olds for the most part. The teacher was all right, if ineffective at maintaining discipline, and a trio of boys in particular kept up a running shouted commentary for the entire thirty hours of the class (mercifully broken up over three weeks). I was pleased to see it be over.

It was a morning class, at least, so I wasn't fully awake for it, which may have helped.

Yesterday's drive, apart from the stress of being unprepared for driving in real traffic at reasonably high speeds, went as well as could be expected, and the instructor -- a Slavic guy named Vlad (or Vee-LOHD in the strange pronunciation of Linda the classroom teacher) -- was patient but competent; if I did something stupid he would compensate and point out calmly what I should do or not do the next time.

He was also rather good at handling an irate parent; the girl we picked up in Lynn was renting the school car to take her road test. She, however, had put her learner's permit through the wash, and had been told on several occasions by Vlad that she needed a new one before her road test, but she figured she would just get a new one the day of. This made it even more unlikely that she would be able to complete the road test and paperwork and get a ride home all in the hour her dad had paid for (and Vlad had another student in the immediately following hour, so there was no "wiggle room"). So Vlad told her she'd probably have to go back another time to do the paperwork. She went inside to get the necessary checks written.

Her dad came out with her and let Vlad know in no uncertain terms that it was quite unacceptable to him that Vlad should not wait around for as long as it took his daughter to do everything she needed to do in Beverly.

"What about him?" said Angry Dad, gesturing at me as I sat in the driver's seat (sitting, I should add, between Angry Dad and Vlad, as A.D. had for some reason chosen to go to the driver's window, forcing me to fumble at the power window controls). "Don't you have to wait while he takes a test?"

(No, sir, I'm not ready for a test. This is my first time ever in real traffic and I'll be driving your daughter as far as Salem.)

"No," I said, my only contribution to the conversation.

"No, he's not taking the test," said Vlad.

"Well, you tell Rich [the owner of the driving school] that I'm not happy."

(No doubt Angry Dad only knew Rich's name from the answering machine or something.)

"You may call him yourself," said Vlad patiently.

"Oh, I will."

Bah.