Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,-- That spear-shaking Dude of Avon
The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;
But then begins a journey in my head,
To work my mind, when body's work's expired.
Wouldn't it be nice if I didn't have to defend the honor of my Alma Mater, battling to get Hoth CC to recognize her faculty's competence in teaching English, Speech, and Government?
Wouldn't it be nice if I didn't need to take three years (not including the above-mentioned classes, and math, and computer literacy) to get a paralegal certificate? Maybe something that would take a year? Or -- dare I say it? -- even less?
Wouldn't it be nice if I didn't have to be in classes with students who spend their energy arguing about page count and font size for assignments rather than on learning?
Wouldn't it be nice if a Major University, home of an Impressive Law School, would offer a short, to-the-point, skills-based paralegal program that would carry the imprint of said University, rather than a community college?
Wouldn't it be nice if --
An elbow jabs me in the ribs, and I hear Spousie's voice say, "Hey! Wake up!"
"The presentation is over. You fell asleep." That's my friend Cagney.
"If you're planning to sign up for MU's paralegal program, you're not making a good first impression!" adds Lacey, Cagney's roommate.
"It wasn't a dream?"
"Starbucks," says a trio of voices, and I'm hauled to my feet and pointed toward the door.
Whoa. This could change everything...