I have previously stated that my history professor knows what he's talking about. At this point I would like to retract that statement, make an amendment, and reissue it:

My history professor doesn't know what he's talking about.

He is merely reading the book out loud. Ask him a question, he stares at you, then at the book; he flips a few pages, looks hurt when the information you're requesting fails to magically appear, then finally, after the silence has grown uncomfortable, says that what you want to know will not be appearing on the quiz and moves on.

I just can't wait until we start to crabwalk our painful way into the Revolutionary War. I plan on asking many questions that are not covered by the text. I am, in fact, reading the entire book for the specific purpose of devising questions whose answers cannot be found within its pages. Perhaps this is his sneaky sneaky way of ensuring that the text gets read, but I highly doubt it.

It does not help that the text is boring as hell. How on earth can you make the Revolutionary War boring, I hear you ask? This book somehow manages it.

It's infuriating.

In reaction to this terrible class, this waste of money and time and effort, I have decided to learn about early American history up-to-the-Restoration all on my own. I have a rather frightening array of resources available in the form of other professors, the bookstore employees who know about this sort of thing, the library and my Revolutionary-War-obsessed genius of a husband, I'm paying the money and showing up here every day, I see no reason why I shouldn't learn what I've signed up to learn. The dullness and apathy of the teacher of this class has had the queer effect of raising up my stubborn streak and poking it with electric prods. My stubborn streak has decided upon the path of education.

And the asking of many questions, none of which can be answered by this would-be-infinitely-better-used-as-toilet-paper book.