monday night study group

Right before finals, I hosted a study group.

It was for my sociology class. Evaluation of Evidence. It's the class Columbia recommends for non-math majors. Which would be me. (I am extremely non-mathy.) Before you register for classes they have you take this placement exam. It's not supposed to be a big deal, but when I was taking the test and making blind guesses and desperate attempts at recalling theorems I'm pretty sure there was some smarty-pants Columbia mucky-muck wearing elbow patches standing behind me pointing and laughing.

So I took Evaluation of Evidence. Which, as far as I'm concerned, ranks as significantly less difficult than rocket science and a bit more challenging than I was anticipating.

Hosting a study group just made sense. It was clear that I had no idea what I was talking about, so why not have some people over who did?

I went to Frank's and picked up five gallons of Diet Coke, two economy size bags of Super Puffed Cheez Doodles, and put in an order for a couple extra large pepperoni pies.

They arrive together: Jordana, Michael, and Remy. Jordana has a tangle of curly brown fizz above ping-pong ball bugged out brown eyes. She's covered in freckles and when she smiles she tilts her head to the side.

Michael is charming, pudgy and balding, with heavy black frames sitting on a hooked nose. He wears bow-ties and sweater vests and talks a lot about his cat named Blanche Devereaux.

Remy is barely five feet tall, all bony edges, with long and straight straw hair and blue eyes that crowd her nose. She hugs her laptop to her chest and her lips attempt to cover her braces.

We crowd in the kitchen and fill our plates, then move to the living room and pull out notebooks. Remy opens her laptop, and begins to beat the tar out of her keyboard.

"I'd like to focus on Weber's Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism" Remy says, pulling a book from her purse.

"We should all write romance novels over the break," Michael says, "and then we can all get together and share them. Like a little writers group or something."

Jordana is giggling at her i-phone. "It's my high school fencing team. They're playing in the finals for like the FIRST TIME EVER."

"I don't know that I want to write a romance novel; all the same, you're quite a visionary." And then Michael and I proceed to debate whether or not Monsoon Wedding is a Bollywood film.

Remy's nose pokes up above her laptop. "I think Weber's use of Ben Franklin as an example of religion and work ethic combining is particularly effective."

"THEY'RE WINNING! MY HIGH SCHOOL FENCING TEAM IS WINNING! I'm texting Brittany."

"Esmerelda's bosom heaved at the sight of Weber's strong and muscled arms."

"Monsoon Wedding is totally not a Bollywood film. There's like no singing at all."

I got a B in the class.