I was not disheartened.I was not disheartened. My faith in God strong, he chose to bless me again, this time in a Protestant form. Don Joy opted to take over as my programming partner on the first assignment. He was a graduate student, the man who taught me my first programming class and, before returning to school, a Methodist minister. It was not that strange of a combination if you considered that after having three children, Don realized that he could be a minister with no money or leave God's service and be able to send his children to college. Hence, Don came to grad school, for blessed are those who walk in the way of the computer engineer. But I was not David, chosen to slay the Philistine giant, CS 502. I was not Noah whose raw faith would allow me to weather the storm and save a subset of all living creatures. No, I was Job, the one God chose to test. Three weeks into the semester, Don decided not to take the class. Poland, little Poland. Home of my ancestors. Conquered and divided in the fifteenth century by the combined might of Prussia, Russia and Lithuania. Poland, born again after ``The War to End All Wars.'' Poland, who stood alone as Germany invaded from the west and the Soviet Union from the east. Gallant cavaliers whose lances charged against Hitler's tanks. I was Poland: heroic, noble and, at times, just plain stupid. What the hell's a horse, rider and lance supposed to do against a tank? Every other student in CS 502 had a programming partner for the first assignment. I stood alone against Bob Graham, Nazi, Marquis de Sade and dining commons chef. God did grant his prodigal small comforts. I maintained a computer room's printers and hence had a key. At 17:00 hours each day by my military time watch, the room closed to the public and I began my pilgrimage of redemption. I'd sit at a highly coveted graphics terminal and begin composing my coding symphony. At 19:00 hours each day, there was a knock at the door. It was my girlfriend, Jennifer. The scenario repeated itself daily until the assignment was due. ``I brought you dinner,'' she said, as she pulled out fruit and sandwiches wrapped in napkins, all commandeered from the dining commons. ``Grrr,'' was my response, because I was no longer fully human. Instead, I was a CS 502 barbarian warrior and I ate with a corresponding level of etiquette. |