(Dis?) Orienting at Duke and the Beast called Inadequate

The week of (dis) orientation was just that. Perhaps if I had done some excavating I would have been more prepared for my beginning at Duke Divinity School. The following were my observations and assumptions gone wrong.
1) The MTS program at Duke is very small. There are approx. 120 (or so) incoming MDIV students and 20 incoming MTS students. This means that in all of Duke Divinity School there are only 40 MTS students! Hence, nearly the whole time we were addressed as a student body, we were addressed as MDIV students. Most of the time the distinction wasn't critical (though I was a little confused a momentarily panicky when they called us the class of 2013--my program's only two years long and their's is three!).

2) The MDIV students (nearly everyone) are "on track for ordination". These students are gearing up for life in the church and serving it in some capacity. Needless to say, I didn't feel that I had much in common with the majority of my peers.

3) Once you are East of, say, New Mexico, you will be asked what denomination you belong to in the same breath as you are asked your name. Within days, you'll be saying, "I'm John. I'm Baptist." "I'm Presbyterian. I'm Mary." "I'm Catholic Julie." Just to clarify, this doesn't happen on the West Coast. No one cares, it has no relevance to us for the most part. We're all on the same team, so to speak. So I have to say, it was rather odd to me that in a Divinity School I was constantly accosted to provide my denomination. I don't identify with one over another. At least not at this point. I interpreted these questions as irrelevant as asking me if my mother's hair is brown or black. Uhm, it's brown, why? Is it so necessary to divide us all the way down into our own little camps and cliques? Is this how people find their friends?

I finally just asked a fellow student, "Why do people keep asking me what denomination I am? Why does it matter?" His answer was two-fold. a) Most of the students are on an ordination track and need to know or quickly figure out what denomination they will pursue ordination with. And b) Once east of New Mexico, everyone is "christian". It is the culture and expectation to be so. The only way of figuring out where someone fits into the tapestry that is christianity is to ask them what denomination they are. Then it can be ascertained if they are ... truly Christian I guess? So, we're trying to figure out if you're "in" or not. ... It's all still sinking in for me. Please excuse the cynicism if it's uncalled for. If not, please embrace it.

4) Once out of school and removed from  an environment in which you are mentally challenged and forced to learn aurally, your brain will rapidly deteriorate and forget how to function in these environments. My first class at Duke was 2.5 hours long. After some introductions, the professor stood up to lecture...and lecture....and lecture. It was amazing     and very     v e r y     long. After about, eh 30 minutes, my brain turned off. I watched in horror as this brilliant professor was reduced, in my mind, to the teacher in Charlie Brown. Waa wa waaa waa. I knew he was speaking English, but not even the structure of the words he was using were forming sentences for me. Even more horrifying was the furiously firing machine-gun fingers flying and burning through the keys all around me as the students scrambled to encapsulate the brilliancy before them. I'm sure we all failed to some extent. I'm sure I failed more than anyone. To say I was overwhelmed would belittle the situation. I think I practiced lamaze at one point, but the only baby I birthed was Ineptitude and his twin Inadequacy. I always wanted twins!

Well, the first week of class is over, and I am still here, still breathing lamaze, but still here. I think I read for 10 hours straight yesterday. I feel my brain beginning to have pins and needles. Ah the pain of waking up. I did find myself remembering through the week the words that were spoken to us over and over again in orientation, "You belong here. It's no accident that you are here." So I've dumped my twins into the compost bin (they have one in the Refectory cafe!) and decided to trust that the admissions committee must have known what they were doing admitting me to Duke.

(I wrote what I think to be an interesting paper on poverty as an entrance requirement. I'll post it up soon?)