I beg to dream and differ

Time for a fun little pointless entry, since no one commented on the last mondo one. {glares} (Thanks, Aubrey, Jen, and Liz.)

I don't think my feelings about a class have ever shifted so quickly as they did this evening in philosophy. I was a little grumpy, I'll concede, having gotten only three hours of sleep last night, but the class started terribly, getting back an "8.2--very weak" and a "7.0--cite your sources," then not being able to get a seat near an outlet, leaving me with only twenty minutes of battery life. (No, that's a full charge.) As usual, the class was overwhelmingly remniscent of Cory and Tapanga's first philosophy class, where the professor poses the problem of a dog between two equivalent bowls of food, Shawn scoffs, "That's stupid; he'd just go eat," and the professor says, "Ah, you think his hunger would supersede his rational consideration." Honestly. When he explained that a secondary group such as a class can contain intimate primary groups such as study groups and a girl raised her hand to point out that in study groups, she often finds that they do more talking than studying, I let my head sink into my hands. Dr. StPierre started to explain how that face-to-face, nonpurposeful interaction is an hallmark of primary socialization, and I bitterly drifted into sleep for the rest of the hour.

My disposition was much improved by the nap, and I decided to go argue the 7.0. After waiting for the class to disperse, I walked up to his desk and began my artfully arranged harangue. "Sir, I did no research for this assignment," I declared. "The subject is something of an hobby of mine, and the arguments in this piece are the result of study and reflection, not plagiarism." "I wasn't accusing you of plagiarism," he countered, and took the paper in his hands. "Really? You write very well." I desperately wish I could honestly use italics on any word there, but he's a grumpy old man who wouldn't get excited at chocolate milk and pizza. "This part in particular..." He started underlining, and kept going four lines down to the end of the paragraph. "Let me turn this 7.0 into a 9.0 and take it home." "Thank you, sir; enjoy your evening," I nodded, and walked away. "Bri-Braden?" he asked. "All right. I'll just have to remember that your writing sounds like you're failing to cite."

So yeah, I am *amazing*. Apparently I write like a professional sociologist. Perhaps this is the point at which I stop stressing about failing that course. Here's the essay in question, though I'm not actually that proud of it; while the style is very much my own, the content stems largely enough from Dr. Laura Schlessinger's writings that my claim to having done no research, while technically true, was circumstantially tenuous. (Granted, it's been refined by several other perspectives, but such is good research.)

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An excellent example of a status set is that of the father of a traditional family. Granted, nearly everyone in society has multiple complex statuses, but using a traditional model will generally demonstrate more clear-cut role expectations, with less role sharing and accompanying role conflict. Such a status set will likely include husband, father, and breadwinner. Let us consider each in turn.

Traditionally, little is expected of males in their status as husband. Owing to the pursuit-and-conquest mindset of romance, often men feel that their emotional roles have been fulfilled in having “romanced” their mate sufficient to obtain her hand, seen as the finish line, after which they reap the rewards of their investment in intimacy, support, and labor.

Even in their more important role as father, males traditionally have little obligation. They are seen as arbiters, largely, stepping in when routine discipline proves unfuitful to wield stern adjudicative powers. However, it is also their role to serve as leader, primarily by example, though often exercising ultimate authority in important decisions.

It is in their status as breadwinner that most traditional males expect most of themselves; these are the roles that set them apart as unique and valuable, a resource upon which their wives depend. These roles will vary widely, but for a typical desk laborer, may involve such roles as analysis, communication, or persuasion. Other expectations often include looking presentable, working regular hours, and showing deference to superiors.