Reflections on Philosophy

When I was an undergraduate I purposely skipped a philosophy course.  The closest I got was a religious studies class that did cover some of the big picture questions, but somehow reading Martin Luther and Freud was a lot easier than reading Plato and trying to figure out what it all meant.
My youngest son took a class that was very misleadingly entitled Introduction to Ancient Philosophy.  I read everything to him that we cannot find on audiotape, and I try to do all the reading for the class so that if he struggles with it, I can talk with him about it.  I lack the advantage of being in class and hearing what the teacher thinks of the reading, which is a big handicap, but if I read it, I can at least participate in the discussion.  And it turned out that I was indeed right.  Philosophy is not for me.  Even in the beginning, when we were reading the Sophists, who Socrates made mincemeat of, I really did not get it.  The teacher posted her notes for students to read and I found them to be just as dense and incomprehensible as the reading.  I thought that by the time we got to Aristotle my luck would improve because he was a scientist, but no such luck.  I understood an iota more than before.  It was a relief when the semester ended and I did not have to struggle with any more ancient philosophers.  I was hospitalized on a number of occasions throughout the semester and nurses would come in and see me reading Plato and think that I was very intellectual.  They did not know that I was reading the same book over and over, trying to gain more meaning with repeated reading, to no avail.  I remain as in the dark about the ancient Greek philosophers as I was before the class started.