June 18, 2009

Industrialization, Globalization, and Comical Hats

Okay fellow students, it’s summer, spring semester grades have been posted, and it’s time to start randomly ranting about stupid school things that can’t be escaped.

You know what I’m talking about. Each semester you swear it’ll be different, and yet you find yourself sitting in class wondering if maybe if you thought just a little harder you could wish yourself through time to graduation.

Things like:

That one person who, on the first day of class, feels the need to break the silence. Usually it’s the teacher, saying something along the lines of “Boy, you all are a quiet bunch.”

Dude, we’re only quiet because we’re still trying to analyze to what degree of douche bag we can classify you. And lord forbid he/she decides to follow it up with some kind of joke (“Can you promise you’ll be this way all semester, har har har?”) and you wonder if this person has ever been funny once in their entire life.

The way teachers try to accept a (wrong) answer and still try to prompt the right one. You know exactly what I’m talking about. It can be any sort of abstract question that really has no answer, but the teacher is trying to get her point across anyway.

TEACHER: “What was the second biggest issue, after slavery, that led to the Civil War?”

STUDENT #1: “Industrialization?”

(Eight times out of ten this will be the correct answer to any humanities question brought up in college. The other times? “Globalization” and a tie between “diversity” and “social stratification.”)

TEACHER: “Yes, and…?”

TEACHER’S HIDDEN MEANING: “You are the stupidest human being to walk on this planet. I’d tell you to go kill yourself but I already know you’d mess that up too.”

STUDENT #2: “… The Boston Tea Party?”

TEACHER: “Actually, that was the American Revolution but sort of correct because it has to do with…?”

(Dead silence. It’s now time for the teacher to try to encourage answers by simply rephrasing the question to make it sound easier:)

TEACHER: “Come on, the North had differing opinions about what with the South other than slavery?”

STUDENT #3: “…President Lincoln?”

TEACHER: “Close…”

HIDDEN MEANING: “Not close at all, Future Janitor.”

TEACHER: “Anyone else?”

HIDDEN MEANING: “Anyone else willing to contribute to the hopelessness I feel toward this generation?”

STUDENT #4: “… cotton?”

TEACHER: “What?”

STUDENT #4: “No, seriously, is it cotton? It’s cotton, isn’t it?”

TEACHER’S MIND: “Whatever, just take the next answer and twist it to make it seem correct.”

THE DUDE IN THE BACK WHO JUST WOKE UP: “What page are we on?”

TEACHER: “Right! The ‘page’ of State’s Rights! Let’s take a break, shall we?”

Stupid let’s introduce ourselves games that you, even back when you were a six year old, would be too proud to participate in. Okay, so I understand that learning is a better experience if the whole class knew each other’s names and were comfortable enough to engage in heated debates or stupid tangential discussions that waste everybody’s time.

But the onslaught of names and majors and interesting facts about oneself really doesn’t process, especially on that first day when you’re dreading how many hundred dollar textbooks are required.

But if you must do this, please don’t try to make it any more fun, i.e. say an animal that has the same beginning sound of your first name. Why? Because my name’s Nicole, and over the course of my life I have only found two animals that fit these criteria: gnat and narwhal, none of which, I have determined, are anywhere near the vicinity of cool.

The “golden formula” that must be said at least once a day on every college campus in order for them to continue getting funding. You will hear this, guaranteed, at least twice in your college career. This is academic gold. All you have to do is follow this simple formula:

“[Any conjugation of the infinitive “to juxtapose”] [noun] with [some other noun that is totally unrelated to the first noun.]”

Some examples:

--“… to say the least. We must juxtapose Bach’s baroque style with the final shooting scene in ‘Scarface….’”

--“…In this scene, you must juxtapose the pain of breaking up with the simplicity of the yellow umbrella…”

--“…blah blah. It’s a complete juxtaposition of amazing music with something totally unrelated, like the Jonas brothers!”

See? Try it in your next class discussion (bonus points if you throw the word “industrialization” in there) and watch as your teacher helplessly enjoys ruining a good pair of underwear. I just helped you graduate college. You’re welcome.

Syllabi that make you regret signing up for class. That goes double for teachers who email their syllabi days or even weeks before class even starts.

This little peeve has a corollary: When teachers make you read the syllabus out loud because they really have no other plans for the first day. This is awkward enough when you think the teacher seems fine, the class is a pretty good size, but then you’re reading the syllabus out loud to the entire class and it gets… foreboding, especially near the end:

“You are adults now, and you must respect my class and treat it like you would a World War II disabled veteran whose bones are made out of thinly cut balsa wood. You are paying for my time, and this is the pinnacle of your educational career. Do not ruin it for yourself, your classmates, or especially for me.

This syllabus is a contract between you (hereinafter ‘The Dooméd’) and your teacher (hereinafter ‘Your Master’) and all correspondences between hitherto mentioned parties must be typed, postdated, notarized by a proper notary with a British accent, written in iambic pentameter, and signed using your less dominant hand before being hand delivered by a properly trained spider monkey wearing a comical hat.”

The syllabus is not that important. It’s not even really a contract. How many times have you stood up in class and cited the syllabus in a triumphant moment that would make Atticus Finch weep with shame? You haven’t. The only time you mentioned the word “syllabus” out loud in class again is when you’re asking an extra copy because you put yours in a special place where you just knew you wouldn’t forget it.

That’s just the beginning, readers. Some more can include:

--The one douche in class who just loves to hear himself talk.

--The awkward “you are adults now” lecture given by a 25 year old professor fresh out of grad school.

--The suspiciously young girl who one day mentions her husband and three children.

--That ten-second pause after a teacher asks a question before anyone gets up the courage to answer.

--The person who manages to go through all the effort to get to class, but then just sleeps through the entire thing.

--That one person who loves Shakespeare so much he can quote him and would probably dig up the old guy and have his way with the corpse if he could just get up enough money for the ticket overseas.

--People who complain about the stereotypes of college a lot. Freakin’ losers.

Can you think of anymore? Go ahead and shoot me some of your ideas. Both about college stereotypes and about how to obtain and subsequently train a spider monkey.