Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Bee From Brooklyn Sees the Misery Up Close.
The professor is a graduate student who is not a native speaker of English; the room is a furnace without air conditioning. Most of the students sit in their seats, fiddling with their smart phones or staring cow-eyed at the board. I'm sure the students were bad back when I was an undergrad, but I never remembered it being as horrific as it was today.
The poor professor was doing his best in these terrible conditions to coax answers to problems from the class. One student, confused about the meaning of a word that he used, raised his hand and asked for clarification. Before the professor could answer, another student who hadn't said a word all day rolled her eyes at the student and suddenly snapped, 'This is a core Math course, not a tea-partying Philosophy class!" She proceeded to rest her head on the desk for about twenty minutes before storming out of the room a half hour before the class ended. To his credit, the professor kept his cool and answered the question clearly.
I was on the fence about switching to Hamster Therapy as my dream has always been to be a college professor. However, now that I get to see what undergraduates are really like beyond upper division coursework (Hamsterology courses typically don't count as general education requirements) and ESL classes, I'm very glad that I'm not signing on to deal with these f-bombing flakes for the rest of my life.
To all the brave souls in the trenches of Higher Ed, I salute you!