So, I started another one of my law classes on Monday. The one I have on Thursday is wonderful. The teacher is easy, no homework, but a lot of participation and he's really funny AND interesting. All of the instructors for this program are practicing attorneys, so they have a life outside of teaching. Well, this guy was also a cop in a not-so-nice town up the road a piece. He put himself through law school with this profession. Anyway, I'm not here to talk about him.
I'm here to talk about the instructor I have on Mondays. And I can't quite think of a word, the only thing that keeps coming to mind is a vision; a vision of me gouging out my carotid with a 5-in-1. Maybe hang myself with my intestines, or poke my eyes out with a #2 pencil, who knows? What I do know, is that it was mind numbing. A three hour class that seemed like a week. And a shitload of homework every single week! Plus other assignments on top of that. There's nothing like a fucking old man with a hard on for his mother to curb the learning experience. Don't get me wrong, he seems like a nice guy and all, but all he did was talk about himself AND THEN he wanted to go around the room and have us each tell him about ourselves!
This is when I seriously started wondering if I had mistakenly taken some acid before I left my house. I swear, it was like a flashback to high school. You remember; the good ol' days. I wore my jean jacket like a badge and jeans so tight that I had to lay on the bed and zipper them with a hanger, not to mention the long, layered, feathered hair and dark black eyeliner caked around my eyes. I would stand up at my desk in the middle of class, light up a Marlboro, flick the teacher off and walk toward the door, but not before saying "Fuck you AND your class."
What?! Are you fucking kidding me? Are we in 3rd grade? And not just, Hi I'm so-and-so, I'm married with two kids... He wanted to know what our favorite tv shows are, what kind of music we listen to, what we do for fun and on and on.
It started to creep me out a bit, like he was looking for a victim, or a date, or both. He waited two hours to give us our first break and I was ready to scream. I regressed in this class; back to my high school days. I got up to go smoke, I took out my phone, (which I never do) (EVER) and I started text messaging a friend of mine in the class. Stupid, smart ass comments that I won't get into here, but none the less I was doing it. We were giggling silently as we messaged each other back and forth. Good thing they did away with paper. We never would have gotten away with passing notes back and forth. Oh, and I had to get up to go to the bathroom twice, let's face it, I am getting a little older and I drank a pot of coffee before I got there.
Finally we got a 15 minute break and when it was time to go back in we ALL kind of lingered in the hallway and around the door because we were just dreading going back in there. His comment to us was something about, "For those of you who arrived back here late, and I don't know why, ummm, we started talking about legal research." Well fuck! We have 16 weeks to do that. That's why were here. Oh no! We're screwed because we missed three minutes.
Whatever. I'm getting myself all worked up again over here. Fucker. I can't stand teachers like that. I mean, we're mostly women in out late twenties, thirties and forties in this class, there's no need to treat us like 18 year olds. I don't learn well under stress. Yes, I work awesome under pressure, as a matter of fact it's how I work best, but to learn something completely foreign to me? I need a relaxed environment, not some asshole yap, yap, yappin about his mother and how he's an only child so he has to take care of her and blah blah blah.
I'm here to talk about the instructor I have on Mondays. And I can't quite think of a word, the only thing that keeps coming to mind is a vision; a vision of me gouging out my carotid with a 5-in-1. Maybe hang myself with my intestines, or poke my eyes out with a #2 pencil, who knows? What I do know, is that it was mind numbing. A three hour class that seemed like a week. And a shitload of homework every single week! Plus other assignments on top of that. There's nothing like a fucking old man with a hard on for his mother to curb the learning experience. Don't get me wrong, he seems like a nice guy and all, but all he did was talk about himself AND THEN he wanted to go around the room and have us each tell him about ourselves!
This is when I seriously started wondering if I had mistakenly taken some acid before I left my house. I swear, it was like a flashback to high school. You remember; the good ol' days. I wore my jean jacket like a badge and jeans so tight that I had to lay on the bed and zipper them with a hanger, not to mention the long, layered, feathered hair and dark black eyeliner caked around my eyes. I would stand up at my desk in the middle of class, light up a Marlboro, flick the teacher off and walk toward the door, but not before saying "Fuck you AND your class."
What?! Are you fucking kidding me? Are we in 3rd grade? And not just, Hi I'm so-and-so, I'm married with two kids... He wanted to know what our favorite tv shows are, what kind of music we listen to, what we do for fun and on and on.
It started to creep me out a bit, like he was looking for a victim, or a date, or both. He waited two hours to give us our first break and I was ready to scream. I regressed in this class; back to my high school days. I got up to go smoke, I took out my phone, (which I never do) (EVER) and I started text messaging a friend of mine in the class. Stupid, smart ass comments that I won't get into here, but none the less I was doing it. We were giggling silently as we messaged each other back and forth. Good thing they did away with paper. We never would have gotten away with passing notes back and forth. Oh, and I had to get up to go to the bathroom twice, let's face it, I am getting a little older and I drank a pot of coffee before I got there.
Finally we got a 15 minute break and when it was time to go back in we ALL kind of lingered in the hallway and around the door because we were just dreading going back in there. His comment to us was something about, "For those of you who arrived back here late, and I don't know why, ummm, we started talking about legal research." Well fuck! We have 16 weeks to do that. That's why were here. Oh no! We're screwed because we missed three minutes.
Whatever. I'm getting myself all worked up again over here. Fucker. I can't stand teachers like that. I mean, we're mostly women in out late twenties, thirties and forties in this class, there's no need to treat us like 18 year olds. I don't learn well under stress. Yes, I work awesome under pressure, as a matter of fact it's how I work best, but to learn something completely foreign to me? I need a relaxed environment, not some asshole yap, yap, yappin about his mother and how he's an only child so he has to take care of her and blah blah blah.
No comments:
Post a Comment