For those of you currently in school, you know the type…these are the ones I must contend with daily and it makes my eye twitch. A sort of rant, but too lame for the pit. So, ladies and gentlemen, these are the specimens I get to endure:
I present to you, that kid. There are a few of these specimens walking around here, so let me introduce the special ones to you that make my life in the classroom not so much fun:
Resident “that kid” of my team (sheduling thing, my classes are all taken with the same people…no point in explaining it beyond that really):
Not content to just sit back and hide from the professor when he has not done the reading for discussion section, this particular individual must demonstrate any and all bits of knowledge he has gathered over the course of the semester in a pathetic attempt to overcompensate for his lack of knowledge about the subject at hand (most likely due to the fact that his previous evening was spent attending some frat party with one of those walking stereotype dumb “ho’s” who actually get dressed up for a 9 am lecture and would be just as annoying as that kid if they talked in class at all - that is about anything related to the subject matter. Furtive cell phone conversations to their “girlies” about when they are going to the club be damned.) Now if this were a review session and not an actual discussion, his questions and comments would be halfway acceptable. However, since that kid does not apply himself at all, he is not to be seen at a review session and we all must suffer his brainless remarks during class. I am not amused that I am essentially paying disgusting amounts of tuition to listen to some mouth-breathing, idiotic, pathetic excuse for a scholar spout off anything that pops into his head for 50 minutes. I have every intention of bringing this fact to his attention, but I am not capable of doing it in a nice way, and it will most likely dissolve into a flat-out rant…no matter how much this would amuse my classmates and I, it would be so completely antithetical to the point I would be trying to make that I think I would choke on the irony alone. So, kid, do us all a favor and please, just stay in bed next class. We don’t need you to take up precious learning opportunities by asking the professor, “Wait, so like, Stalin was power-hungry?” :smack: after every sentence the professor is able to spit out between your vapid “observations.” Pardon the 6th-grade expression, but FUCKING DUH!!!
That kid in my Literature Seminar:
This is a special case, but almost more annoying. A very bright and insightful individual who is clearly dedicated to the subject of English literature, this particular specimen is no stranger to the material at hand. Rather, that kid has read and re-read the material and could easily recite it in his sleep. He is obviously used to being the smartest kid in the room, and most likely was severely alienated in high school because of it. Put a suede-patched tweed jacket and a pair of bifocals on him and he could easily be a professor himself.
“So why is he that kid?” you ask.
BECAUSE HE WONT SHUT THE HELL UP. Oh my God, even the Professor rolls his eyes at that kid. Every single tiny detail of every single sentence of everything we read is met by a five-minute long treatise or comparison to either A) Shakespeare or B) Whatever esoteric and completely useless text he feels like comparing it to. He raises his hand during even the slightest pauses and a pained expression will remain on his face until he is able to blurt out whatever it is that has crossed his mind (despite whether or not the professor grants him permission to speak). It’s so bad that he will go so far as to talk over the professor. Again I’m not paying money to listen to him. A nice girl who sometimes sits next to me feels the same way about that kid as I do (and frankly, it’s so bad that everyone in the class will politely giggle when we complain about him before he arrives at the start of every class (mature, I know…), and once said that he is obviously smart, but he only needs to share about 5% of his observations. How very true. We don’t care about what so-and-so thought about it or what translation says what, or what Dante ate for breakfast before he wrote it. Christ.
That kid in lab:
Waste of space. Lips move when he reads. That kid wears popped collars with cargo shorts and mirrored aviators and flip-flops. He spends most of the time talking about random shit that has nothing to with the class (usually about when he is going to get drunk that night or what “bitch” he is going to “bone”). Complains when the class actually (gasp) requires effort beyond simply reading the lab assignment and (double gasp) runs the full two hours. Listen, dickwad, there are people in this country who would think nothing of giving up a limb to go to a university like this and all you do is piss and moan. My family essentially came from nothing and my parents sacrificed so much so that I could have chances they never dreamed of growing up and here you are, bitching about being in class. The occasional, “I don’t feel like going to class,” is one thing, but you, sir, need to either A. Grow up or B. Drop out and give your spot to someone who would actually appreciate it.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRG.
Ok, I feel better.