This afternoon, I took the final exam for a genuinely lousy class. Think of the intellectual stimulation of standing in line at the BMV (that’s Bureau of Motor Vehicles to those of you outside the midwestern US) combined with the kind of physical labor Mao used to reeducate dissidents. That was more or less how it was, except that I haven’t described the complete irrationality of a bunch of what we were supposed to learn and the true obnoxiousness of the exams on which we were supposed to display that we had, in fact, learned it.
But now, it’s all over. I might have a C, but I don’t care. As long as I don’t go on academic probation and lose my teaching eligibility, it’s all OK. La, la, la, la, laaaaa…Woo-hoo!!
I finished my class that was like that last Wednesday, and stopped by the department yesterday to find the final project graded. From the grades on that, it looks like I got an A in that class. But I didn’t learn anything, not really.
Oh, and jesleigh, it’s a “t” - I finally managed to remember it when I realized that stuff says “Congrats”, not “Congrads”. But I did it all the time - and I still have to think about the spelling most of the time.
Well, this wasn’t the worst class I’ve ever had. But it ranked right up there. (Or maybe I should say, “right down there.”) The worst class I ever took was a class in molecular immunology. The lectures were so bad, the texts were so badly written, and the labs were so disorganized that I think I knew more about molecular immunology before I took the course than after I got out.
And congratulations to everyone who managed to get through finals for yet another term. Joy to the world…classes are OVER!!
I’ve only had a class that bad once before. I had exactly two comments in the write-in section: “Don’t quit your night job.” and “Nice moustache.” This was after I’d given that bastard a one in every portion of the ratings section. God, I f’ing hated that class.
Well, I didn’t use profanity in the eval for my worst class this semester - but I really feel like they were the worst ratings I’d ever given someone. (There was the guy when I was an undergrad, but I don’t think his were as consistently bad as the ones I gave to this woman).
I tried to be fair about it, but the average rating on the eval I did was probably “poor”.
Weightlifting? Oh, heck no–that would have been a lot less strenuous and much more interesting. Not to mention that by now I’d have killer muscles (or, rather, muscles that were more killer than what I have already. Truly lethal muscles, I suppose.)
My class was a class in the techniques and theory of biodiversity conservation. You’d think something like that would be thought-provoking, wouldn’t you? I don’t think the subject itself was lousy; it stinks that the class experience was such a source of irritation, frustration, and exhaustion.
I had a similar, surreal experience in my sculpting class, of all places. You’d think the Fine Arts would be a place of expression and freedom, but noooooo!!! This little man had a lot of control and overcompensation to inflict upon his students. A raving conservative who acted like a dictator. Verrrry un-nice, and no encouragement, help, or even critical evaluation. Just mean.
If ever I had a professor that needed to get laid, (NOT BY ME!!) this guy is about 30 years past that mark. Or else he’s just plain cruel and mean. And I paid full price for that kind of shabby instruction. Sheesh.
Here’s another for RateMyProfessors.com. The ONE I didn’t check out turned out to be the worst, the others were as great as their ratings said. But make sure you fill out YOUR ratings at the end of the semester, so everyone knows what’s up.
