I'm Not a Nice Person

In all the stresses and vexations of forthcoming exams and Christmas, I completely forgot about one of the happier moments of the semester's end: class reviews. This is the time when students offer their opinions of the classes they've taken while being protected by blessed anonymity. Normally I try and be honest with these things while simultaneously doing my best to protect my teacher. At a school where there is no such thing as tenure, our professors' footholds are uncertain at best, so I try to be as complimentary as possible so as to offer them a little job security. Since most of my professors are absolutely and completely marvelous, this really hasn't been much of a problem up til now. I repeat, up til now.

Today was the day that I reviewed Effie's performance. 

I'm going to hell. It was fun, but I'm mostly definitely doomed to perdition.

Let me clarify something here before you read anything further. I am not normally a malicious person. I hate confrontation and tension of all kinds. So this is not a good example of my usual behavior. This was an exception to the rule. 

Yes, I did take fiendish delight in totally burning everything about this class that I possibly could. I've been polite and prepared and studious all semester, but seriously, folks, can you expect me to allow such ignorance to continue when I could have said something about it? I mean, how harmful is it to all those poor freshmen that come in utterly bewildered and are handed a complete load of bull to swallow? I remember what I was like as a freshman -- I had absolutely no discernment at all. Sub-par teachers should not, and must not, be tolerated when the quality of education is at stake. 

Was I ruder than necessary? Absolutely! Should I have been? Probably not, although it was unbelievably fun to act that way for a change. There is a time for kindness, and a time to hand someone their butt. This was one of those latter times.

Anyway, to continue on with the story. There are a series of questions asked on these reviews to which you are supposed to circle one of the following answers: strongly disagree, disagree, neutral, agree, strongly agree. Normally I just dart down the page answering agree -- it was very different this time.

"Did the professor offer the material at a pace conducive to learning?" -- strongly disagree.

"Was the class atmosphere enjoyable?" -- strongly disagree.

"Did the teacher know the material?" -- strongly disagree.

"Did you feel free that you had ample opportunity to ask questions?" -- strongly disagree.

"Did the teacher respond to you in a timely manner?" -- strongly disagree.

"Did the professor present the material advertised in the catalogue?" -- agree. (I told you I tried to be honest on these things. She did present the advertised material, just not in a way previously known to mankind. She probably got her teaching methods from observing the habits of the Chacma Baboon.)

And so on and so forth. The feeling of glee in the room was contagious as all the students answered the questions in a similar fashion to my own. Finally, I reached the last portion of the review, where students could write out their opinions in response to questions. The first one was something to the effect of: "What was the most beneficial part of this class for you?" 

My answer: "The satire that I was able to perfect -- this class gave me a wealth of material to use. It was most helpful."

Question: "What did you feel was wrong with this class?"

My answer: "Uh, everything? The material was presented in PowerPoint slides that were flipped through so fast that no one could take proper notes. Some students resorted to taking pictures of the screen with their cell phones out of sheer desperation. Professor Jones expected everyone to magically remember everything she said in her lectures, giving absolutely no consideration to those of us that are visual learners. Her classroom was loud and rude, and there were open altercations between students as well as racial tensions. It would also help if she would hand her tests back instead of just showing us the grades -- that way we could study more effectively and thus improve our grades. The homework was a joke, the reading material badly chosen, and the facts incorrect. I would say more, but I'm running out of room."

Question: "What would you change about this class?"

My answer: "There are no words. No, wait, wait, I found some! First of all, I would find a teacher that actually knew the subject and could make the material come alive, rather than just dryly reading off of PowerPoint slides that are misspelled and erroneous in content. How about finding a textbook that isn't written from a snide-hate-all-Christians-indiscriminately perspective? Better yet, how about hiring a teacher that didn't find her degree hanging on a bathroom wall? This class was utterly abysmal, and while I know that I sound horrible right now, I won't apologize for it. I actually care about this institution. I do not want to see the quality of Crichton's education suffer. Therefore, I will protest about every single aspect of this class in the hope that some changes for the better will be made." 

I do hope changes for the better will be made. That's for everyone's ultimate good.

But in the meantime, I have to admit, I do feel a whole lot better!

It's a darn good thing I'm saved by grace, though, rather than works...