*DISLCAIMER* I do categorize people a little bit here for the sake of the story, I'm sorry and please don't be offended, categorizing people is terrible, and inaccurate, and I really am only using it to make a point.
I have a favourite professor. When I have a class with this woman, I feel satisfied that the zillion dollars I'm pouring into my education is actually finding it's way into my education. She is brilliant, insightful, caring, knowledgeable and just plain interesting. My absolute favourite part of this woman is that she's loud. Generally, even if I'm at the back of the lecture hall she reads the room and speaks at the best possible volume, as all professors should, and few actually do.
Today, in her class, I had a rather frustrated experience.
I'm not sure what it is about Laurier Brantford, but for a town with a meth problem and an absurdly high teen pregnancy rate, we attract a LOT of uhm.. privileged students. That was the kindest way I could think to put it.
Most of the time, the girls with their gigantic Micheal Kors bags and stupidly high hair don't bother me, unless they get too close, because somehow even if they brush past me I still end up with makeup on my sleeve... Truthfully, I have no quams about these girls. They normally just live their lives, sit quietly in class with their Macbooks and don't bother anybody.
It's fairly obvious that the boys with their Supreme backpacks and absurdly "slim" pants usually believe themselves to be top dog, which is fine, that's your prerogative, until of course the privilege is met with a bit of an entitlement complex - also fairly easy to spot. These would be the boys that speak louder than anyone else in the room, use the word "yo" to introduce every mediocre thought and in a classroom with a 200 person capacity and a 180 person class, they throw their backpack on the seat beside them. Somehow they all do that middle child thing too where they constantly feel the need to assert themselves in public settings, particularly when it comes to their masculinity. If you ever want a really solid laugh, as I received today, plant one of these such men into a lecture on feminism. *Hint, this is where the story starts*
Notice that this category is getting smaller and smaller...
First years, God love em, seem to understand at a rate of like 80% that in University, not only do you get out what you put in, but because we learn in a lecture simultaneously, I also get out what you put in. If you're distracting, I'm distracted, and vice versa. There is a DIRECT co-relation between the 20% that hasn't quite figured this out yet, and the boys I've described above.
Now.
Mix together in a large feminism lecture two parts overcompensating, entitled offspring of the income inequality crisis with one part my favourite professor.
When the mixture has settled, add three young women eager to acquire the knowledge we have worked since the age of fifteen to afford.
Did I forget that you're supposed to pre-bake the first ingredient until their eyes are red and they smell like burnt grass?
Clearly, and I'm not kidding, car rims were far more interesting to these young men beside me than anything that our professor could have possibly been saying, which is why they were so zealous about ignoring her, and all of the dirty looks coming from their fellow students.
I took a page and a half of notes before I gave up and wrote my name 14 times. My friends didn't get much farther. By the time the lecture was over, I was so ridiculously fed up with these boys that I couldn't just let it go. I know, right? That doesn't sound like me at all...
"Sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but you know she doesn't take attendance, right? You could just not come to class if you're planning to talk through the whole thing. Sorry, but it's pretty distracting."
What I received back was a slue of curse words like I had never before heard....
"It's my ******* class too I can do what I want *****, **** don't tell me what to do.. *trailing off as they walk away* *a few more **** just for good measure*"
What I heard was more or less I'm going to punch this wall now to reaffirm my manliness and call you all kinds of nasty things because I'm in a foul mood and the world should know it, particularly you, you *****.
I laughed.
Blessings, Mads.
