Daydreams of the unchallenged psych major
I don't think I've ever described how much I am not liking my developmental psych class. It's nothing against the material (but, seriously, I already learned all this stuff last year in AP psychology), but the professor... I know not where to begin!
I am not about to call him an evil professor. He does not deserve the title of evil. But the way he handles his class does not seem congruous to what I think a college class should be. This is a small school, so one of the things it advertises is the ability to have group discussions within a class, because there are few enough people to do this and have everyone participate. And yet there is a complete absence of discussion in this class. It's all lecture. The general procedure goes as thus: we read the chapter, fill out a study guide (which doesn't help me learn any better, by the way. To me it's more likely a hindrance), and then the next class he reiterates exactly what was in the book with the help of overheads, meaning the lights are off. Factor in this is an 8 am class, and the yawn factor comes to about triple what it should be.
This setup is extremely reminiscent of the world history class I had in high school my sophomore year. I hated that class with at least two thirds of my existence, and eventually I stopped paying attention to the lectures altogether. I had conversations with my characters instead. I am inching closer to this state of inattention in psychology and have found myself openly daydreaming, as was the case today. And this can elicit some rather entertaining thoughts.
First of all I started wondering how I could best adapt the Ghostbusters theme song to instead be about the Mythbusters. This was rather difficult, as I knew next to none of the words, so instead I played the tune in my head and imagined synchronizing it to video clips of the Mythbusters. Adam being Adam, and Jamie being Jamie. But mostly Adam, because he's the one with the sense of humor. And also lots and lots of explosions, all done in the name of science.
I broke away from this train of thought to see where we were in the lecture, and my brain then yielded to imagining what would happen if the professor tripped over the overhead cord. This elaborated to general pointless slapstick starring someone resembling one of the three stooges. Not only did he fall gracelessly at the expense of the overhead cord, objects such as the podium randomly fell on him as if gravity was shifted to him instead of straight down. Then I imagined slipping and falling onto the overhead projector, which started rolling out of control. Eventually the projector started flying and floated beyond the earth, with the guy still holding on, except by now he reminded me of Tristan from Stardust. Meanwhile back on earth some schoolgirls were playing jump rope with the coils of cord that still were not expended from the projector's flight through the universe.
Back to my musical medley with Mythbusters clips, the song was now accompanied by dancing girls, who were all dressed in matching Halloween outfits and makeup that could be described as straggly gothic vampire and a tiny bit on the skimpy side. They reminded me of the Haunted Forest thing they have at Sea World at Halloween, because sometimes there are some girls dancing to "Thriller" off to the side and you can watch them while a wolfboy comes and stands right behind you so you jump when you finally turn around.
Is class almost over yet? Because when my mind wanders back from these trips of dancers and flying overheads I feel a strong urge to beat my head against my tiny pathetic slab of desk because I am that bored. I wonder again how this guy could have so many degrees and still be so clueless. He really doesn't expand the information that well, I think to myself. If I didn't have a decent psychology teacher in high school to previously explain it, I'd probably be easily confused until I learned not to take what he says too deeply. And some of the things he says are extremely condescending, but I'm not even sure if he knows he's being condescending. I begin to internalize a selfish desire to somehow one-up the prof because I secretly believe I'm smarter than this class, or at least the way he teaches it.
I dwell on this for a long while and then return to my costumed dancers, who had by now gotten drunk and were clumsily doing the cancan completely out of beat to the Ghostbusters/Mythbusters music. And that is what I did in class today.
I am not about to call him an evil professor. He does not deserve the title of evil. But the way he handles his class does not seem congruous to what I think a college class should be. This is a small school, so one of the things it advertises is the ability to have group discussions within a class, because there are few enough people to do this and have everyone participate. And yet there is a complete absence of discussion in this class. It's all lecture. The general procedure goes as thus: we read the chapter, fill out a study guide (which doesn't help me learn any better, by the way. To me it's more likely a hindrance), and then the next class he reiterates exactly what was in the book with the help of overheads, meaning the lights are off. Factor in this is an 8 am class, and the yawn factor comes to about triple what it should be.
This setup is extremely reminiscent of the world history class I had in high school my sophomore year. I hated that class with at least two thirds of my existence, and eventually I stopped paying attention to the lectures altogether. I had conversations with my characters instead. I am inching closer to this state of inattention in psychology and have found myself openly daydreaming, as was the case today. And this can elicit some rather entertaining thoughts.
First of all I started wondering how I could best adapt the Ghostbusters theme song to instead be about the Mythbusters. This was rather difficult, as I knew next to none of the words, so instead I played the tune in my head and imagined synchronizing it to video clips of the Mythbusters. Adam being Adam, and Jamie being Jamie. But mostly Adam, because he's the one with the sense of humor. And also lots and lots of explosions, all done in the name of science.
I broke away from this train of thought to see where we were in the lecture, and my brain then yielded to imagining what would happen if the professor tripped over the overhead cord. This elaborated to general pointless slapstick starring someone resembling one of the three stooges. Not only did he fall gracelessly at the expense of the overhead cord, objects such as the podium randomly fell on him as if gravity was shifted to him instead of straight down. Then I imagined slipping and falling onto the overhead projector, which started rolling out of control. Eventually the projector started flying and floated beyond the earth, with the guy still holding on, except by now he reminded me of Tristan from Stardust. Meanwhile back on earth some schoolgirls were playing jump rope with the coils of cord that still were not expended from the projector's flight through the universe.
Back to my musical medley with Mythbusters clips, the song was now accompanied by dancing girls, who were all dressed in matching Halloween outfits and makeup that could be described as straggly gothic vampire and a tiny bit on the skimpy side. They reminded me of the Haunted Forest thing they have at Sea World at Halloween, because sometimes there are some girls dancing to "Thriller" off to the side and you can watch them while a wolfboy comes and stands right behind you so you jump when you finally turn around.
Is class almost over yet? Because when my mind wanders back from these trips of dancers and flying overheads I feel a strong urge to beat my head against my tiny pathetic slab of desk because I am that bored. I wonder again how this guy could have so many degrees and still be so clueless. He really doesn't expand the information that well, I think to myself. If I didn't have a decent psychology teacher in high school to previously explain it, I'd probably be easily confused until I learned not to take what he says too deeply. And some of the things he says are extremely condescending, but I'm not even sure if he knows he's being condescending. I begin to internalize a selfish desire to somehow one-up the prof because I secretly believe I'm smarter than this class, or at least the way he teaches it.
I dwell on this for a long while and then return to my costumed dancers, who had by now gotten drunk and were clumsily doing the cancan completely out of beat to the Ghostbusters/Mythbusters music. And that is what I did in class today.