Pointless College Stories 2, Episode 4: Injured Reserve
I noticed that none of my Pointless Stories from last year had anything to do with my classes, thus giving the impression that I didn't actually do any studying when I was in college. (An assessment that's...not entirely false; at least, not as false as I'd like it to be, in hindsight.) This year, I've already had one. So how about another story that takes place in class?
I mentioned yesterday that PSU had a lot of required “General Education” courses, and fish_tie mentioned that in his post for today as well. I get the impression that most schools have some form of Gen Ed, but PSU seemed to have more, probably because of its status as a “state related” institution. (It’s not actually a “state school,” despite its name, because...oh, heck, it’s complicated. Read about it on wiki if you’re really interested.) Anyway, the point was that PSU had all sorts of wacky requirements, including several credits of gym, a speech communications class, and probably my least favorite, the mandatory health class.
Those specific classes had an extra annoyance factor because the instructors took them seriously, and graded strictly, so they weren’t just “play tennis once a week, get credit for it.” The work wasn’t usually too tough, compared to other classes, but you were expected to attend every time, and you did have to do the homework (especially for speech-com, as I recall). I can’t speak for every PSU student, but I know at least some had a moment of panic when they realized that they might just fail gym. (I famously had to drop my golf class before I failed it, but that’s another story.) And given the difficulty of scheduling these classes that everybody had to take, failing one and having to find time to re-take it was a real pain in the butt.
So, of course, in my typical responsible manner, I didn’t get around to taking the stupid health class until my very final semester. It only met once a week, and the readings weren’t terribly difficult, so I didn’t think too much about it. I’m pretty sure I got a B, and I probably could have done better with a bit more effort, but like I said -- final semester; didn’t care. The biggest imposition was having to go to some building I’d never seen before in the corner of campus every Monday.
As for the content, I can barely remember it. I’m sure there was lots of stuff about nutrition and hygiene and various things that I didn’t pay any attention to, because who does, when you’re 21? (Er, sorry, juliesque.) There’s one class I remember very vividly, though -- the childbirth class.
It was actually pretty standard stuff. There was no lecture at all, really; we were just going to watch one of those videos -- you know, the “Miracle of Life” ones. The instructor gave a little warning speech at the beginning, saying that some people feel sick while watching this, and there’s nothing wrong with that, and if you feel dizzy or nauseous, you can just go stand out in the hall for a while until you get it together again. And if you can’t tolerate the very idea, just say so, and you can bow out now. No one will judge you. Yeah, except that everybody most definitely will judge you. It was a class of around 80 people, most of whom didn’t know each other, but you knew, in a group that large, somebody was going to lose it. It’s always a guy, too -- and yet guys will never take the out when it’s offered. It’s a guy thing.
So we sat in the dark for 20 minutes or so, we got to the childbirth scene, and sure enough, somebody took a dive. Literally -- he collapsed, and took his entire desk with him. The noise was spectacular. The instructor stopped the tape, turned up the lights, and brought the guy around. Once she ascertained that he was OK, she finally asked, “I said you could skip this part; why didn’t you say anything?” After a couple of false starts, he finally managed to get out, “No, I have to stay! My girlfriend’s due on two months!”
Like with most of these stories, that’s all I know. I had no idea who the guy was before that day, and wouldn’t have recognized him afterwards. I’m sure he did a wonderful job in the delivery room, and is a devoted father today.
I mentioned yesterday that PSU had a lot of required “General Education” courses, and fish_tie mentioned that in his post for today as well. I get the impression that most schools have some form of Gen Ed, but PSU seemed to have more, probably because of its status as a “state related” institution. (It’s not actually a “state school,” despite its name, because...oh, heck, it’s complicated. Read about it on wiki if you’re really interested.) Anyway, the point was that PSU had all sorts of wacky requirements, including several credits of gym, a speech communications class, and probably my least favorite, the mandatory health class.
Those specific classes had an extra annoyance factor because the instructors took them seriously, and graded strictly, so they weren’t just “play tennis once a week, get credit for it.” The work wasn’t usually too tough, compared to other classes, but you were expected to attend every time, and you did have to do the homework (especially for speech-com, as I recall). I can’t speak for every PSU student, but I know at least some had a moment of panic when they realized that they might just fail gym. (I famously had to drop my golf class before I failed it, but that’s another story.) And given the difficulty of scheduling these classes that everybody had to take, failing one and having to find time to re-take it was a real pain in the butt.
So, of course, in my typical responsible manner, I didn’t get around to taking the stupid health class until my very final semester. It only met once a week, and the readings weren’t terribly difficult, so I didn’t think too much about it. I’m pretty sure I got a B, and I probably could have done better with a bit more effort, but like I said -- final semester; didn’t care. The biggest imposition was having to go to some building I’d never seen before in the corner of campus every Monday.
As for the content, I can barely remember it. I’m sure there was lots of stuff about nutrition and hygiene and various things that I didn’t pay any attention to, because who does, when you’re 21? (Er, sorry, juliesque.) There’s one class I remember very vividly, though -- the childbirth class.
It was actually pretty standard stuff. There was no lecture at all, really; we were just going to watch one of those videos -- you know, the “Miracle of Life” ones. The instructor gave a little warning speech at the beginning, saying that some people feel sick while watching this, and there’s nothing wrong with that, and if you feel dizzy or nauseous, you can just go stand out in the hall for a while until you get it together again. And if you can’t tolerate the very idea, just say so, and you can bow out now. No one will judge you. Yeah, except that everybody most definitely will judge you. It was a class of around 80 people, most of whom didn’t know each other, but you knew, in a group that large, somebody was going to lose it. It’s always a guy, too -- and yet guys will never take the out when it’s offered. It’s a guy thing.
So we sat in the dark for 20 minutes or so, we got to the childbirth scene, and sure enough, somebody took a dive. Literally -- he collapsed, and took his entire desk with him. The noise was spectacular. The instructor stopped the tape, turned up the lights, and brought the guy around. Once she ascertained that he was OK, she finally asked, “I said you could skip this part; why didn’t you say anything?” After a couple of false starts, he finally managed to get out, “No, I have to stay! My girlfriend’s due on two months!”
Like with most of these stories, that’s all I know. I had no idea who the guy was before that day, and wouldn’t have recognized him afterwards. I’m sure he did a wonderful job in the delivery room, and is a devoted father today.