There happens to be a beautifully retarded irony with being stuck in two classes, back to back, with a professor that brings back to mind everything I despise about the atmosphere of higher education.
He calls his exams “opportunities,” claiming that the verbiage connotates a more relaxed, less stressful experience. Now, I absolutely detest when people dumb down shit to make people feel better. Call things what they are : they’re
exams. According to others who have taken the course, they’re
difficult exams. By no stretch of the imagination are they “opportunities.” I mean c’mon, an opportunity for what? Failure? At the very least, it’s an “opportunity” for excruciating stress, implying, among other things, a series of mishaps: red ink, writer’s cramp, and a numeric evaluation of one’s ability to regurgitate information effectively—just like everyone else before you.
I wonder… when the professor parks in a no-parking zone, does he receive a “parking opportunity” from the police? Or, maybe when he trips and falls on the pavement, breaking open his forehead spilling gray and white matter onto the pavement, does the hospital send him an “opportunity” itemizing the expenses for his ER visit?
Another thing somewhat eats at me. During intro day, a girl asked whether or not the 1st edition of the book, authored in-chief by the professor of my classes, was sufficient enough not to buy the 2nd edition. I wish I could have answered the question for her. I would have said, "no, dumb bitch, of course not. I mean, c’mon, why would the author of the book—who inherently receives a cut of the book’s sales—tell you:"
“No, I don’t want you to line my pockets with dollars. I feel it is enough for you to be forced to come to my class every day, sit through my mundane lectures even if you already comprehend the material, indulge yourself in the beautiful rhetoric of my book’s prose, and give you several ‘opportunities’ to verify that you have examined my every word. No, the first edition is fine. Save yourself $96 bucks—after all, you’re already paying me to force you to hear me speak and read my work.”
Last and most importantly: he mentioned that “if we keep him happy,” then he will give us “tips” for the exam.
Wait. If we KEEP HIM HAPPY? Are you shitting me? I’m paying $3,500 a semester—that’s more than $1,200 a month—to keep someone happy? Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? Normally, when I pay someone money, they’re supposed to make
me happy. I don’t pay my massage therapist to give
her a massage. I don’t pay my landscapers money to cut
their grass. So, why, on earth, would I have to pay my professor to keep
him happy?
WHAT THE FUCK!? Did I miss something here? I thought only taxes were a pay-for-someone-else’s-happiness payout. Now, I have to worry about paying a middle-aged man to inflict the horror of “opportunity” upon me, and the only way to lessen the pain which I paid for is by kissing ass.
Jesus fucking Christ. This feels like some sort of S&M club.
