What began as an innocent belittling of all art students in my first column became a helpful trend this quarter as I have attempted to dog or clumsily allude to at least one major each week. My logic was that if I managed to blatantly insult or casually degrade each major, we could go on peacefully coexisting without any hard feelings. As time has run out, this column will be a desperate attempt to fit in as many majors as possible. Some will be left out and others probably mentioned a second time, but be assured, I tried my best to tag as large a sampling of students as I could. 300 majors is a lot, so if I missed you, share with the major nearest to yours.
Everybody has pet peeves. A woman might hate when a male friend leaves a toilet seat up, a homeowner might detest finding alien dog droppings in their yard and a photojournalist might hate being asked to read. We all have foibles. Academically speaking, there is one generally accepted custom that makes me angrier than a geographic information systems analyst asking a gas station attendant for directions: packing up before class is over.
Each time Chowder starts loudly shoving his books and papers into his book bag while a professor is still instructing, I want to embarrass him like a campus recreation major who has to state his/her major at an accounting party. That is, if accountants actually had parties.
As long as I've been a student, I've been as deeply troubled by this ritual as a music therapy major is by Slayer. The reason for this habit is simple enough: Make a lot of rustling noises when the end of class is near and the professor will cut things off a crucial 30 seconds early that one could spend listening to the latest cut on their iPod, or, in the case of computer scientists, finding new ways to manipulate graphics from my favorite video games into scenes from The Matrix.
Of course, I'm by no means above the temptation to try to end a mind-numbing class as soon as possible and have found my hand nervously quivering over the zipper of my book bag with two minutes to go like a Pre-optometry major about to slice his first eyeball, but I resisted.
What has happened to the moral fiber of contemporary college students? We've got less self-control than a classical civilization major who has a test to study for but knows there's a special on the Mongols on TV. (I know, it's a stretch. But let's see you come up with something better for classical civilization majors)
The practice stretches beyond the inane; it's as downright disrespectful as an environmental health science major using aerosol deodorant or asking an organ performance major to play some Emerson, Lake and Palmer.
Not only do professors have to spend hours of their lives lecturing to a bunch of zombie students, they've got to withstand the passive-aggressive organizational techniques of the dimwits. It has been my intention to be a man of the students for the lion's share of this quarter, but I've got to side with the Ph.D.'s on this one. Call me a Judas, but that's as indefensible as a political science major complaining about a weak job market.
Despite all the reasons why students should not partake in this undesirable deed, it continues to be a classroom trademark for a singular reason: It works.
What professor could be expected to stand up to a scholastic horde more ravenous for freedom than an urban planning major for an Erector set? They're as helpless as a marine biologist in the desert, a dietician in Taco Bell at 1:30 a.m. on a Friday or a French major in Russia. (Or vice-versa, as well as freely exchanging any other foreign language in a country that doesn't speak the previously mentioned language.)
I implore you, my beloved colleagues in the educational realm, to make this behavior as out-of-date as a degree in cartography (complain all you want, all the maps have been drawn, friend). As the bells ring atop the clock tower above Cutler Hall five minutes early, aspire to be a better person and wait for your prof to cut you loose.
Because in the end, all we're doing is making ourselves look like a bunch of physical education majors.
- Eric Dryden is a senior creative writing major. Send him an e-mail at ed890402@ohiou.edu.
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Eric Dryden
