Stupidity in the Guise of College Professors

February 13, 2008 by Keli.

While listening to my college-attending child complain about a “moronic” professor, I regressed right back to my own school days and found myself wrinkling my nose in rancor as I recalled some of my nutty instructors. Out of almost fifty professors over a four year period, I had my share of stupers (short yet again, for observably stupid persons).

I took psychology 101 my first quarter and, oh, what an unwelcome introduction to a university course. My professor bore an uncanny physical resemblance to a hillbilly-mountain man, convicted felon type, who’d gotten all gussied up for a trip into town. Professor Nutcase appeared as if he hadn’t shaved or untangled his shoulder length locks in over a decade. He wore a heavy flannel work shirt and jeans on a daily basis, be the weather hot or cold, but had the presence (or was it absence?) of mind to balance out his outfit by foregoing shoes and socks. He paced the auditorium stage barefoot while he spoke.

But it wasn’t his slipshod physical appearance that tipped the scales of intelligence on the low side and repulsed students of delicate sensibilities. It was the fact that he muttered to the point of indistinction while he lectured, swallowing syllables and whole sentences. I resisted the urge to run frantically from student to student, yelling, “Did you get that?” I knew I’d be met by blank stares.

Professor N. did everything in his power to ensure that the few students in the lecture hall who actually listened as he mumbled could not even read his lips. He faced the floor as he paced, and if that wasn’t bad enough, he engulfed himself in smoke from his endless supply of cigarettes so that he moved about in a curtain of brown-gray vapor. These were the olden days, before indoor smoking was banned in public places. I took refuge in the detailed class lecture notes offered in the student store. Notes of this sort were for classes requiring a subtle form of an apology or peace offering to students to make up for less than stellar instructors.

After the first quarter, I learned there were professors that should be diligently avoided, like Dr. Nutcase. How then to determine which classes to take? A tip I found worthwhile was to seek out those courses which college athletes enrolled in. Classes with a heavy contingent of football players had particularly fine teachers and a manageable workload. These courses included: Speeches of American Presidents, Children’s Literature and Psychology of the Sexes.

Unfortunately, in order to fulfill the requirements for my major, I did get stuck with a few more stupers before graduating: Dr. Ihaveahugego, Dr. Idratherbeinthebahamas, and Dr. Ihatestudents. (Do note that each of their names began with the letter “I”). But I realized that sometimes even stupers provide a means to an end.

Think first, last and always.

Keli
Keli@Counterfeithumans.com

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