There’s this one class that I have from 8 – 9 am every M-W-F that is actually painful for me to go to. Not because the classroom has the distinct odour of BO ( it doesn’t) or because the prof drones on like Ben Stein in Ferris Beuller’s Day Off (‘Johnston? Johnston? Johnston?’ (she doesn’t)). It’s because this one class is the most basic of the basic English course, and is the classmate equivalent of dragging my 32-year-old buns into a grade 10 class for the day ala Drew Barrymore in ‘Never Been Kissed’. The class is (literally) filled with kids just out of high school (there are two people over the age of, say, 25; me and the prof). And this magical class is filled with questions being asked of the the prof every 4 seconds, questions with the word ‘like’ peppered in there more times than post-binge bed farts.
So I rarely go to this class. This isn’t my first time doing this whole school rodeo, I’ve done a whole bunch of these classes, and this one course is mandatory for anyone doing any program at my University (or so it seems considering that I’m the only aspiring writer in the class and the rest are doing weird stuff like botany and other weird sciences that guarantee interesting dinner party conversations. Scientists: careers i don’t care about until 1. I watch Morgan Freeman play one, 2. They do cool stuff like create a glossy lip stick that you don’t need to reapply but doesn’t get all crackly and meth-heady on your lips, and 3. There’s a zombie apocalypse. They’ll be who I blame. Also, I’m a little jealous because me not understand science. There. I said it).
Does me preferring not to go to this class make me a quitter or a slacker? would you watch the same episode of a tv show over and over just because it was on, even if you didn’t like it? I surely don’t think so.
As a side note to help my cause: I’m pulling an A in this class, but its not a proud ‘A’; it feels more like being the ‘smartest’ person in your grade 12 class… When you’ve been in grade 12 for 7 years. It’s kind of a guarantee you’ll do well and if you don’t, well, then you might as well knock a couple of your teeth out and start having a slew of kids who you’ll give names ending with ‘ … etus’ (I.e. Cletus, Fetus, you know, the popular names)