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Saturday, December 09, 2006 

The Professor & Me

So the goal is to appear busy for the next couple hours. This is best achieved by typing on the computer in an attempt to look über busy. In most cases I would blog. However, I have no material to blog about. Unless I write a blog about what happened to me in class on Wednesday night.

Let me set the scene. I had an EXCELLENT day at work. A ton of responsibilities were thrust upon me at the very last second and I was able to get them all done. I was even recognized by an outside source for my commitment. So I felt good. I felt like I'm really growing into my job and not just pretending. So I get to class on cloud nine and I'm totally shut down.

I don't know if I've told you about my professor before. I'm currently taking a statistics class as a prerequisite. I'll have to take a grad level once my program starts, but since I've never taken a statistics class, I decided to start with an undergrad class to get a feel of the material before I'm thrust into a grad level class. Because I'm a total overachiever. Anyway, I've had it out with my professor in the past. He likes to do things like change the online notes without telling anyone, telling you that you'll be quizzed on chapter 4 then take all the quiz material from chapter three, and refusing to let you make up a quiz when you're out of town on business. So, prof probably doesn't like me. It makes no difference to me. I paid my hard earned money to take his class, and damnit, I'm going to get my learn on.

So on Wednesday we reviewed some of the old material in preparation for our Final on Monday. We got to a problem I had seen before, but had a question about. Basically, there were two word problems that, to me, looked identical. However, they were each solved differently and I couldn't figure out why. I asked him several times and he seemed to get frustrated with me. At that moment he let me know, "It's written right there in plain English!" I lost it. A kid in the back of the class was trying to help me (and the rest of the class) understand because he saw the prof's explanation was crap. I stopped dead in my tracks, looked at the professor and said, "Listen! Apparently it's not written in plain English because this is the third time I've asked you for a better explanation and you can't seem to come up with one. Now, I have questions about this problem and I'm going to continue to ask questions until I'm satisfied with the answer." At that point I turned to the kid in the back of the class and instructed him to explain the answer again to the entire class. He explained it and I understood. My professor's going to fail me.

I've always had a lot of moxie. I've never been afraid to ask questions if I don't understand. I'm just more adamant about it now. When I was at Notre Dame, I had no clue about how much it costs for three credit hours. If I didn't show up to class, I didn't care. I wasn't paying for my education. Daddy Kiki was. But now that I see the bills and I understand how much an education costs, I'm gonna do my damnest to get every penny's worth of the money I put into the university. And if my professor decides to fail me for that, so be it. I'll be sending a letter to the President of the University explaining his incompetence.

You did the right thing. It wasn't in the least bit bitchy at all. I would write that letter if I were you.

I paid for my undergraduate classes at the University of Michigan. It took me ten years to finish paying off the loans.

I consider it money well spent as much for the experiences out of class as in class.
Sometimes,though, I wonder...

I think about the times I sneaked out of class to go have coffee at Drakes. The coffee only cost 50 cents and I thought that was so cool.

Anyway, graduate school is a whole different ball game.

you completely rock. You're right to make sure you're understanding things in class - especially because if you didn't understand, I'm sure there are people who are shy-er (is that a word? I think it's more shy. I'm not sure. But it's the word that describes everyone in the world in comparison to you.) than you who were afraid to ask. And you helped them.

That rocked. Seriously. You write that letter. Once I started paying for school, I moved my seat to the front and actually started asking questions. What a difference a bill makes.

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About me

  • I'm young, single, got a great ass, a serial dater, a sometimes drunk, addicted to the gym, liable to make fat girls cry, have a mild ED, think Notre Dame is the greatest college and Texas is the greatest state. Currently at a standstill since moving from Detroit Area, Michigan (tons of yuppies) to Mason, MI (noted KKK presence). Come be a part of my random, shocking, and exciting world.
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