I have been somewhat lazy in my schedule at the University of Tennessee and have not taken more than 13 hours in a semester. I am on track to graduate on time but I need to take a history class in order to graduate.
A history class. Oh, history classes. My history with history has not been pretty.
I have been enrolled in 2 history classes before, and I have had to drop both of them with W's because of my problems with it. Both of them were just too detailed and complicated and jam-full of too much information that I just didn't care about.
I went today to a history class in which I am enrolled. It was, well, interesting. The first interesting history class in my life. But it wasn't the history that was interesting. It was the teacher, Prof M.
Her pants came above her ankles. Her voice sounded like she was about to cry and she described every point on the syllabus, repeated it, gave an example, then clarified with another example, and possibly even another.
The mike (mic? mircophone?) made a loud noise which really didn't phase me because it's really not a rare occurrence in college classes. But Prof M's reaction was priceless-- a terrified look on her face as she crossed her eyes to look down at the mike. She glanced up, now looking like she was going to cry along with already sounding like she was going to cry. It was one of those things where even you would love to disappear because it's so awkward for that person.
The great reaction brought a few chuckles to the girls in our row, along with a few other people in the class. But what came next was totally uncalled for.
I impersonated Prof M. I crossed my eyes and looked terrified as I stared down at my hand like there was a mike in my hand. Gav looked over to see what I was doing and she laughed OUT LOUD. I was immediately thinking, Why did I do that? Why would that be a good idea? None of the outcomes could be good. I wish I'd just left that little part out.
The classroom was silent except for Gav's burst of laughter which quickly subsided, but nonetheless, everyone heard it. I was trying to hide behind the person in front of me as I was silently laughing. The guy behind us said, "That was loud."
The teacher looked around, then inquiring, "Oh, is the mike not on?"
The sad thing was that no one told her, "Yes, excuse us, we're laughing because the mike is not on." Because we weren't. We were laughing at her.
She looked puzzled. We were sliding down in our seats so as not to be seen by the teacher and further humiliating her and ourselves too.
We could not stop laughing for about ten minutes when I finally forced myself to no longer think about the incident, the woman, her voice, and her facial expressions.
Needless to say, I'm pretty sure that I'm dropping the class so as not to cause myself more embarrassment. I have a problem. I do things without thinking. I cannot hold my laughter. It causes awkward situations. It causes other people to feel bad. I need to work on it. But I'm not practicing with this class. It's not worth it.
For the 3rd semester, goodbye history!
