Owls (Not) in the Classroom

This time, Professor brought a paperweight to class. It was owl-shaped. Half of the class cracked up, one girl much louder than others.

"Haha! The owl on your desk!" she screeched and pointed to the toy.

I don't remember seeing an owl on the desk, or hearing any owl hoots, or smelling or seeing bird shit all over the room, or having an allergic reaction to some sort of animal.

Professor had a similar reaction. "It's not an owl. This is plastic shaped to look like an owl."

At which point, the majority of the class broke out in laughter, and couldn't shut up for minutes. Save the professor, and myself. So I rolled my eyes, put on my sunglasses, and waited. Next!

U.F.O.'s and Oil Spills

Professor mentioned that there was a UFO sighting in China a couple of weeks ago. How did this relate to Kantian ethical theories again? Whatever. One classmate then followed up with a detailed account of the story. [Author's note: Thank you for stalling.] In his own words, "There was a UFO sighting in China two weeks ago!"

The response to which Smartie proceeded by saying, "That's what caused the oil spill in the Gulf!" ZOMG! Why didn't we think of that? Thanks for solving our mystery, Smartie. BP, all charges have now officially been dropped. Now time to find those humanoids! Where were they again? 33 million light-years away? Okay, we've got a lead.

Are You Smarter than a 5th Grader?

While explaining to the class the different types of definitions there are - I thought I learned this in 5th grade. I guess the rest of the country didn't - the professor next wrote on the board, "theoretical." For reasons I can't explain, he asked the class, "Now what word do you see in 'theoretical?'" Seconds later, a girl a few rows back shouted out, "THEORY!!!" as if she were on a game show. Perhaps, Fox's, "Are you smarter than a 5th grader?" I'm not sure who would've been more eager to answer the question. The girl in my class, or the 5th grader.

Dear Professor

Thank you for introducing me to the term "featherless biped." I could not have come up with this on my own, no matter how long I would never try. Another great piece of outstanding information I will definitely need to know for the rest of my life. I can't wait to confuse my friends when referring to "that featherless biped I met the other night." This is sure to secure a lot of gentlemen callers. Thanks, professor!! You're the best! :)

The Smartest Girl In Class

I recently had the pleasure of sitting next to the smartest girl in class. She made it clear that she is omniscient and therefore already knew everything the professor has said/will be teaching. The girl behind her was baffled by this, and wanted to know her secrets of figuring out the mysteries of the classroom answers. Happily, the smartest girl in class turned around and amused her.

"How do I learn this material?" the girl behind the smartest girl in class asked.

"Well, in order to learn it, it's just one of those things where you either get it or you don't. And it's really easy once you get it. I'm sorry you don't get it, but I get it, so it's really easy for me. You just need to get it and that way you'll know it, and it'll be easy for you once you get it," the smartest girl in class replied.

Phew, thank goodness! Couldn't have done it without you, babe.

I Lent My Pen

Yesterday was the first day of a new class. Next to me, a woman asked if she could borrow a pen. I was hesitant at first, especially since my only free pen was a Micron. If you don't know what that is, it's a fancy shmancy art pen that's uber expensive. The fact that she was 24 minutes late and therefore probably irresponsible didn't cross my mind at the time. Who's that late to the first class? Did she forget about it? I could have gone home and come back 3 times in 24 minutes. A grand total of 0 of these thoughts entered my mind at that exact second. A shame, since that particular second ended up being crucial to the future of my pen.

All I could think to myself was, "Be nice to a stranger for once." Big mistake. At first, I watched her struggle with the pen, as if it were difficult to write with. Newsflash: if you don't know how to write with a pen by the time you're 30, I doubt you'll be able to teach yourself this in one class period. After she gave up, she decided to go to her last resort: her laptop.

I expected her to return the pen at this point. Nope, wrong again. She couldn't seem to find a place to put it - the desk was slanted, and the girl couldn't figure out how to place the pen on the desk without it falling off. But there was a cap. It wasn't a loose pen. So it could have been balanced on the desk. Nevermind.

Obviously this task was far too complicated, so she did the only thing she knew would work. She shoved her pen down her shirt into her right breast, and let the top part of the pen just hang out slightly, two inches or three. Tacky would be a nice word to use, if I saw her on the street. But this was my pen. Mine. Not hers. I did not give her permission to shove my pen down her private parts. I didn't want an unknown person's sweat from her private parts on my pen. I especially didn't want my pen to be contaminated; I worried about getting a rash as soon as I touched it.

Needless to say, I didn't want my fancy shmancy, uber expensive pen after that incident. Not like she would have given it back anyway. She raced so fast out of class you would think that all of the Popeye's had suddenly gone out of business except for the one at the end of the hallway. Which didn't exist. And not even a thought to return the pen.