Why must I put up with such stupidity? I can already tell I am going to hate this class. I look around me at the other hundred or more students that make up my social psych class.
“Isn’t it true that blondes have more fun?” responds a girl in the far back row with long bleach blond hair. Laughing along with the rest of the class (except me) the professor holds up his hands for quiet. Not even waiting for the room to quiet down, professor Ryan asked the class… “how do you think this might be the case or how might people perceive that this is the case?”
I let out a sigh of despair. It has been nearly thirty minutes into our class and we haven’t even started on the material assigned for today.
“That could be one reason that people think blondes have more fun.” The professor stated with an undertone of mischievousness.
He would always do that. Rather than force the class to focus on what was supposed to be taught in the class, he would instead let the class carry him along on the long winded tangents on the most vulgar and idiotic topics that are related to the class. There he goes again.
“What do you males find most attractive in a female?”
“big boobs” half the females respond instantly, followed closely by everyone (except me) laughing.
The professor chuckles to himself. Looking at him, I note the usual rolled up long sleeve button up shirt he likes to wear. His slacks and shoes are hidden behind the computer and overhead projector desk he also uses as a podium. This is not what draws my attention to him. What does draw my attention are the fatigued looking eyes that always have dark lines underneath them.
Every movement is done with a kind of slow laziness. I got the feeling that he didn’t really want to be here teaching this class. Could it be that he doesn’t want to look over the material assigned for today and is instead enjoying the crude immature comments being made by the rest of the class?
The professor turns in my direction and for what could have been no longer than a half second but felt as though it lasted several minutes, we locked eyes. In that moment, he seemed to be daring me to go along with the class…to give into the desire to be like everyone else. Without wavering, I stare back at him. My face is a mask of determination. He seemed to waver under my punishing gaze, as if I forced him to feel the guilt for allowing this childishness to occur. The smile fell from his lips, and his eyes closed as he looked away. I had not blinked or moved a muscle during that contest of wills.
Taking a small breath as if resigned to a fate he wanted to avoid, he spoke to the class “Okay…we do really need to talk about what I assigned for us today.” With a quick look in my direction…I gave a nearly imperceptible nod of approval as we began to talk about social psychology.
