When I started college, I went year round, and graduated in
three years. I fitted a number of “core
requirements” into summers, to get them over in six weeks. Buildings were not air conditioned way back
then, and in retrospect I believe every summer course I took was held in the
hot, hot garret of an old, old building.
These abbreviated classes generally were two to three hours in duration,
depending on the credit hours.
A psychology class I took one summer was held in an amphitheater
style class room on top of the chemistry building. The room was hot, stuffy, somewhat
malodorous; the sun glinted on brass railings from windows high under the
eaves, the professor droned, a tiny figure telescoped down there on the stage,
writing his points on the board, occasionally turning to face us.
Every student in the class showed up the day of the
anticipated mid-term examination, and learned the exam would be the following
day, as the professor had another topic to cover. He ignored the collective groan and ploughed
on. As he droned and pens scratched,
subdued whispering and some rustling commenced in the upper rows. A young man was using the opportunity of the prof’s
turned back to descend a few rows, ducking adroitly into an end seat or behind
the back of a seat when the professor turned toward us. We knew he was heading for the fire escape
door, open wide for any hint of breeze.
We all were rooting for his perfect escape, repressing the urge to
cheer, or even breathe loudly.
The professor caught the mood, and the rustling and surveyed
the class between writing bouts. It became a cat and mouse game. The professor wrote, then whipped
around. Nothing. He asked “Is something the matter?” Nervous titters. The next time around he checked his fly. The class still hung on, with
difficulty. The escapee was a few rows
from his goal, which included a few feet across the edge of the stage occupied
by the professor. Dead silence except for chalk and the voice talking to the
blackboard. The student went through the
door and down the stairs. The room burst
into laughter and applause.
This time the professor tugged his zipper to be sure it was
firmly in place before demanding “What is so funny!?” We didn’t tell him. Social Psychology in
action.
I love that this story still makes you chuckle after all these years. I wonder if the student who successfully escaped the class went on to accomplish other great things!
ReplyDeleteAh..but did the escapee pass? That is the million dollar question.
ReplyDeleteDelores said it - did he pass? Has he gone on to great psychological accomplishments? What a fun experience!
ReplyDeleteThis brings back memories of professors and galleries like this. I used to look at the big unused desk down in front and imagined lying down for a nap. Good re-telling of a memory, and hurrah! for that brave young man!
ReplyDelete