I'm not a very patient person, and I know it. Sometimes, I even don't mind it. However, I do consider myself to be a rather easy-to-get-along-with type of person, in most cases, even with my impatience.
But lately....
I don't know if there's something in the air but there just seems to be a whole truck load of drama going on around me. The only thing I can think of for why this is happening is based on a theory...
A few of my friends and I have this theory and I think it's pretty good. We seem to think that anything you pray to God for, he'll do the opposite. Anytime you make a positive, resolute decision, he'll change it.
For example, if I..say...pray for patience. He's going to take my impatience, which I have a lot of, and put me smack-dab in the middle of a ton of situations to test that patience, or lack there of. This test, I think, is what will eventually make me grow as a patient person.
But good God it's hard to endure!
I have this professor and I am convinced she has specifically been designed and created and put on this earth as my professor merely to push all my buttons. It's the only way to explain the extent to which she irks me! Now, I've only had three classes with her and I fear that means it's going to be a very long semester.
Shall I give you some examples?
Alright. I find her ridiculous. Excessively ridiculous. She is haughty, self-righteous, inconsiderate, controlling, manipulating, nose-stuck-in-the-air, I'm-so-much-better-than-you, down right obnoxious! And what do I do with people like that?
Well, my first instinct is to run. But seeing as she is my professor and my grade does depend on me being in class, I was unable to run. So I stayed and went to option number two. Now, I could either choose to brood in the back of the room and give her dirty looks as she parades around like the queen of chalk, but there's really no point to that. Instead, I laugh. Not out loud, of course, because that would be unprofessional and rude (which she is always telling the class is most DEFINITELY not appropriate in any situation), but I do laugh in my head and it is a sort of way to relieve my pent up frustration. Another tactic, which usually comes with laughing, is my use of smart-arse (I'm editing for my....more conservative readers) remarks. There's a saying in my house, which I coined, and it goes like this...
"I'm mouthy in my thoughts."
Usually out loud too! And lucky for me, I have a friend in this class that I can whisper my obnoxiously funny comments to and do my darndest to keep from giggling loud enough for the professor to hear. Personally, I think I'm pretty funny and I always feel the need to share my thoughts with others. So that's what I've started to do. My poor friend...
So, now I've built up to laughing in my head and making inappropriately disrespectful comments out loud. Subconsciously, this, of course, has plastered a probably rather smug-appearing smile across my face. I really am enjoying myself in the back of the classroom, even though I have no idea what the pompous lady is talking about.
Now I'm smiling...and my friend's smiling....so what happens next?
The my-girdle's-too-tight instructor calls us out on it! She literally stops her sentence, which I'm sure wasn't that impressive anyway, to ask me and my friend what we are smiling about! Caught completely off-guard, I had to struggle not to bust out laughing! Instead, I make some off-hand remark about the textbook and pretend to play-dumb (which I am sometimes very good at) and she goes on her way.
But that was only day one.... (Is this post getting too long? Well, tough. I'm enjoying it.)
Day two of the class, I still had quite the smug smile on my face, though really it was less smug and more just pure, unhindered, dumbfounded amazement that such a woman could have made it so far in life....and have three daughters and a husband (I pity them!). She, yet again, disrupts whatever-the-heck her lecture was to ask what my friend and I were smiling about. I really can't remember what we were smiling about and it probably had nothing to do with anything, but I almost lost control when she noticed it for the second time! Again, we both just mumbled something to make her go back to lecturing and leave us and our smiles alone!
At this point, in my mind, I've reached the stage where I'm laying on the floor, tears of hysteria running down my face, as I laugh abundantly at the pure idiocy of the situation! Twice, to be called out in front of the class for smiling! Imagine my embarrassment!
Or...not. I was actually thoroughly entertained and wished only that the guy with the Australian accent would take notice and want to sit next to me during the next class so that I may make comments worth smiling about to him. ;)
My, oh, my! Has it been an eventful semester already!
But wait--THERE'S MORE!
Day three of the class-that-never-ceases-to-amaze! What will happen next?? Something most irksome, indeed. Today's very difficult and vitally important-to-the-rest-of-my-life lecture was on commas, apostrophes, noun-verb agreement, and spelling.
Basically if you can tell what's wrong with this sentence...
I know's they'res a place, I kan go.
...you would pass the lecture with flying colors. So you can understand why I spent my time instead, smiling and writing down my rantings on a available sheet of paper (which shall be tucked lovingly into my journal for no one else to read). My professor, however, decided that I was probably a idiot-delinquent and should be put to the test for being so haughty and in denial of my limited capabilities. (I don't know this for sure, of course, but I assume she was thinking something along those lines). For the first time all semester, meaning all three classes, she used the ridiculously preschool-like name tags that sat like a plaque in front of each person, depicting our names, to call on me.
"Andrea." Her statement was harsh and too the point.
I looked up at her only with my eyes, keeping my head down so I looked at her from the top of my eye sockets, and my eye brows raised so she got the full "are you kidding me?" feeling I was sending her.
"Can you tell what is wrong with this sentence?"
Like hell I could! It didn't mean I was going to tell her. But, due to the fact that my parents taught me to be respectful and courteous to all my authorities (or something like that), I sat back in my chair, crossed my arms, looked at her and said...
"It's using the apostrophe to make 'women's' into a possessive plural, when it only needs to be possessive." Very straight forward, very to the point, and from her expression, very right.
She of course said something like "right" and then went on with her lecture as I picked up my pen and returned to scribbling like a mad woman on a piece of notebook paper, as evil, villainous laughs filled my head.
We also had exercises that were due today in class so that we could go over them. She informed us that she had posted the answers online so we could check out answers after class, if we missed one during class (meaning--if you stop paying attention because you feel like your brain might explode due to my ability only to speak like a bimbo, the answers are also online). I don't know about you, but I am very good at multi-tasking, or so I think, so I proceeded to scribble in my notebook.
She began with exercise one, putting the answers on the projector and saying, "Do you guys agree with all these answers?"
Well, of course we agree. I mean, it is the answer key...right?
WRONG!
There was one question that she purposefully wrote the answer incorrectly (mind you, she posted these exact answers online) so that we would learn how to "think critically" and always "challenge" what we read, no matter who the author is.
Honey, if you want to be challenged, come over here and I'll show you a challenge. If I know how to do anything, it's how to be challenging. I'm good with challenging.
The nerve. So I corrected the not-really-the-right-answer on my little sheet of paper and made a mental note that she was delusional. I also realized that any answers she gives me, I will assume she is testing us again and that my answer is always correct. All of this happened before I returned to my written rantings, of course. School first, they say, then you can continue your very expressive, explicit works of art in pen.
All-in-all, not a bad class. She is, however, going to keep pushing my buttons and soon there will be no entertainment in that and I will have to force myself not to resort to bitterness and hatred. As I said in one of my recent tweets, Lord save me from my professor, and save my professor from me.
