Wednesday, April 17, 2002

A Day in OMH (Our Modern Heritage)

I was fifteen minutes late to class yesterday. But I just happened to sit down as Ireland and another female started chatting about the latest 'gossip'. Our professor interrupted them abruptly saying, "Every minute I have to stop to ask you two to be quiet, that is one more minute we have to stay in class... this is kind of like we're in nursery school!" All I can say is: How true. How true. And also... good for you, Dr. Cowgill!

We have quite the group of individuals in this class. We have one girl who runs her fingers through her hair (pulling apart tangles)... incessantly. Oh! ... there she goes again! Periodically, she'll sort through her hair searching for -- only what I can assume to be split-ends -- and she yanks on them gently. Once they are free from her scalp, she wraps them around her hand. Therefore, by the end of this 75 minute class, there is one giant hairball (in the vague shape of a hand) protruding from her wrist. What does she do with that?

Then there's a boy who must fit the word "procreate" into every class discussion. He must belong to some kind of "word of the semester" club, where he must use this certain word in a sentence every day. He must be the president of that club because he is doing extremely well!

Then there's that cute little brunette, always with her make-up fresh and her petite frame adorned in the latest Abercrombie & Fitch ensemble. For 75 minutes, she is bent over her desk -- maybe doing her best to appear as if she's taking notes or not caring one way or another if the professor notices -- writing a long letter with bubbly letters and dotted i's in the shape of hearts to a boy named Ryan... like we're still in 7th grade. (Maybe I could pass him the note during study hall! *wink* *wink*)

There’s also a blonde boy who sits in the front row. I sit behind him. Now... I contribute to the class often because I’m never without words. About every 5-10 minutes or so, he looks over his shoulder at me. What is he looking at? (I tease him about this. He's a pretty cool guy.) The other students in the class can only be seen as the ones who impatiently stare at their watches. Maybe they have not figured out yet that we are, in fact, in college, and every class is optional. Well, they're only sophomores. Maybe they'll learn in due time. *laugh*

And then there's the professor. One of those ones that you know you'll remember for the rest of your life. One of the ones with that flare and spark. The one with a gleam in her eye whenever she starts to speak. She speaks in a way that is inspiring, on topics that probably wouldn't be if they were spoken by somebody else. Even the fact that my professor has a "favorite euphemism" is inspiring. According to her, it is important to study vocabulary to avoid government manipulation. You 'gotta' love those teachers who make you want to ponder certain elements of society. She finishes the class period with, "That's all I have to say so if you want to leave early, feel free. If not, feel free to stay and 'discuss' for the remaining 30 minutes of class."

Everyone (save three people) gets up and leaves. The ‘hair-pulling’ girl, the ‘staring’ boy, and I don’t move a muscle. We continue to be glued to our seats, our minds wriggling with anticipation as to what intriguing topic our professor will come up with next and what profound effect she’ll have on the way we view it. And those other students… well, they will be forever oblivious of the fact that they had a chance to witness a teacher ‘in action’ who cares about what she’s teaching and why she’s teaching. They missed out on something they may never again have the chance to experience… learning from a teacher who can touch your life… if you are open to it.

*emmett* ~ who continues to crave learning long after classes conducted by Dr. Jane Cowgill... and will miss them deeply next year

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