Last installment of "Make Fun of Jeff's Profs."
First is my journalism professor. My ONLY journalism course and the unfortunate reason for actually having to take another semester seriously. And though I still have one more course, I FEEL like a journalist already. I mean, just yesterday I tried to interview someone right after their family died in a fiery car crash and had no moral objections whatsoever.
The class is Media Writing II, the sequel to a terrible course that I felt captured the essence of a department that was in the midst of cancellation.
My professor is Dr. Starr, a man who doesn't live up to his name. His name should be Dr. Windbag. Slightly more accurate, and I think it has a nice ring to it. Almost Presidential.
Needless to say, he's boring, long-winded, and tells stories that actually numb my mind. Like I sat on it funny and when class ends, there's a tingling sensation to remind me that I can still think.
Although I suppose it could be worse. I could have a teacher that actually tries to teach and take grades. So far I'm happy to "report" that I have learned nothing.
Next is my creative writing course.
I wish I could go unnoticed in this class, but the room is the size of my new walk-in closet and I accidentally opened my mouth the first week and impressed this hack. If you don't know what a hack is, it's someone who once was great and now just says, "Hey, remember that one thing I did a while back?" Though I suppose that might be giving him too much credit.
He rambles on for several minutes, trying to construct little speeches like he was writing them. Though also to impress the overwhelming majority of the class, which is made up of freshman and sophomore girls, who write poetry in little diaries.
My finger-twiddling doesn't seem to distract the rest of them, as I lean helpless against the back wall, hoping that he won't venture for another opinion from me.
Here's an opinion, we studied "The Great Gatsby" 6 years ago, and it wasn't that fantastic then.
Next is my Criminology professor. She's strict and stern, like a true woman of the law, crackin' down on wrong-doers. As a friend of mine pointed out, she looks like the teacher from "The Magic School Bus." And she DOES have a striking resemblence to Ms. Frizzle. Other than that, she lectures, she teaches, and except when she tried to sing "Bad Boys," she does an OK job.
Finally, there is my Literature and Film professor. This class has the potential to be the bigger waste of my time at A&M. 5 films and the literature they are based on, all the same director. The same one. A guy who died 30 years ago. Not different interpretations of film adaptations. Just the same yahoo making boring black and white movies.
The professor is the epitome of the word pretentious. Never heard the first person tense used so often. Sometimes when I'm tired of hearing how brilliant he is, I just tune him out and let the waves of arrogance wash over me. Ahh, the warm feeling of some terrible professor's ego, ticking away the minutes of his captive audience.
The best part is that he doesn't find it at all strange that he literally pauses a movie every 5 frames just to sit and ponder what the director was trying to convey. I'd love to see him gaze in wonderment at such masterpieces as Harry Potter or Daredevil, both adaptations of "literature." Unfortunately I'd have to send his secretary a formal notice with the recommendations, since he's above corresponding with lowly students.
So it looks like it going to be a long semester of classes I have little to no interest in. Sounds familiar.
At least it's the last one.
