So today went as any other Thursday does: work for two hours in the mornings, then head to a long day of classes. My third class of the day is Advanced Shakespeare, and for the most part, it's pretty interesting. The professor is definitely young at heart - he has us addressing him on a first name basis, jokes around the entire class time, swears incessantly, and loves to show random films as long as they make even the smallest reference to Shakespeare. We all know he's a goof-off, but something was just not right today.
He made his grand entrance five minutes late, pushing his way through the desks rather than walking around them. He then proceeded to wrench the contents from the torn jeans he was wearing and throw them across the room, completely missing the table onto which he was (I'm assuming) trying to toss them. After fumbling with his manbag, he ripped a DVD from it and threw open the entertainment cabinet. The door kept falling shut, and this must have ticked him off because he kept slamming it back against the wall with his hand (and then eventually with his foot). Although the air conditioner was blasting, he decided to open all the windows to let in the forty degree air. The hair at the nape of his neck was wet with sweat, as was the back of the stained white tshirt he chose to wear to class. And even though his eyes were darting about wildly, he would suddenly begin nodding off (sometimes right in the middle of speaking).
He turned on the film (which was, by the way, Vincent Price's "Theatre of Blood"), stayed long enough to mutter a few incoherent phrases having to do with amphetamines and morphine, then left the room for the rest of the hour and fifteen minutes of class.
And this is the education I'm getting for thousands of dollars a semester.
No comments:
Post a Comment