So I'm sitting in my wedding planning class this morning. I want to design other people's weddings. Obviously not my own since me sitting at home knitting sweaters for my cats with a another man filing our convenient tax breaks we receive as a married couple would indeed not please Jeeeeezus. Where was I? Wedding class. 9am. Right. Now these other sorostitutes are in there planning their own weddings I have come to assume. Today's subject was "Life After Marriage." I sit in the back because I'm tall, always late, and a tad poosty. I'm watching these girls take notes and it's like a damn marionette show. Every little thing has to be written down for later examination. They aren't even listening anymore for fear to lack a punctuation mark.


Everytime, all those little noggins bob down and you can hear their hot lead furiously scratching away. Then they look up and await their next vital piece of information. It. Drives. Me. Insane. Just listen dammit! Notes are to help you later recall. Not to publish a dossier. That is what is wrong with us. With me and you and your cousin Billy who has this fabricated, capitalist dream disease called "ADHD." (No, it's not a disease. It's a reason to sell parents drugs because they're kids are being to kid-like.) What's wrong with our generation is PROCESS.

We don't know how to think, process information and adapt it, or form ideas. We want A, B, C, or D. And we want it now. Did we get it right? Can we move on to the next question? Are we the winner on the Price is Right?!

But it's not our fault. It's George Bush's. As usual. No Child Left Behind began its haunt while we were getting to the age of standardized testing. It demanded that teachers be assessed on how well students performed on those standardized tests. So teachers said, "To hell with actual instruction! Let's just make sure they can get the majority of those answers right so we can move on and I can pay my rent another month." So here we are now with no ability to implement things we are supposed to learn. Fortunately in college, professors have room to be professors. Too bad their students are too slack-jawed and note obsessed to hear them. We have got to learn to let go. You can't think or be creative by being rigid and stuck inside your damn iPod bubbles. Jot down helpful notes and listen for once. 

Oh and none of that applies to bullshit core classes. No. You can just figure out A,B,C, or D for those and take notes. They already expect you to I guess.

Take it for what it's worth or not worth. Take out your earbuds. Look people in the eye. Listen. Comprehend. Utilize. Because what happens when your A, B, C, or D become an essay exam? What do you really know?


Over and Out,
CampusQueer