WARNING: The below is a stream of consciousness of observations from a graduate school class. It’s probably not going to make a bunch of sense, but it’s what occurs to a student sitting in a class where he has already turned in all of his assignments for the semester (motivation levels were not high, in other words).
The first thing I notice about this class, other than the undercurrent of students restless to turn in their final assignments and go home, is that the professor, as usual, is nattily attired. From what I can tell, he is wearing a button down shirt, covered by a sweater, covered by a nice sports coat. He looks sharp, but such layering has never been possible for me…fat guys don’t layer clothes well, in my experience. Stuff doesn’t fit particularly well on the first layer, never mind a sweater and a sports coat.
The professor is giving a short lecture to begin the class; essentially he is reviewing stuff that we covered earlier in the semester. He stops periodically and asks for volunteers to help define ideas, and about 5 people (out of 13 in the class), contribute to his lecture. These are the same 5 people who have been contributing all year. I’m one of the contributors, not because I have anything particularly intelligent to say, but because I am physically not able to shut up for a full hour and a half.
After his lecture, the professor gives us a short break and tells us that there are some people who have to give the required presentations for the semester who will be speaking to us in the second half of class.
During break I hustle over the local pizza shop and buy myself a caffeine-loaded soft drink, let’s call it “Hill Drizzle,” and a bag of Pizza-flavor Combos. I almost never drink soda, but I figure that the caffeine might help, and the Combos, well, the Combos are just a weakness. I also grab a pack of gum to avoid pizza breath, and it occurs to me that the last time I bought a pack of gum I ended up pulling out a filling with it. Nice.
On my way back into class one of my classmates points to the soda I’m carrying and says, “Drinking spermicide, eh?”
Shocked, I stop in my tracks and stare at the offending bottle; actually wondering for a moment if I accidentally bought a bottle of spermicide. He laughs and tells me about a rumor that this brand of soda might just reduce a man’s chances of fathering children. He is surprised I haven’t heard the rumor and suggests gently that I should get out of the house more often.
When I sit down, I look at the label on the offending soda and notice that the 20 oz. bottle is reported to contain 2.5 servings. Some quick math comes out to 8 oz. a serving, or the size of those old glass Coke bottles. It reminds me of something I read in The Omnivore’s Dilemma about high fructose corn syrup being so cheap that the soda companies decided that, rather than lower the price of their products, they should increase the volume. The theory was something about people not being willing to buy more than one bottle of soda (or hamburger, or order of fries) because they would feel piggish, but that these same people would gladly buy a larger portion (a 20 oz. soda instead of an 8 or 12 oz.). This resulted in the companies selling more soda with the larger portions and making more money. It’s evil genius, I tell you.
I am snapped out of my economics day dream when the presentations begin. The first presentation is given by a woman who clearly has no desire to be giving a presentation in this class at this moment in her life. She rushes through her presentation in a quick, low voice that never rises or lowers in tone. This sort of public speaking encourages daydreams, and before long I have a vision of one of my least favorite middle school teachers carrying a whip and a chair and shouting at a nervous student:
“Dance for your grade! DANCE!”
The monotone presenter mumbles to a finish to a round of polite applause. The class is just playing out the string, and everyone is anxious to be finished for the day. It has been a long, difficult semester with a great many assignments, and we are relieved to be done with them all.
Another woman then stands up and begins her presentation. She presents on the theory of reading to children. She is a teacher and reads to her students to begin every class. She says that it helps to calm them down and get them ready for the lesson.
She then explains that parents should read to their children, as it models the behavior of reading and also allows the parents to read things that are perhaps a little above the reading level of the child. She provides some research that says that this shouldn’t just be done for children in grades 1-5, but up through high school. It’s almost like advertising reading, she says, just like restaurants that everyone has already heard of continue to advertise and remind people how good their food tastes.
The entire class is engrossed by this idea, and we are all discussing it and asking questions well beyond the allotted time. When the professor interrupts us to wrap up the discussion, we are reluctant to stop. This sort of thing never happened in my undergraduate days. Sometimes I really enjoy graduate school.
(The website she referred us to is http://www.stevelayne.com/webdata/resources/Handouts/Dynamic_Read_Aloud_Programs_and_Titles_that_Work.pdf)
