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Out with the Trash
Jul. 23rd, 2016 07:42 pmI graduated from college last December with a BS in Chemistry with a Biology minor. Unfortunately, because of various advising issues, I started my minor a year late and thus came upon multiple scheduling issues in my later years stemming from there only being one class offered of certain Chemistry courses. One of said courses was Physical Chemistry.
PChem was only offered in the fall. There was only one section. In order to graduate on time, I also needed to take Genetics that semester, which had both a lecture and lab period. Unfortunately, every single Genetics option interrupted one of my other unchangeable classes. The least disruptive option was a lecture+lab section where the lecture didn't overlap with anything, but the last 20 minutes of the lab overlapped with the first 20 minutes of PChem.
I needed both of these classes, and I needed them that semester.
In my past experiences, labs rarely went the full time period anyway, but I couldn't just sign up for the classes and hope for the best. I needed permission from both teachers and signed sheets proving that I had spoken to them both and gotten approval to take the overlapping classes. I still hoped that the lab would just never go long enough that I'd miss those 20 minutes, and for the first month and a half of the semester, I was golden. There were a few close calls as far as being on time for PChem, but I didn't once walk in after my teacher had already begun talking.
My teacher was kind of a goofball. He was great, he was a genius, but he was funny in the way that mad scientists tend to be. Example: We watched the trailer for Trolls 2 in class once just because a student randomly yelled out that she wanted to watch it. We regularly interrupted our studies to watch that Techno Waffle vine (the one where some guy throws waffles out a car window to techno music). We spent about ten minutes once trying to prove whether or not one of the scientists we mentioned in class was a good father because of an offhand comment by our teacher about this scientist's lack of love for his children.
I loved him dearly, and he wrote me a killer recommendation letter to vet school. But.
The day finally came that the Genetics lab went for the full time period. I got out after 20 minutes had gone by in PChem. I was already nervous about walking into a class late, because I don't like the feeling of everyone looking at me. Honestly, I considered just ditching, but PChem is difficult to understand when I did go to class, so I didn't want to miss any more than the 20 minutes I was forced to. Plus, I had gotten permission to be late if I had to. Granted, I don't think my teacher remembered that at that point, since I had gotten the permission before the previous summer.
Anyway, by sheer chance, the PChem classroom was right across the hall from the Genetics lab. I burst out of the lab door like the room was on fire and went right into the PChem class.
In hindsight, I really should've wondered why the usually-closed door was propped open by two inches.
I sped into the room and the first thing I remember was a hollow "thump," a dull pain directly on the top of my head, and a "bang" on the table beside me before a wave of laughter went through the classroom. I looked to my side to see the recycling bin, blessedly empty, laying on the table.
It hadn't occurred to me yet what exactly had happened. The shock of everyone laughing hadn't quite gotten through me, or else I probably would've burst into tears. I remember my teacher being very apologetic and explaining that the prank had been meant for Gary. I remember wondering who the hell Gary was, since he definitely wasn't a kid in the class. I remember laughing it off and hurrying to my seat, taking out my notebook and pencil as quietly as I could.
I remember the embarrassment hitting me a few seconds later.
I remember keeping my head dipped low so my hair would cover my face for the rest of the lesson.
I remember wanting nothing more than to keep my teacher from noticing that I spent the entire hour left of the lesson crying into my books.
I know I'm making it sound as if I was traumatized. I really wasn't. After the fact, it was hilarious. It's one of my favorite stories to tell now, honestly. I mean, how many people can say that they had a recycling bin dropped on their head in the middle of a college class because of a juvenile prank orchestrated by their own teacher?
I'm glad it happened. It helped me be a bit less nervous about walking in late to things. I still don't like to, but now it's more because I think it's rude than because I don't want people looking at me. After all, what could possibly be worse than having a garbage can fall on you in front of a room full of your peers? Not much. Having already dealt with and survived the worst possibility, there's not much to fear anymore.
Besides, everyone knows I thrive off telling a good story, and man, is this a good story.
PChem was only offered in the fall. There was only one section. In order to graduate on time, I also needed to take Genetics that semester, which had both a lecture and lab period. Unfortunately, every single Genetics option interrupted one of my other unchangeable classes. The least disruptive option was a lecture+lab section where the lecture didn't overlap with anything, but the last 20 minutes of the lab overlapped with the first 20 minutes of PChem.
I needed both of these classes, and I needed them that semester.
In my past experiences, labs rarely went the full time period anyway, but I couldn't just sign up for the classes and hope for the best. I needed permission from both teachers and signed sheets proving that I had spoken to them both and gotten approval to take the overlapping classes. I still hoped that the lab would just never go long enough that I'd miss those 20 minutes, and for the first month and a half of the semester, I was golden. There were a few close calls as far as being on time for PChem, but I didn't once walk in after my teacher had already begun talking.
My teacher was kind of a goofball. He was great, he was a genius, but he was funny in the way that mad scientists tend to be. Example: We watched the trailer for Trolls 2 in class once just because a student randomly yelled out that she wanted to watch it. We regularly interrupted our studies to watch that Techno Waffle vine (the one where some guy throws waffles out a car window to techno music). We spent about ten minutes once trying to prove whether or not one of the scientists we mentioned in class was a good father because of an offhand comment by our teacher about this scientist's lack of love for his children.
I loved him dearly, and he wrote me a killer recommendation letter to vet school. But.
The day finally came that the Genetics lab went for the full time period. I got out after 20 minutes had gone by in PChem. I was already nervous about walking into a class late, because I don't like the feeling of everyone looking at me. Honestly, I considered just ditching, but PChem is difficult to understand when I did go to class, so I didn't want to miss any more than the 20 minutes I was forced to. Plus, I had gotten permission to be late if I had to. Granted, I don't think my teacher remembered that at that point, since I had gotten the permission before the previous summer.
Anyway, by sheer chance, the PChem classroom was right across the hall from the Genetics lab. I burst out of the lab door like the room was on fire and went right into the PChem class.
In hindsight, I really should've wondered why the usually-closed door was propped open by two inches.
I sped into the room and the first thing I remember was a hollow "thump," a dull pain directly on the top of my head, and a "bang" on the table beside me before a wave of laughter went through the classroom. I looked to my side to see the recycling bin, blessedly empty, laying on the table.
It hadn't occurred to me yet what exactly had happened. The shock of everyone laughing hadn't quite gotten through me, or else I probably would've burst into tears. I remember my teacher being very apologetic and explaining that the prank had been meant for Gary. I remember wondering who the hell Gary was, since he definitely wasn't a kid in the class. I remember laughing it off and hurrying to my seat, taking out my notebook and pencil as quietly as I could.
I remember the embarrassment hitting me a few seconds later.
I remember keeping my head dipped low so my hair would cover my face for the rest of the lesson.
I remember wanting nothing more than to keep my teacher from noticing that I spent the entire hour left of the lesson crying into my books.
I know I'm making it sound as if I was traumatized. I really wasn't. After the fact, it was hilarious. It's one of my favorite stories to tell now, honestly. I mean, how many people can say that they had a recycling bin dropped on their head in the middle of a college class because of a juvenile prank orchestrated by their own teacher?
I'm glad it happened. It helped me be a bit less nervous about walking in late to things. I still don't like to, but now it's more because I think it's rude than because I don't want people looking at me. After all, what could possibly be worse than having a garbage can fall on you in front of a room full of your peers? Not much. Having already dealt with and survived the worst possibility, there's not much to fear anymore.
Besides, everyone knows I thrive off telling a good story, and man, is this a good story.
