Trying Times with Teachers

I have never had a teacher that I didn't like – as a person. As a professor? Let’s just say I prefer the style of some more than others, if you know what I mean.

One of the hardest things about coming back to college has been trying to figure out exactly what each professor expects. I have decided it takes at least three weeks to get the hang of each one’s quirks. But by then it just might be too late.

I find it ironic that my teachers who claim to personally detest the very idea of grades are the ones that give the hardest tests. Be prepared to find the most minute detail buried amongst the 357 pages of assigned reading that week, because that is the very question they are sure to ask. Usually those are the same ones that are impossible to take notes from, since just when I think they are rambling or have gotten off topic, there it is again. The dreaded test question.

The professors I like best are the ones that spell out exactly what will be on their exams.

                 I like getting good grades. Call me crazy.
       
                                 
Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it, or at least give it the old college try.

Each semester I have a couple of instructors that I absolutely love. They are dedicated to their students and passionate about the subject. No question is unimportant and no comment insignificant. They make me work hard and stretch, and are fair in their grading. 

I also seem to get at least one teacher every semester who I struggle with. It seems like they are there with the sole purpose of making their students confused. Their lectures are so fast that I have to either listen OR take notes because if I try to do both I miss the whole thing. So I go home and learn what they just tried to teach me on YouTube. That way I can rewind as often needed. 

Then there are the professors that are just frustrating. These are the teachers that seem to thrive on grading papers based on form rather than content. Their tests include things that were never covered in class. And if they were in the textbook, I never saw them. 

My husband insinuated it might be my problem when I was whining to him last week. He wondered how it is that I always seem to get some of the most troublesome instructors. I assured him it was because “Rate My Professor” lies. It couldn’t be me, could it? 

Looking back I can see ways I could have applied myself better. And let’s face it – teachers are people too. They are just doing the best they know how. So for now, I will try to remember that. And do my best not to pull all my hair out.

  But when you see an old bald lady on campus, you will know exactly what happened.