Thursday, December 1, 2011

Until We Meet Again

New class tonight, woo hoo! Not really, basically the same group of people and a repeat instructor, Mr. Deputy. I'm pretty sure somewhere along the way I blogged about my misadventures in his class. If not, here's a refresher.

Mr. Deputy is a 30 something sheriff's deputy for the county in the next state over. He's been one for 14+ years, proudly boasts that he is a Incident Investigator, dresses like a frat boy, and insists on calling me Mrs. Golden and winks at me after he says it. OMG, the instructor winked at me and thinks we share a private joke! Wow, I am such a lucky gal!

When he walked in class he glanced at me and said "Whoa I know you!" Unfortunately, he does. I've warned my future team members of his nit-picky teaching style and how he basically uses group presentations to teach the class instead of actually teaching. They all seem pretty nervous, but I have assured him he is just a giant tool. Well, except tools are useful and he isn't. At all.

Oh goodie, it's review the syllabus time. And I am the only person who printed one out as per usual. I gave my copy to another student...I said I can read it off of my computer, also known as live blogging. I just had to introduce myself to the class and boy, how many times can you say your name and career path? I had forgotten that he asks people if they're sure when they end their sentences with a question. Fucking cracks me up every time. Now we keep looking at each other and laughing. Great, we really do have a fucking private joke.

Still going over the syllabus and he keeps asking me if I have found any mistakes. I smiled each time but finally said "Just that you're teaching the class". He replied with "Nice, sick burn!" I am doing my best to not LOL at him. It's very hard. He is literally less prepared than if you pulled a homeless guy off the street to teach us. 

Okay, we are on a 30 min break right now and two of the Juarez kids are having this flirty conversation in Spanish. It's me, the kids and Mr. Deputy and I know for a fact his Spanish is whack at best. After their last giggle, he looks at me and says "Hey wanna have a conversation in a language they don't understand?" Without really looking up from my computer I said "And what language would that be?" He dryly responded with "English". I couldn't help but laugh. His wit has gotten much better since the last time we battled. 

On to teaching time...

He just wrote three discussion questions on the board and we had to answer them on a sheet of paper. As I did the assigned reading, my answers came to me quickly and I was able to write an appropriate amount of information on each topic. Okay, I was able bullshit my way through most of it. I have learned that the more writing you do when he feels like springing a pop quiz, the bigger the words, the less he is likely to actually grade it on content and will just give you a high five and full credit. Needless to say, I got a high five and 5 out of 5 points.

So far we have read the syllabus, talked about him, and discussed our discussion questions AFTER we had to write our answers. Every time I spoke, Fat Alberto, a part-time security guard who is not only over weight but a sweaty imbecile, felt the need to piggyback on my correct answers with incorrect ones. If I hear "Oh yeah, it's like I was saying wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong" one more time I may cut a bitch. I have this overwhelming urge to correct everything that comes out of his mouth. He's just so wrong. Did you know that crime happens when people don't think about things and stuff? I feel so fucking enlightened now!

I know I promised epicness, the night started out promising, but he just abruptly ended class. Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, getting out 35 minutes early is always choice, but we haven't even come close to covering the designated topics as listed for week one in the syllabus. Just kidding. I'm going fucking home! Until next time kiddos!


Shannon said...

Digging it. Your teacher sounds like a hoot... Love that I now know that crime happens when I don't think about things..and stuff. Nice. :)

Post a Comment