Bringing doodles to life
If there were ever a class that I had the misfortune to get stuck in, it would have to be Basic Math 101 at the State University of New York. It's a toss between Math, and International Relations, although that is another adventure all together.
I was 15 at the time. Frank and I were kind of forced into this math class by our parents. I don't entirely know what else we were taking that semester. I have the vague recolection of psychology, with Dr. Kellogg (Rice Krispies). Either way, the math class sucked. Muchly. The math class was long, and drawn out, boring, and obnoxious. Most of our time there was spent drawing, or doodling. By the time the semester ended, I had doodled quite a nice piece of work on my desk with a pen.
The teacher was this beached whale, in the suit of a black woman, by the name of Mrs. Phillips. She was short, and had short black hair, and constantly licked her lips. The first class period only had 10 or 15 students. The second one, had 6, and it held steady there for the rest of the semester.
The class was in EJ Brown Business building. An old building on campus, aging back to the 60's if I had to take a gander. This campus was kind of outdated, and the buildings looked old, like most of the teachers, and had this sort of...rustic boarding school look to them. Please keep in mind, this is SUNY Alfred - the campus where everything is up hill from the parking lots, and one of the dorms was built in the shape of a swastika.
In the first class period, I walked in with Frank, from across the hall, where the student lounge was. They had vending machines, and lockers. It was a short, hallway-esque room, and was always packed full of students, milling about, running to their lockers, trying to get a tutor, or just lounging on the couch, half stoned, and spewing philosophy at the top of their lungs.
We walk in, and take our seats. The class began at 1:30, which meant the room was deserted for half an hour before the class start. This fact became ever so important later on in the semester. I sat on the row as far right in the room as possible, and as far back as I could be. I was sitting in the corner, with my torn jeans, black boots, and a black shirt. My boots were propped up on the desk in front of me, and I was sitting there with my black velvet baret looking bored out of my skull.
Frank took the seat next to me, in his jeans, sleeveless t-shirt, denim coat, and boots. We each took out our pens and paper, and waited.
5 minutes late to the class, and there is Mrs. Phillips, nearly rolling into the class room. She said "Is this basic math?"
A woman with long blonde hair was sitting near us, "yes it is."
The first class was spent reveiwing the sylabus.
"And you'll need a book...."
We packed up our things 35 minutes later, and were leaving. Frank walking ahead of me, as usually happened. I was almost free! I was almost out the door when Mrs. Phillips licks her lips and says "Excuse me."
I stopped dead in my tracks.
"Yes?"
"Are you my mentally challanged student?"
The next class period, she tries to teach us addition. She stands up at the chalkboard, and looks at her book on the desk, turns to the board and writes "4"
She turns back to the book, licking her lips, and then back to the chalkboard and writes "+"
Looking back to the class she licks her, big, brown, slimy lips and says "Sometimes the writing in these books is just a little too small." and she glances down, and moves to the board, and in big, proud white chalk, she writes "4 ="
"Hm....now let me see here. Four. Plus. Four. Equals....."
Very slowly, and very proudly, and very, very carefully so as to not mess it up, she writes "9."
"There!" she says to the class, licking her lips once again, "That's how you add."
"Uh, Mrs. Phillips," said the blonde, (Turns out her name is Vicky) "That's not right."
"What do you mean? Of course it's right." she said in a huff, placing her hands on her hips.
"No, it's not." another blonde, Andrea, stated. "Four plus four is eight. Not nine."
"No, it can't be." as she turns back to consult her book.
"Really, it is." Andrea slowly lifts her thin body out of her chair, "Look at my calculator."
"Well, I'll be......."
How they gave this woman a class, is beyond my comprehension.
Mrs. Phillips inherently didn't like me because she was certain I was her mentally retarded student, and I just wouldn't admit it, but also, because I had a habit of telling her "You're wrong." or "Why don't you do it this way? That makes more sense...."
Frank and I would routinely go to class from the lounge across the hall, early, after getting a pepsi for himself, and a Mountain Dew, or Crabjuice, for me. We would play pranks, like throw the chalk in the trash can, bend the prongs on the electrical connector for the overhead projector...things like that.
She had the worse luck with overhead projectors. *shakes my head* And once, it actually wasn't our fault.
A few days before, we took the mirror out of the overhead projector. She turned it on, and nothing happened. Sometimes we'd bend the plug. She gets out her transparancies the whole while, licks her lips over, and over, waddles over to the projector, puts the transparancy on, and as we all wait, she flips the switch.
The bulb blows up, instantaneously.
Frank and I are sitting in our seats, and I start laughing. I just can't contain it. Frank is sitting there biting his lips trying not to crack up. Vicky looks at Frank who's in the middle of drawing a comic of Mrs. Phillips, and me, drawing a maze and some weird sword-type objects on my desk and mouths "Did you guys do that?" - Vicky had grown wise to our endeavors, and our mischeveous ways when the three of us were in Friendly's one day, and Vicky started commenting on how it was funny that the prongs were bent on the projector.
"Uh...yeah...about that....." Frank started to say, "uh...well, you see...."
"Oh my god! That was you???"
"Actually, it was the two of us." I chimed in.
"You two..."
It was one of the best art classes I had ever taken in my life, and it was very entertaining to walk into EJ Brown Business every day and know that I had a purpose. To KNOW that I had a mission to accomplished.
Unlike International Relations with Mr. Hard-on....
I was 15 at the time. Frank and I were kind of forced into this math class by our parents. I don't entirely know what else we were taking that semester. I have the vague recolection of psychology, with Dr. Kellogg (Rice Krispies). Either way, the math class sucked. Muchly. The math class was long, and drawn out, boring, and obnoxious. Most of our time there was spent drawing, or doodling. By the time the semester ended, I had doodled quite a nice piece of work on my desk with a pen.
The teacher was this beached whale, in the suit of a black woman, by the name of Mrs. Phillips. She was short, and had short black hair, and constantly licked her lips. The first class period only had 10 or 15 students. The second one, had 6, and it held steady there for the rest of the semester.
The class was in EJ Brown Business building. An old building on campus, aging back to the 60's if I had to take a gander. This campus was kind of outdated, and the buildings looked old, like most of the teachers, and had this sort of...rustic boarding school look to them. Please keep in mind, this is SUNY Alfred - the campus where everything is up hill from the parking lots, and one of the dorms was built in the shape of a swastika.
In the first class period, I walked in with Frank, from across the hall, where the student lounge was. They had vending machines, and lockers. It was a short, hallway-esque room, and was always packed full of students, milling about, running to their lockers, trying to get a tutor, or just lounging on the couch, half stoned, and spewing philosophy at the top of their lungs.
We walk in, and take our seats. The class began at 1:30, which meant the room was deserted for half an hour before the class start. This fact became ever so important later on in the semester. I sat on the row as far right in the room as possible, and as far back as I could be. I was sitting in the corner, with my torn jeans, black boots, and a black shirt. My boots were propped up on the desk in front of me, and I was sitting there with my black velvet baret looking bored out of my skull.
Frank took the seat next to me, in his jeans, sleeveless t-shirt, denim coat, and boots. We each took out our pens and paper, and waited.
5 minutes late to the class, and there is Mrs. Phillips, nearly rolling into the class room. She said "Is this basic math?"
A woman with long blonde hair was sitting near us, "yes it is."
The first class was spent reveiwing the sylabus.
"And you'll need a book...."
We packed up our things 35 minutes later, and were leaving. Frank walking ahead of me, as usually happened. I was almost free! I was almost out the door when Mrs. Phillips licks her lips and says "Excuse me."
I stopped dead in my tracks.
"Yes?"
"Are you my mentally challanged student?"
The next class period, she tries to teach us addition. She stands up at the chalkboard, and looks at her book on the desk, turns to the board and writes "4"
She turns back to the book, licking her lips, and then back to the chalkboard and writes "+"
Looking back to the class she licks her, big, brown, slimy lips and says "Sometimes the writing in these books is just a little too small." and she glances down, and moves to the board, and in big, proud white chalk, she writes "4 ="
"Hm....now let me see here. Four. Plus. Four. Equals....."
Very slowly, and very proudly, and very, very carefully so as to not mess it up, she writes "9."
"There!" she says to the class, licking her lips once again, "That's how you add."
"Uh, Mrs. Phillips," said the blonde, (Turns out her name is Vicky) "That's not right."
"What do you mean? Of course it's right." she said in a huff, placing her hands on her hips.
"No, it's not." another blonde, Andrea, stated. "Four plus four is eight. Not nine."
"No, it can't be." as she turns back to consult her book.
"Really, it is." Andrea slowly lifts her thin body out of her chair, "Look at my calculator."
"Well, I'll be......."
How they gave this woman a class, is beyond my comprehension.
Mrs. Phillips inherently didn't like me because she was certain I was her mentally retarded student, and I just wouldn't admit it, but also, because I had a habit of telling her "You're wrong." or "Why don't you do it this way? That makes more sense...."
Frank and I would routinely go to class from the lounge across the hall, early, after getting a pepsi for himself, and a Mountain Dew, or Crabjuice, for me. We would play pranks, like throw the chalk in the trash can, bend the prongs on the electrical connector for the overhead projector...things like that.
She had the worse luck with overhead projectors. *shakes my head* And once, it actually wasn't our fault.
A few days before, we took the mirror out of the overhead projector. She turned it on, and nothing happened. Sometimes we'd bend the plug. She gets out her transparancies the whole while, licks her lips over, and over, waddles over to the projector, puts the transparancy on, and as we all wait, she flips the switch.
The bulb blows up, instantaneously.
Frank and I are sitting in our seats, and I start laughing. I just can't contain it. Frank is sitting there biting his lips trying not to crack up. Vicky looks at Frank who's in the middle of drawing a comic of Mrs. Phillips, and me, drawing a maze and some weird sword-type objects on my desk and mouths "Did you guys do that?" - Vicky had grown wise to our endeavors, and our mischeveous ways when the three of us were in Friendly's one day, and Vicky started commenting on how it was funny that the prongs were bent on the projector.
"Uh...yeah...about that....." Frank started to say, "uh...well, you see...."
"Oh my god! That was you???"
"Actually, it was the two of us." I chimed in.
"You two..."
It was one of the best art classes I had ever taken in my life, and it was very entertaining to walk into EJ Brown Business every day and know that I had a purpose. To KNOW that I had a mission to accomplished.
Unlike International Relations with Mr. Hard-on....
posted by squishedlizard at 7:50 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home