The current LJ writer's block question is, more or less:

If you could confront the worst teacher you ever had, what would you tell them?


My answer is not theoretical. I did. He was teaching Algebra II in college.

There's some background here. He and I got off on the wrong foot at the beginning of the class because I sat next to my friend (and later roommate). We had been accustomed to sitting in the back of the Algebra I class; she was driven to panic by math but was determined to get her business degree; I was comfortable enough with math that I could translate from math-teacher to her, real-time, in the back of the class, so she kept pace with the lesson and understood it. We had Algebra II together, and we started doing the same thing. Unlike the previous teacher, he saw this as disruptive, and made it clear that he would not tolerate talking in class. We didn't try to explain, we just shut up. She began falling behind, and I began quietly hating him. My tutoring was not as effective after the class, and we were crunched for time. It also seemed like he hated teaching the subject.

My roommate was home sick in bed the morning of this particular confrontation.

I wanted to confirm that the period for simple interest was to be assumed to be one year, unless otherwise specified; the book had not said, and my memory was rusty. He interrupted me halfway through asking my question and started answering a different question. We went back and forth, both of us getting more and more impatient, a few rounds. I could see that about 75% of the class could understand what I was trying to ask.

I finally told him that I wasn't going to waste any more of his or the class's time. I added, "This class sucks!" and stomped out of the room.

I fumed into the computer lab. I was absolutely furious, with near-literal steam rising off the top of my head. You could put your hand three inches above my head and feel hot water vapor. I seem to recall saying something or other to the lab attendant, who was probably ralmathon, and between him and a passing professor, my question was answered.

I realized that this was one of the cases where the first person to give their side of the story was probably going to come out on top, and I had the advantage of time, because he was still stuck in class. I went to the Dean and explained what had happened. The Dean recommended that I make use of the tutoring center and that I continue to attend class. No action was taken against me that I was aware of. No action against him ditto, but I was fine with that. My classmates talked to me afterward and told me that they'd wished they had the guts to do the same.

After that, I stopped pretending to pay attention in class. Most of the material was review from high school, and I have always tested well. I brought books to class and read them quietly in the back. For a few weeks, it was the Necronomicon, the paperback edition with the lurid pink text on the front. I would read from that, and intersperse my investigations into the fascinating but weird Babylonian mythology with looks over the top of the book at the teacher, meeting his eyes when I could.

He took the next trimester off from teaching.

The most frustrating part of it was, he was actually a great teacher when he was teaching something he loved. He guest-lectured in a business class of mine, and he was suffused with enthusiasm and managed to communicate that passion to the class. If only he'd been that way in math, or if only he hadn't had to teach math.

It has begun.

We are computer geeks here, and we do stuff literally and precisely. I just edited the Little Fayoumis's homework for the first time.

Instructions:

things you do: color green
names of things: color blue
how things look: color red

Trouble: the word "fast".
In context, it is clear to an adult who can see the pattern that it is a "how things look" word. It was so very not clear to Little Fayoumis.

Black marker time. Cross out "how things look", write in "descriptive words". Refrain from calling homework designers "morons". Also refrain from explaining to Little Fayoumis about the action of fasting, even though the homework designers are morons and/or culturally unaware.

By the fourth grade or earlier, swallowtayle and I found that most of the stupid worksheets insulted our considerable intelligence. Hey, remember Professor Ben Around?

Woke up at the usual ~0520 hour, hammered alarm clock, hammered alarm clock again, went back to sleep. Woke up again at phone call. Zombied over to phone, heard Marx pick it up, got knock on door that it was for me.

It was the delivery service. Dell had neglected to supply them with my apartment number. At instruction, I left a signed note, "I am expecting a delivery from Dell", so they could leave it were I not there.

Stumbled off to school. Hung with Darkside for a short bit; he had gotten some of the cinnamon quasi-jellybean candies, and had amused himself by setting his mouth on fire earlier; now he amused himself by setting mine on fire. He had a lab to get to; I had Take It Apart & Put It Back Together, this time working with the OS. Linux, today's subject.

Sheldon is unaware of some of the vast store of trivia that I have gleaned by reading the jargon file; I shared some of my wealth of knowledge with him. I hunted down the original Usenet post about Linux on Google, for his information. Teacher's pet, anyone? I'm just hoping this fun stuff will filter back to future classes. Researcher, me?

In the break between hours of lecture, Dawn gave me a rather large plastic baggie filled with spearmint and peppermint. Mmmm. Yummy smell. On advice, I have the bag open to allow the herbs to not moulder in their own moisture. To the eye untrained in legal herbalism, it looks like I'm carrying around a rather large baggie filled with something ... other than mint.

I also discovered that I deal far better with Darkside's babbling when sleep-deprived. When fully awake, I contest for equal conversation space. When half-asleep, I sit next to him, completely content to merely hear the sound of his voice, whatever he's talking about. When awake, I prefer to talk about topics of common interest -- anime is often better than RPG's.

I intend to have lots of fun with Tigereye, as soon as she's restored power and restored full functionality after whatever the hell Echo did to her while she was awake after he made repairs to her first cord.

( Random notes to self, transcribed from off of hand )

Feb. 10, 1991
I sort of got to geog. bee. Sarah and Jay went out at first elimination. Jay answered carbon monoxide when he should have answered carbon dioxide. Sarah got a country wrong. We are leaving for California at 11:40 am. on March 11. Cleaning out file, found plenty of chicken books. Going to Pennsylvania too. Wow! Can hardly wait. Spent 1 1/2 hours in airport getting tickets. Lady let me, and humiliated me by catsitting. She put her cat on my shoulder, when I didn't want it there at all. Made me feel little again. [Guide Dog Aunt] and [Guide Dog Uncle] coming to stay with us a week before 11th. Randall and Kevin, the cousins, too!