Sketchism

There’s a strange kind of satisfaction in knowing you’re the only one who did the homework assignment in class. It’s strange because the joy is mixed with a fear of being hated. Yesterday my english professor dismissed the class an hour early because the majority of the class didn’t do their homework assignments, which were, in fact, quite easy assignments. I walked into the classroom fearing that I didn’t understand the poetry and short story well enough. Turns out I was the only one with that struggle. Being a smart dude, the professor often starts the class with a some questions on the board about the reading assignment. I suppose some of the students attempted to pass off that they read the material by vaguely answering these questions. One student in particular, Carlos, must have written some far out stuff, because the teacher called him on it.

“So Carlos, what do think of the main character? Did she love her husband?”
“No.”
“Why not, Carlos?”
“Because, umm, didn’t they get in arguments a lot?”
“When did they argue?”
“Well didn’t she argue with him about his tone of voice and all that?”
“Carlos, you didn’t read the material, did you?”
“I guess I must have read the wrong one.”

Classic response. Sitting right next to Carlos, it was difficult for me NOT to laugh. In the story, the main character never even sees her husband. She laments over his death and the entire scene is of her sitting at her window thinking about how relieved she finally is. So you can see how it’s difficult to mix up an argument with… no argument. At this point, I figured the only person who hadn’t read the short story was Carlos. But then I noticed I was the only person laughing at his answers. Everyone else kept on looking down at the floor in shame. And then I knew. I was the only one.

I had some questions about the poem we were assigned to read, but the professor decided not to answer because nobody else had prepared. And then we got the lecture. Not a class lecture, but a behaviour lecture. They deserved it. Everytime I’ve sat through a disciplinary lecture, I deserved it 99.9% of the time. This time I was scott-free. I was a saint. I was the good boy.

I made it home an hour earlier than usual. Exhausted, I ate dinner and watched side A of my In Living Color dvd. Needless to say, it was a good day.