This Doesn’t Mean I’m Sharing My Cake!

, , , , , | Learning | July 31, 2020

In my Statistics and Probability college class, there are over thirty students in a six-row-by-six-column desk setting. The day starts with a fun lesson on the probability of two people having the same birthday, month and day only, not including the year.

A girl on the opposite side of the room says there’s no way that’s possible as there aren’t enough people. The professor tells her to watch and see. He goes up and down the columns of students, asking them for their birthdays and writing them on the chalkboard. When he gets to the second column and a student says their birthday, we hear a shriek come from the farthest side of the room.

The girl who had proclaimed disbelief earlier is now wide-eyed and has her hand over her mouth. “That’s my birthday!” she exclaims, and the class erupts in laughter.

I looked up the statistic and there’s a fifty-fifty chance with only twenty-three people!

1 Thumbs

Leaves More Room For The Ambitious People

, , , | Learning | July 30, 2020

I am an admission counselor for a university, which basically means I answer people’s questions and help them decide if they want to apply. I have this conversation way too often.

Me: “Hi. How can I help you today?”

Student: “I want to go to college.”

Me: “Awesome, you’ve come to the right place! What program are you interested in?”

Student: “I don’t know.”

Me: “Okay, what would you see yourself doing once you get this degree?”

Student: “I don’t know.”

Me: “May I ask why you want to get a degree if you’re unsure what you want to do with it?”

Student: “I just want a degree.”

I go over the basic spiel of tuition cost, term lengths, etc.

Me: “I am happy to send you this information in an email, as well, and my contact information will be in there, so feel free to give me a call if you have any further questions!”

Student: “Okay.”

Me: “Thank you for calling and have a great day!”

Student: “Okay.”

Cue them never answering my follow up calls or emails. And people wonder why admission counselors get burnt out so quickly.

1 Thumbs

Life Teaches A Harsh Lesson

, , , , , | Learning | July 28, 2020

When I was in university, I had a friend who was in the same course and we noticed that a lot of people had trouble with a certain subject. He enjoyed being active with people, organizing things, taking part in student politics, and the like. Thus, he offered to organize an afternoon course for people who needed help with the subject. I also agreed to help, we booked a room, and he even managed to enlist one of the professors teaching the subject. He told everyone when the courses would take place and a couple of people said they’d come.

The date and time came and nobody showed up. My friend and I were rather confused, the professor was rather miffed, and we tried to find the other students. We knew they were likely still in the building since we had a course later that day. We found them in one of the computer labs, playing. Most of us had laptops, but the WiFi was terrible and very restricted.

When we asked them why they didn’t show up, they said they didn’t know it was serious and thought we were just asking if anyone was interested.

“We told you the times and you said you’d come,” my friend pointed out.

The response was general shrugging and comments that they didn’t remember that.

Adding insult to injury, the professor reprimanded my friend for wasting his time. “Next time, make sure to confirm with people when you organize something before wasting my time.”

Needless to say, my friend felt like he had been stabbed in the back and, once we were alone, he cried tears of rage. All I could do was to try and console him, telling him he wasn’t the one who wasted anyone’s time; they had wasted his, instead.

This was the last time he tried anything like this, deciding that people didn’t need or want his help, so why should he bother. He also retreated from some of the other activities he had participated in, feeling similarly disappointed, but for different reasons.

1 Thumbs

This Counselor Is Very Light On The Guidance Thing

, , , , , | Learning | July 27, 2020

I go to the guidance counselor’s office at my college, where I have made an appointment with my counselor. I want to touch base and see what classes I need to take next semester because the list of requirements is very cluttered and I want to make sure I am picking classes that will count toward my degree. 

I go into the counselor’s office and we begin to talk.

Me: “I wanted to take a look at what classes I need because there are so many options I want to ensure I’m actually meeting the criteria to graduate.”

The counselor takes out a sheet of paper with the exact information that is available online.

Counselor: “Well, here’s the list.”

Me: “I actually had trouble reading this list; that’s why I wanted to get help from you and help narrow it down.”

The counselor looks annoyed.

Counselor: “If you read it, why did you need an appointment? All the information is here.”

Me: “Right, but I’m struggling to pull out the important information, and I don’t want to waste a semester and a bunch of money on a class that won’t count.”

The counselor thrusts the list at me and stares pointedly.

Counselor: “It’s all right there. It says at the top. You’re an adult now; you need to be able to think for yourself. This is college; we can’t do everything for you.”

Me: “I understand that, and I’m not asking you to choose my classes, only to help me ensure I understand the criteria for each part.”

He took out another paper and handed that to me, as well. It was a “What major is right for me?” pamphlet. I said thank you and simply left. While he is right — I do need to make my own decisions — his complete lack of any interest in helping GUIDE a student, as his job title suggests, was unpleasant.

1 Thumbs

She Blinded Me With Science! Kind Of.

, , , , , , | Healthy | July 27, 2020

I am an exercise science major. For one of my classes, we have to perform a treadmill test on one student and use the data collected for a lab write-up.

The day of the lab, my class prior to this is also in the exercise science laboratory, so I am sitting in a chair inside when my professor walks in. She asks me to come and help her set up the lab because I did the same lab with the same professor last semester for a different class.

I go in and start to put together the headpiece that will monitor the subject’s breathing. The rest of the small class walks in — only five people — and they stand around talking amongst themselves until the professor asks them who is going to be the subject. They decide to use “nose goes” to determine who the subject will be.

I do not participate because I have gloves on to keep the headpiece sanitary — it goes inside of the subject’s mouth — and I kind of assume I am exempt from this because I am basically setting up the whole lab by myself. The only things that have to be done after this are connecting the headpiece to a tube and writing down the data that a computer collects for us.

The other students don’t care about this and tell me that I have to be the subject because I lost “nose goes.” I agree because I’m not a confrontational person due to my severe anxiety. So, the professor and one other student help me put on the headpiece. As they are putting it on, the professor tells me she is taking off my glasses to get it on, but she’ll put them back on before the test starts. The professor then gets distracted because my heart rate monitor is not working and forgets about my glasses.

This is a very big problem because I am almost legally blind with my glasses, and I try to tell her this, but I can’t speak due to the headpiece. So, they start the treadmill and I quickly realize how bad this is. The treadmill is all black, so I am unable to tell the difference between the belt and the plastic siding. During the first minute of the test, I step too far forward, partway onto the front plastic, and almost trip.

This sends me into panic mode, because I know I am going to fall, hurt myself, and completely embarrass myself by the end of this fifteen-minute test. I try to hold onto the sides of the treadmill for security, but the professor hits my hands away and tells me I can’t do this. So, I start to flap my hands, one of my stims that I use to calm myself when I get incredibly anxious. 

At the three-minute mark, another student holds a paper in front of my face to determine my rating of perceived exertion, or how hard I feel the test is at this point. I try to tell them I can’t see the words on the paper, but they take me gesturing towards the paper as pointing at a specific rating and then tell me not to talk so I don’t mess up the data.

I get seven minutes into the test. My vision is going black and my heart is beating so fast I feel like I’m about to have a heart attack. I later find out that I was way above my maximum healthy heart rate and the test should have been stopped, but the students were not paying any attention to my heart rate so it went unnoticed.

I finally decide that I can no longer go on with the test and give them the indication that I need to stop. My professor asks me to go “one more minute” but then notices my heart rate and tells the other students that I need to get off the treadmill immediately. The test is stopped, the headpiece is removed, and I am able to sit in a chair. I’m shaking and hyperventilating, still feel like I’m about to have a heart attack, and am incredibly embarrassed that I was unable to complete the test and that I’m having a full-blown panic attack in front of my class.

The professor looks over the data and sees the ratings of perceived exertion that were collected when I was wildly gesturing towards the paper. She asks me, “Why did you rate these so low; wasn’t the test hard for you? You were having a hard time.”

I manage to basically hiss out between my gasps for breath, “I couldn’t see. You didn’t give me my glasses back. I’m almost blind.”

The professor shuts up and the other students get me to re-rate the test. After this, I am able to go home, thinking that this will be the end of it.

However, the professor proceeds to mention how I was unable to complete the test every week, assuming it was because I was out of shape, not because I was having a panic attack. This is so embarrassing that I end up having minor panic attacks before I go to this class every day, fearing that she is going to mention it again.

I wish there was some sort of incredible ending to this story where I stood up for myself and yelled at the professor, but due to a certain illness outbreak, I ended up having to complete the class online and did not have to deal with that professor for the rest of the semester.

1 Thumbs