This Guy Is Worse Than “Red Asphalt”

, , , , , , | Learning | July 29, 2020

When I was in high school, our school offered a driver’s ed course. It was a classroom-only course to learn the rules of the road; there was no practical driving in an actual vehicle. I’m convinced that the teacher they’d chosen for this class hated teenagers. Why he was teaching in a high school, I’ll never know.

On the very first day of class, he told us all that he “believed that no teenager should ever drive a car” and that his own teenage son was forbidden from taking a driver’s ed course until [Teacher] was satisfied with how much he knew about driving. I always wondered how the poor kid was expected to learn enough to satisfy his dad without taking any classes. 

Throughout the class, the teacher would tell us graphic stories about what would happen if we drank and drove, used our phone while driving, or even had the radio on in the car. Here are some of my favorites.

He described getting into a car accident and getting thrown through the windshield because, of course, we aren’t wearing seatbelts. This one included a handout with a graphic play-by-play of the horrific damage done to your body from one moment to the next. 

He described taking a run turn too quickly on a motorcycle, losing control, and crashing into a cornfield. In this particular lovely scenario, both of our legs are broken, so it takes three days to drag ourselves back to the road so anyone can see us to rescue us. I’m not sure how far into this hypothetical cornfield he imagined we’d be thrown.

By the end of the five-week course, half of the fifteen- or sixteen-year-old students in the class that had been so excited about getting a license were now completely terrified of going anywhere near a vehicle. 

This was a fine example of a teacher with no interest in teaching. He didn’t want teenagers to drive, and he certainly got what he wanted. I don’t think a single one of us felt prepared for behind-the-wheel practice after that class.

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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.

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She Blinded Me With Science! Kind Of.

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

CONTENT WARNING: This story contains content of a medical nature. It is not intended as medical advice.

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.

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This Teacher Gets An F

, , , | Learning | July 24, 2020

Ever wanted the evidence that your teacher is biased? My drawing professor has had it in for me since a routine teacher-parent meeting went pear-shaped. Ever since that meeting, no matter how well I do, my grades are never above a D. We’re given a particularly complex assignment, and I turn in my drawing.

Teacher: “This is not good. You’ll have to redo it.”

Me: “Where is the mistake?”

Teacher: “There is no ‘mistake’. It’s all wrong. You must redo it.”

Being stupid, and knowing the drawing is far from my best effort, I redo it and turn in the new one.

Teacher: “This is wrong again! You’ll have to do another one.”

I’m fed up with the stupid drawing, which is making me neglect other subjects. I ask for my uncle’s help He’s a professional draftsman and he presents me with a beautiful, precise, clean drawing that has very obviously not been made by a high school student. However, I hand it in and the teacher grades it 8+.

A few weeks later…

Classmate #1: “[My Name], remember that drawing assignment we were given? How about you do the assignment for me? I’ll pay you!”

Me: “No, if I have to draw that thing once more, I’m gonna puke. You can have one that I did, but be warned, it’s wrong, so you won’t get a good mark.”

Classmate #1: “Oh, don’t worry about that. Just give it to me.”

She hands in my second, “wrong again” drawing: it’s graded 8. A few weeks later, another classmate, a notorious slacker, asks for my help, too.

Classmate #2: “[My Name], remember that drawing assignment we were given?”

Me: “I do. Five thousand lira. In advance.”

I gave him my first “all wrong” drawing, which I had not binned yet. His grade? 8-. I ended up the year with the non-passing grade of 5, the only one in my class.

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The Rumor Mill Isn’t Broken Down!

, , , , , , , | Learning | July 22, 2020

Years ago, a student locked himself in a windowless supply room accidentally by panicking after the light blew out and hitting the push-lock while trying to open the door. A physics professor saved the day by kicking in the door.

That year…

Sophomore #1: “Did you hear about [Physics Professor]? He kicked a door off its hinges to save a student!”

Other Professor: “It wasn’t that impressive. It was a cheap door.”

One year after…

Sophomore #2: *To a new freshman* “Last year, [Physics Professor] had to rescue a student trapped in a locked room. He knocked the door over with a single kick.”

Two years after…

Freshman: “I heard a story about [Physics Professor]. There was this student stuck in a room, and no one could get the door open, but he looked at the door and worked out where it was weak because of physics and was able to break it down!”

Four years after…

Sophomore #3: “Hey, [My Name]. Were you teaching here when [Physics Professor] had to rescue a student locked in a room? I heard he analyzed door in his head and knocked it off its hinges with a single blow.”

Me: “No, it was a cheap interior door. He just kicked it and it broke.”

Five years after…

Student:so, the story is that [Physics Professor] is looking at this door, and he realizes that because of its shape there’s a single flaw, right, so he smashes it at the perfect spot and it just shatters. [Other Professor in my department] confirmed the story!”

Six years after, the topic of fire doors comes up in a safety lecture, and one professor jokes that we need to leave them open “because we can’t all smash our way through doors” like the physics professor.

Then, the year after that…

Sophomore #4:so, the student’s stuck in a room, the building is on fire, and [Physics Professor] saves the day by analyzing the door…”

Finally, eight years after it happened, the physics professor and I are talking.

Physics Professor: “By the way… one of my new students asked me if it’s true that I used math to break a door and save a room full of students trapped in a burning building. Any idea why?”

Me: “Do you remember [Student] from eight years ago? The story seems to have mutated a bit.”

Physics Professor: “OH. Huh. Well, I told them it was all true.”

This story is part of our July 2020 Roundup – the best stories of the month!

Read the next July 2020 Roundup story!

Read the July 2020 Roundup!

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