Me and My Big...

Speak no evil!

1. I needed to see my students in Intro to Adver. I owed them the “Mixes” lecture and the prelim exam was just the following week. Having found the room they were in, I entered and looked around, trying to find the person assigned to have the readings photocopied. I could not remember his name, but I knew how he looked and behaved. Curly hair in spikes (Yes, it is possible) and the matching clownish demeanor. But there were so many of them. So I had to ask, “Sino nga ba yung may… may sayad?” (Who among you is the looney one?) They all looked at me and then looked among themselves. Many of them were snickering. Still others were in awe. I thought that the question would surely be left unanswered. Who would admit to such a thing? Thus, while the class was in a lull, I tried to remember the name. But then, lo and behold, a student raised his hand and said with pride, “that’s me, Ma’am! What do you want me to do?” I tried to control the laughter that wanted to burst out of me. And while I was doing that, I realized that in this section, even the geekiest one can be counted on to perform a task. Okay, I’m kinda proud of them.
2. No mentioning of sections. One member of this sophomore section approached me one day and asked for the hard copy of the Romanticism lecture. He was not able to download it due to technical difficulties mainly caused by the Taiwan quake and I realized that most of my students were not able to download it, too. So, I asked the student (Let’s call him Boy #1.) who approached me to have the readings photocopied for the whole class and give it to the leader of the other section which was also taking art history under me. He looked sort of hesitant. Not being used to getting this type of reaction from anyone, I had to pry. “Okay,” I said. “Why the glum look?” The student answered, “We’re not really close.” I answered. “You’ll only give this to him. Why do you need to be close?” And he told me something that I cannot tell anyone because they all read my blogs. In the spirit of fairness, curiosity, and all those things we use as a veneer for gossiping, I had to confront the other party (Boy#2). What did he say? The same thing. But the culprit is boy #1. Now, who is telling the truth and who has that defense mechanism called displacement? Attn. Mr. Freud!
3. I was assigned to handle the art history petition class. The students enrolled in it all failed and wanted me to handle their class. They were quite undisciplined when it came to being on time (which should be an intrinsic quality for all those who want to pass my class). But after a few meetings, I was handling them like it was an ordinary class with students conscientious of their duties. I was quite proud. Anyway, last week, I came out smiling because the class was able to finish the activity and they were ALL participative and competitive. When I went inside the faculty room, I was still smiling. Now the most curious among my colleagues was the one who failed all the students in the pet class. “Why the smile?” she asked. “I just finished a session with my pet class,” I answered. While I was walking towards the door to head for home, I heard her laughter which insinuated that I am pissed and was just smiling to control myself. My smile widened.

Something Funny Happened in Class Today

There was an old woman who lived in a shoe.

Fortunately, I am no old woman and we are situated far from Marikina, the country's shoe capital.
I asked my Art History2-2 class to join my Art History 2-8 so I would no longer schedule a make up class for them having missed their regular Tuesday schedule. It was a good thing that room 701 was a big classroom.
I was kinda jittery. It was the first time that I ever joined these two Ace sections together in one session and I thought that the number of questions that would pop up would surely drive me nuts, not to mention the occasional jokes that the regular clowns would need to crack to complete the day. Questions were sometimes relevant. But there were those days when their being fidgety matched their mental restlessness. Like that day, coming from the christmas season's long lull. Many of them were still in their vacation mode and were too unfocused.

But, having performed in front of a large audience when I was taking my M.A. in Theatre, I was able to muster enough courage the moment I set foot inside the classroom.

New year, new hair style, new Mac, I thought would buy me peace. But suspended animation lasted for a few seconds. Questions came pouring in even before I could set up the LCD projector.

“Ma’am, did you break up with your boyfriend?”
“I don’t have one.”
“How much is your laptop?”
“Very affordable,” I answered with a grin.
“Why are we so many today?”
“Why did you not attend the Paskuhan? You missed seeing our costumes. I was Darna! Blah! Blah! Blah!”
“Did you win the raffle? Sir Deon did! He won an entertainment set without the TV! Its like videoke without the video. He only won the oke!”
“Okay, everyone. Settle down so we can start.” I nearly busted my lungs on my first sally.”

They all dutifully sat down but the questions did not wane. I had to do something threatening. I could not afford to lose control nor to dismiss the class with an unfinished lesson. Preliminary Examinations would be coming in less than a week. I had no other choice but to dramatically bring out my red pen to signify my readiness to give a demerit to anyone who would interfere with the smooth flow of the discussion.

She had so many children, she didn’t know what to do.

My powerpoint presentation of the Romantic period was embellished with pig pictures to signify the coming year of the pig.

“Ma’am, do you believe in feng shui?”
“Not much. This is my way of wishing you a happy new year.”
I told them that the term Romantic does not just mean love and passion. It means anticlassicist, individualistic, exotic, and emotionally wrought. I also told them that during this time, a number of artists revived King Arthur, Charlemagne, and Alexander the Great.”
“Ma’am, is he really gay?”
“Okay class. I can only give you my personal opinion. First, he and his men were always together, away from home, and in the battle field. Second, they also had needs.”
I was able to breeze through the historical background and social milieu without so much fuzz. Until that Gericault part of the lesson. I showed them the painting The Raft of Medusa and why it was considered a good representative artwork.
“Ma’am, did they find the sunken Medusa?”

She gave them some broth, without any bread.

“Any of you familiar with The Legend of the Sleepy Hollow?”
A good number raised their hands.
“Good, your assignment goes like this…”
I told them to pretend that it would be staged and that their group was commissioned to design the costume, the stage, and the poster of the play.
“Ma’am, will the stage be physical or symbolic?”
“What do you mean physical or symbolic? Why are you asking me that? Shouldn’t you be the one to decide on that?”

She whipped them all soundly and put them to bed.

I told them to discuss the division of work among the group members. But one of them could not take it any longer. She was just like that one Edgar Allan Poe character, she felt that she must scream or die.
“Ma’am, can we take a break? Look, I am having a nosebleed, physical and symbolic!”
Of course, she was joking.