Getting schooled at college

Despite the Rottweiler stealing my sheets after land-mining my bed with an assortment of squeaky toys, I managed to sleep in on my Monday off. After finally shuffling into the living room, I curled up in my big chair and prepared for "First Morning Nap" only to be rudely interrupted by Sydney. "You should go to class with me today," she said enthusiastically. "No," I grunted, bundling back up in my blankets. "Awww...c'mon," she insisted, "It'll be fun." I was having trouble compiling a list of things that would be less fun than driving an hour to Buffalo to attend a college class on my day off but as guilt had begun to settle over me like the low-hanging fog that enveloped the road we traveled, I begrudgingly buckled myself in for sixty minutes of moaning and groaning.

Parking on a college campus is just as I remembered and, even better, today was raining and I was wearing cloth sneakers. To brighten my mood, Sydney bustled me in to a campus CVS to ply me with Pepsi, Pringles and peanut M & Ms before we entered the lecture hall. "Why are we sitting in the back," I asked, popping a peanut M & M into my mouth, "you need to be up front where the professor will notice you." Sydney rolled her eyes, explaining that her work is usually scheduled after this class and she has to hustle out of there. To my delight, the professor began slowly working his way up the rows towards us, pausing at each set of students to shake hands. I was all a-twitter, preparing a stunningly memorable introduction and then was devastated when he checked his watch and began class.

"It's like listening to an audio book," Sydney whispered as I listened, enraptured, to him speak of the labors of Hercules. Wielding an over-head projector and barely glancing at the fist-full of yellow legal pad papers grasped in his left hand, his method of teaching was skillfully old-school. When I wasn't busy learning the history of the Fates, I was checking out his 100-member audience. At the 45-minute mark, only ten were sleeping! The boy seated directly ahead of us had to deal with my endless commentary although I managed to keep my opinion of his thick necklace to myself except to ask Sydney if she's packed bolt-cutters in her backpack. One dufus came in late, plopping himself down in time to answer what-I'm-sure-must-have-been-a-rhetorical-question of "What is a centaur?" His hand shot up and he eagerly shared his brilliance with the class. "Any one of my fourth graders could have answered that," I observed in disgust while my new bejeweled buddy nodded in conspritorial agreement.

The hour was over in a flash. Disappointed, I got up to leave. I was impressed. No SMARTboard. No video. No flash. No fuss. Just teaching. Listen and learn. Sit and sleep. Your choice. The knowledge was presented but the burden for learning was assigned to the student. Where was the differentiated education? Where were the individualized plans? There was not a single bouncy-ball seat to be seen. I admit it though. I couldn't do it. I famously spend 30-minutes looking for an animated gif of a German Shepherd eating corn-on-the-cob to accentuate a lesson plan. I'm all about the flash and the fuss. If that SMARTboard isn't operational these day...neither am I. But sitting in that lecture hall on my day off, I saw how it could be done and done well. This teacher just got schooled.