Friday, January 13, 2006

Question Girl

She is in both of my classes this semester. My friend from last semester and I have named her Question Girl. She is that student who sits right in the front, right under the instructor and asks a question every 45 seconds. Then when we are on our own working on lab assignments (this is a course that is all about using a mapping software program) she asks her questions out loud, the anyone. And people answer her so she will shut the fuck up. Our class is a computer lab and the workstations are in three rows with an aisle up the middle. The rows are tiered so that each rox has good visibility to the front of the room. Question girl sits right in front of my in one class and I get the extra pleasure of seeing her plumber's crack and fat rolls that are squeezed out by her bra that is too small and her jeans that are too low and too small.

I make every effort to hide behind my large flat screen monitor in class and work on my stuff as if I don't know what is going on and would be of no help to anyone. Question Girl overheard me talking to my friend who sits next to me, I was telling him about how I almost ended up teaching one of the courses he is taking this semester and how funny that would have been. She whipped around...."You teach here?" I explained that I had not as of yet, but hope to in the near future. She then questioned me about my background, wondering how it was I was qualified to teach at the university. I tried to dodge the question, but I ended up mentioning that I had my master's degree from the computer science department. And then it started....

She turned around and asked me question after question after question about the lab we were suppose to be doing. It was a very easy lab, normally the first ones are. This dip-shit couldn't even open the file she was suppose to use for the lab. Now I understand that some people don't have a lot of computer skills, and that is fine. But this is an upper-level course, she should know how to open a file by now.

I answered her questions concisely and tried not to lead her to believe I was friendly in the hope that she would think I was a total bitch and not talk to me anymore. In my head I was thinking..."Shut the fuck up for the love of God. Read the fucking instructions before you ask me how to do it. Read your textbook dumbass, the information is there. And if you don't know what Google is by now, I can't help you. Your dumb ass is lost to the GIS world."


At 11:29 PM, Anonymous Brianne said...

I KNOW this girl! She went to my high school, and was in my Math Anal classes.
She was hopelessly lost when we were trying to do proofs. "Given a=b+1, prove this that or the other... blah blah." So you'd work the proof around, then substitute "b+1" every time you saw an "a", QED. But not for her. "Mr Pogreba? Why did you do that?" "Do what?" "How do you know what A is?" "Because it's given in the opening statement" "But last time A was B/2?!?"

He had a tool for these situations. He went calmly to his desk, and pulled out an ornate silver spoon, and placed it carefully on her desk, then went back to the chalkboard, and ignored the rest of her question. Her hand shot immediately up. "What's this for?" "Well, if I'm going to spoon-feed you all the way through high school, I thought you might want the spoon."


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