JobSurfer

There was another art professor at my college who drove me nuts, to a lesser extent than the one mentioned previously. This one I loved to hate. He was a good artist, but he was a jackass. He was a fairly good teacher, but inconsistent in his assistance. (“Great painting!” he said at the critique. “A good start,” he wrote on his grade sheet.)

He taught the other required senior class, the senior exhibition. We took over the campus’ art galleries and filled them with our work. It was a pretty cool experience. But by then I was a second semester senior with three and a half years of art department aggravation behind me.

Oftentimes during this class we would discuss the policies and direction of the department, and it was during these times we would clash horribly. I would lambaste certain practices as unfair and subjective; he would interrupt and change the subject. I would ask a pointed question about a policy, and he would dance around the answer then disallow any follow-up questions.

Was I the type to put up with this kind of behavior? No? Oh, you know me so well!

One fine day while I was in the middle of lambasting him for having an unfair and biased grading policy, he broke in and tried to steamroll over me. I looked at him, I pointed my finger at him, and I said to him, “No. I am speaking, you are interrupting, and it’s very rude. Stop it.”

And he stopped.

Should I have been worried that I was mouthing off to a person who could prevent me from graduating with just one little failed class? Perhaps. I’m not very sensible when I’m all riled up. But I did have a point – interrupting is rude – and he knew it. Did it teach him anything? Probably not.

 Did it teach me anything?

Probably not.