For the past few weeks, 3inone has been bugging me about writing a post about something that happened in MCC. She herself has set the standard and has written quite a few. College sure was fun and there is plenty to write about, but I just keep putting it off. So anyway, here I am, writing about one of those days in MCC.
Five years is a long time to be studying in MCC, or any college for that matter. When I entered my final year of BA, I had no idea that I would be coming back for my MA. I hardly attended classes much in my first two years as I preferred the comfort of my room and my bed. Attendance rules were much relaxed back then and it was easy to get away. Towards the middle of my third and final year, I thought that maybe I should be in class more often. It could be fun after all and what if I was actually missing out on something.
My class was a really interesting mix. Now for those of you who have passed through MCC, will know that the department of Philosophy is absolutely not the most sought after department. It isn't even close. So anyway, the actual strength was close to 45, but on an average not more than 20 showed up each day. This was because the majority of them were sportsmen and they did not need to actually attend class. They just needed to be registered with some department and could go about doing their stuff. So, even after three years, I had not met half of my classmates. From among the remaining group, half of them never talked or asked questions. They just came, listened, took notes and left. It is difficult to be in a philosophy class and not engage in any sort of conversation. The rest of the class consisted of two guys who were always high, one guy who looked like he had just returned from a long penance in the Himalayas, one tall and handsome guy from Sri Lanka who was brilliant, one exceptional guitarist from Nagaland who was also brilliant, and another guy who always sat with me in the back and cracked jokes about the professors and their pronunciations. He too had started coming to class only in his last year. The seven of us did talk in class and try to engage in some level of discussion. Most of them were genuine discussions and some of us, including me would bring up some topic just so that we could have some fun, or hear the funny way in which some professors pronounced certain words.
One of the professors we had was really new and he had not taught a class before and he was teaching us the class on World Religions. It was quite evident that he was not well versed in that subject. We gave him trouble and he would literally sweat when any one started talking or raised their hands. On more than one occasion, he would give us a free hour. He just wouldn't teach and would let us go, which we were more than glad to do. He would of course continue with his class if none of the talkers were present in class. One fine day he walks in and he spots all seven of us sitting in class. Not a good day for him. He begins lightly with some casual talk and then announces that it was going to be a free hour. The seven of us decided that we would go to the cafeteria and sip on some tea and hang out there and be back for the next class. We finished our tea and our conversations and decided that we would go back to class as we did not want to be late for the next class. All seven of us walk into class ten minutes before it gets over, and guess what? The very same guy who gave us a free hour, was standing right in front with chalk and book in hand, taking his class. In front of him were the other half of the class who sat motionless like any other day. He saw us at the entrance and let out a sheepish smile, folded his book, dropped the chalk and walked out with a smile.
Looking back, I can imagine how hard it must have been for him to have been doing what he was doing. I couldn't imagine teaching a class and worse still, I couldn't imagine being asked questions. To have none of us in class that day would have been a dream come true for him. It would have probable been his best day at work, until we walked in.
Five years is a long time to be studying in MCC, or any college for that matter. When I entered my final year of BA, I had no idea that I would be coming back for my MA. I hardly attended classes much in my first two years as I preferred the comfort of my room and my bed. Attendance rules were much relaxed back then and it was easy to get away. Towards the middle of my third and final year, I thought that maybe I should be in class more often. It could be fun after all and what if I was actually missing out on something.
My class was a really interesting mix. Now for those of you who have passed through MCC, will know that the department of Philosophy is absolutely not the most sought after department. It isn't even close. So anyway, the actual strength was close to 45, but on an average not more than 20 showed up each day. This was because the majority of them were sportsmen and they did not need to actually attend class. They just needed to be registered with some department and could go about doing their stuff. So, even after three years, I had not met half of my classmates. From among the remaining group, half of them never talked or asked questions. They just came, listened, took notes and left. It is difficult to be in a philosophy class and not engage in any sort of conversation. The rest of the class consisted of two guys who were always high, one guy who looked like he had just returned from a long penance in the Himalayas, one tall and handsome guy from Sri Lanka who was brilliant, one exceptional guitarist from Nagaland who was also brilliant, and another guy who always sat with me in the back and cracked jokes about the professors and their pronunciations. He too had started coming to class only in his last year. The seven of us did talk in class and try to engage in some level of discussion. Most of them were genuine discussions and some of us, including me would bring up some topic just so that we could have some fun, or hear the funny way in which some professors pronounced certain words.
One of the professors we had was really new and he had not taught a class before and he was teaching us the class on World Religions. It was quite evident that he was not well versed in that subject. We gave him trouble and he would literally sweat when any one started talking or raised their hands. On more than one occasion, he would give us a free hour. He just wouldn't teach and would let us go, which we were more than glad to do. He would of course continue with his class if none of the talkers were present in class. One fine day he walks in and he spots all seven of us sitting in class. Not a good day for him. He begins lightly with some casual talk and then announces that it was going to be a free hour. The seven of us decided that we would go to the cafeteria and sip on some tea and hang out there and be back for the next class. We finished our tea and our conversations and decided that we would go back to class as we did not want to be late for the next class. All seven of us walk into class ten minutes before it gets over, and guess what? The very same guy who gave us a free hour, was standing right in front with chalk and book in hand, taking his class. In front of him were the other half of the class who sat motionless like any other day. He saw us at the entrance and let out a sheepish smile, folded his book, dropped the chalk and walked out with a smile.
Looking back, I can imagine how hard it must have been for him to have been doing what he was doing. I couldn't imagine teaching a class and worse still, I couldn't imagine being asked questions. To have none of us in class that day would have been a dream come true for him. It would have probable been his best day at work, until we walked in.
Hilarious! Lemme guess. Prof. Jojan Job?
ReplyDeleteYeah, was it Jojan? He was the one that came to mind, even though I know he was teaching the communications program.
ReplyDelete