Lecturer Watching 101
May 2nd 2006 12:29
Literature pertaining to the Australian university predatory species known as lecturers are numerous and extensive. Indeed, each fresh lecture is a gamble as the wandering student may be entering into anything ranging from the equivalent of a Ted Hughes standup show to a medieval torture session involving anal impalement (unless, of course, one is partial to that kind of thing).
The average doe-eyed freshman may find themselves captivated by one type of lecturer known as the Flexi-Tongue 2000. Usually bright, young and cocky but often ancient with a mischievous twinkle of the eye completely incongruous with their age, these lecturers consider themselves the epitome of entertainment, often drawing in a fun fact or two to lighten the technical topic at hand. This often causes the student to copy the irrelevant joke into their notebooks as a result of momentum then forget what was being discussed entirely. Beware: The Flexi-Tongue 2000 often adopts quirky assignment habits as a part of their ‘unconventional teaching method’ as well as the lack of printable notes.
On the other hand; woe to those who find themselves in the grasp of the Study Nazi. This particular demographic can be imagined to wield a leather whip and electric cattle prod in hand, monitoring the lecture hall isles for any student who may be devoting less than eternity squared per week to his/her unit of study. The Study Nazi survives on a diet consisting of metal beams and liquid uranium dioxide and enjoys reruns of MASH when idle. The ultimate upside to becoming captive to this fascinating creature is that the student’s forced solid grasp of knowledge almost guarantees a distinction in the final exam, though at the expense of a crooked spine and advanced emaciation.
Particularly worth mentioning, of course, is the Saintly Madonna, one of the most desirable of lecturer species. Made up initially of a female population, these benevolent beings not only post up detailed notes online for the students’ disposal, offer consultation hours during every lunchtime as well as before and after class, but further enhances their benign halo by offering their home and mobile number, pager, 17 email addresses and the name of their current broker to the student who may be in need of their holy guidance. The nemesis to the Saintly Madonna is doubtlessly the League of Invisible Gentlemen, whose only link to their students is the room number of their abandoned office.
As with each institution, one is also bound to find a consistent lecturer type known as the Valium. True to their title, these sleepy eyed fellows have the uncommon knack to induce the soundest of slumber to any student suffering from insomnia like a large log to the cerebral pons. The tools of the Valium’s trade are extensive, ranging from a mono-toned voice or incomprehensible foreign accent to an ancient balding head which reflects sunlight to produce hypnotic spectral patterns on the tutorial room wall. A wise advice to the student who falls prey to their sticky narcoleptic web is to either sit beside an attractive member of the opposite sex or bring a box of tacks to stick into the side of own leg at regular intervals to ensure consciousness.
If one has the heart to scrutinize, it would not be difficult to uncover other valuable and rare lecturer species, including the slang doting, flag loving Patriot, the charismatic Charmer whose lecture hall is always crammed full like the North Shore line at 8AM on a weekday, and the Foucault whose lingual habits are drier than a martini and is infested with more jargon than the Oxford Medical Dictionary. But after four long years of university life I have come to realize that at the end of every astute observation, remember to keep in mind that these authoritative figures of the academia are, at heart, curiously adorable idealists who double as custodians to the golden gates of inspiration, despite the fact that some may seem to wield the key a little more soundly than others.
The average doe-eyed freshman may find themselves captivated by one type of lecturer known as the Flexi-Tongue 2000. Usually bright, young and cocky but often ancient with a mischievous twinkle of the eye completely incongruous with their age, these lecturers consider themselves the epitome of entertainment, often drawing in a fun fact or two to lighten the technical topic at hand. This often causes the student to copy the irrelevant joke into their notebooks as a result of momentum then forget what was being discussed entirely. Beware: The Flexi-Tongue 2000 often adopts quirky assignment habits as a part of their ‘unconventional teaching method’ as well as the lack of printable notes.
On the other hand; woe to those who find themselves in the grasp of the Study Nazi. This particular demographic can be imagined to wield a leather whip and electric cattle prod in hand, monitoring the lecture hall isles for any student who may be devoting less than eternity squared per week to his/her unit of study. The Study Nazi survives on a diet consisting of metal beams and liquid uranium dioxide and enjoys reruns of MASH when idle. The ultimate upside to becoming captive to this fascinating creature is that the student’s forced solid grasp of knowledge almost guarantees a distinction in the final exam, though at the expense of a crooked spine and advanced emaciation.
Particularly worth mentioning, of course, is the Saintly Madonna, one of the most desirable of lecturer species. Made up initially of a female population, these benevolent beings not only post up detailed notes online for the students’ disposal, offer consultation hours during every lunchtime as well as before and after class, but further enhances their benign halo by offering their home and mobile number, pager, 17 email addresses and the name of their current broker to the student who may be in need of their holy guidance. The nemesis to the Saintly Madonna is doubtlessly the League of Invisible Gentlemen, whose only link to their students is the room number of their abandoned office.
As with each institution, one is also bound to find a consistent lecturer type known as the Valium. True to their title, these sleepy eyed fellows have the uncommon knack to induce the soundest of slumber to any student suffering from insomnia like a large log to the cerebral pons. The tools of the Valium’s trade are extensive, ranging from a mono-toned voice or incomprehensible foreign accent to an ancient balding head which reflects sunlight to produce hypnotic spectral patterns on the tutorial room wall. A wise advice to the student who falls prey to their sticky narcoleptic web is to either sit beside an attractive member of the opposite sex or bring a box of tacks to stick into the side of own leg at regular intervals to ensure consciousness.
If one has the heart to scrutinize, it would not be difficult to uncover other valuable and rare lecturer species, including the slang doting, flag loving Patriot, the charismatic Charmer whose lecture hall is always crammed full like the North Shore line at 8AM on a weekday, and the Foucault whose lingual habits are drier than a martini and is infested with more jargon than the Oxford Medical Dictionary. But after four long years of university life I have come to realize that at the end of every astute observation, remember to keep in mind that these authoritative figures of the academia are, at heart, curiously adorable idealists who double as custodians to the golden gates of inspiration, despite the fact that some may seem to wield the key a little more soundly than others.
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