In Which I Get Mad

Talk to the (fluffy, adorable) paw...

Tonight in class I got mad. At someone else. At a classmate. And I raised my hand and went for it. This person (actually, a whole lab table) was wasting time (a lot of time, like 45 minutes) going over each test question and bargaining over whether to keep the question in or throw it out. Not to mention being pretty disrespectful. I couldn't take it. It's not my favorite class of all time, but I'm enjoying it and I think the professor is a good guy and obviously doing his best to give us all a fighting chance (extra credit, etc.). But it wasn't even about the professor, it was about the gall of taking up all this class time (and putting us behind in lecture schedule) to argue over maybe a total of 6 or 8 points (out of 1000 points in the class!). I mean, really. That's what talking to the prof after class or during the break is for. Not to mention, grow up.

So finally my hand shot up, and, as professionally, calmly and logically as I could, I expressed my opinion that I was frustrated with the amount of time being taken up over this discussion, not to mention that I didn't understand what all the fuss was about because hello, it's Physiology. It's supposed to be hard! And you would think that by the fourth test, you would start to figure out how to study for it. I didn't say that, but I certainly insinuated it.

Then it was time for break and I went outside and trembled for a while (I was pretty mad). Some classmates came out and said they were glad I spoke up (which made me feel better). I dont usually cause a fuss or speak out, but I definitely do when I think it's necessary, and I really felt like I needed to say something tonight. I don't care if now I'll get dirty looks for the rest of the class -- sometimes you just have to put yourself out there.

I felt like my old self (anyone who went to high school with me will know what I mean). I think I'll do it more often.