Something happened to me in class Tuesday – quite unique. I’m still puzzled at how I should have reacted.
Both of my classes this semester have been very difficult, but I’ve put forth an effort not seen during my previous collegiate career. As I’ve said before, school means a whole lot more to me this time around. I’m more mature now, I understand why I’m doing it, I see the value it provides, and I’m actually paying for it. Some of my classmates are not the most focused, and as such are not likely putting up the best effort. I can also understand that viewpoint – I was there myself and then some.
This time around I find myself sympathizing for our professor, thanks to my different vantage point. He is an intelligent individual with a deep understanding of the material, and he presents from both an academic and a professional position to give the material relevance. As we discuss different topics and concepts, I find myself flashing back to my 40-hour gig and either recognizing a similar problem I’ve faced or seeing how the discussion can be applied. I then look around and see bored, disinterested faces, and when the professor is out of the room I hear complaints about “what’s the point of this?” or “this is stupid.”
Anyway, there are other students who either (a) work just as hard or (b) have this material come naturally to them. Myself and this group are probably putting forth the highest grades in the class. Here comes the situation.
Before the discussion starts, our professor asks us to allow him to have one of his little quirks. He then starts talking about some of the inspirational books he’s read (focused around Jonathan Livingston Seagull) which leads into into his teaching career, which then leads into a few sentences about how he is motivated to keep teaching by the students he has who put forth the effort to perform. At this point, he recognizes the student who sits beside of me as one of his inspirational students (legitimately – this kid is a bit off sequence in the curriculum schedule and is performing quite admirably) and gives him a copy of Seagull – which has an envelope sticking out.
He then proceeds to recognize three other students – myself being one – who provide him that motivation he speaks of and proceeds to hand us books/envelopes as well (I get The Alchemist, while the other two get Old Man and The Sea). Inside I am both pleased and uncomfortable at the same time. Everyone likes recognition for a job well done, but I am also a person who likes to blend in and am uncomfortable in the spotlight. My comfort level shrinks a bit more when I open the envelope, which contains a fresh Jackson – $20.
On the one hand I suppose it is a reward for a job well done, since had I performed exceptionally in my work like I had in class I would likely be up for a bonus. On the other, this professor has helped me find expanded wisdom and guidance to (a) help me do my job better and (b) provided alternative analysis tools that can help diffuse more situations than just working ones. There was no need for financial giving too…no matter how token. There’s also a perception of favoritism. Still, I’ve met after-hours at bar or restaurants with other professors leading student groups who have picked up the food or bar tab, so I suppose it’s no different.
The big picture remains that with 35% of the total points given out for both classes, I’ve got A’s in each – classes where A’s are few and far between and the grading is super tough. $20 bucks is not nearly as uncomfortable as a C.
