Subjectivity

I have to remind myself that when it comes to writing, everything, in every way, is open to interpretation. What is appealing and makes sense to one doesn’t necessarily appeal or make sense to another. But then the other is a professor who obviously isn’t above making digs at sub-par students as he prepares the class for the next lesson, well, subjectivity goes right out the window.

Guess where I lie on this pretty prismatic picture.

I’m not going to whine. I’m not married to this guy, though I am depended on pleasing him for a grade. But that’s what bugs me. I have to please him. Read his mind. I don’t mind that he’s the type who won’t reveal technical communication “truths” straight out, but wants us, instead, to come upon them ourselves so we can figure out the why as well as the what. What I do mind is that if we step off the path he’s pre-beaten for us, he’s there with a subtle, yet snide reprimand.

I bite my tongue. I continue as best I can in this class, knowing full well It’ll take a miracle to please Professor Poophead. That, in five years, only one student “understood” the point of his first exercise in the class paints a picture of a guy who really doesn’t want students to learn, but one of a guy who wants to show off what he knows and why he knows it, without really telling anyone about it. Maybe my attitude toward this professor and this class will change in the future, as these “truths” become more self-evident. But I doubt it.

I already know I don't know a lot of things. I think that's a pretty obvious reason I'm in this masters program. But I resent a professor who laughs it up at students who don't know.