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09 September 2005

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Bleak Mouse

Returning to the (original) 1970s, I hated contributing in class -- partly because I wasn't paying good cash money to learn my own opinions, with which I was already familiar; and partly because class comments were nearly invariably embarrassingly stupid, and I didn't wish to add to the clutter. Also, in truth, because I enjoyed being thought an unlettered punk by the instructor -- until I turned in the first paper.

There were situations in which I could not remain silent, though. One was when a question would be asked to which I knew the answer, and the instructor refused to simply move on, while the class exchanged bewildered stares. Once the question, in a History of Science class no less, was, "Does anyone know anything about Charles Darwin?" I thought surely, SURELY, someone must have an inkling, but the tension became too great, and at last I delivered myself of a five-minute impromptu discourse. The teacher smiled afterwards, and said, "What he said." And in a history class in which I was the sole non-major, we read the early novel Simplicissimus. The prof was having trouble getting any comments whatsoever, and finally asked, "Has anyone here read any novels?" Lord help me, there was total silence. I ended up comparing S. with other early novels, such as Don Quixote and Robinson Crusoe.

Then there were the catchprase idiots -- the Hum. kids, I guess. In an 18th Century Philsophy class, one inevitable dullard used to begin the discussion of any question whatsoever with "Marx says--" Another would always ask the supremely irrelevant question, "Isn't this sexist?" and then proceed to interject a laborious personal tale of her tribulations "as a woman." I would become frustrated and attempt to give some sense of perspective. Another Hum. kid would always look thoughtful and comment, "He's right. You can't really blame 18th century white males for being ignorant of what we know now." With friends like these...

My brother's favorite catchphrase in college was one I'd experienced but didn't recognize until he pointed it out -- the kid who raises his hand, leans back, and expounds, "What Aristotle/Gibbon/Shakespeare/whomever is TRYING to say here is..."

Doesn't seem to me that you're meeting your own criterion for Hum kid, though, Misspent -- the promiscuous use of the catchphrase. It even sounds as though you had something to SAY.

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