Thursday, June 08, 2006

Mike v. Professor, Part 2

Part 1

It all started during the third week of class. On that Tuesday, we were going over some assigned cases, and I was sticking to my usual strategy of sitting in the back, laying low, and hoping to get by undetected. The professor called out the name of another case, and said, in an exaggerated tone, almost like a carnival barker, “Mr. [Mike]…Is there a Mr. [Mike] in the house…Are you here, Mr. [Mike]?” I don’t know if he was trying to be funny or folksy or what, but it came out awkwardly, and once he was done grandstanding, I raised my hand and quickly explained what I knew about the case, which I had skimmed earlier during class. My explanation satisfied him, and sent him off on a 15 minute tangent about an unrelated topic while I sat back in my seat, knowing I was safe from being called on for a while. Or so I thought.

The next time class met was on Thursday, and since I had been called on the previous meeting, I naturally didn’t prepare. I was sitting in my usual back row seat, engaged in a few IM conversations and a game of Text Twist, when all of the sudden, I heard the carnival barker shout my name again. I was a bit surprised that he was calling on me, but at the same time, I didn’t really care. Once he was done with his silly name game and asked me to explain the case, without looking up from my laptop screen, I told him, “Sorry, I didn’t read it.” I expected him to move on to someone else, but instead, he decided to try and embarrass me. “Bad, Mr. [Mike]….Baaaad,” as if he was speaking to a misbehaving puppy. And his tone was no longer the jovial carnival barker, but took on a more serious nature. When he was finished scolding me, instead of letting it go, my high school class clown instincts took over and I responded. “Yeah well, it happens to the best of us,” I said to him, dismissively. He glared at me for a second, and I glared right back. This would be the beginning of our conflict.

Over the next month, he called on me at least once per class. It wasn’t always to explain a case; sometimes he threw a random question my way, other times asking for my opinion. But regardless of the purpose for calling on me, on thing became clear in my mind: This was his was of exacting revenge for my previous lack of preparation. If I knew the answer or read the case, I participated. If I didn’t or hadn’t, I said so. And if he tried to embarrass me, I would make a disrespectful comment towards him. (Who says I have to be mature?)

For as smart as law students are purported to be, some have a very difficult time determining if a professor is good or not. A few people have told me that all a professor has to do is “not be mean”, and he or she will garner their respect and affection. My Entertainment Law professor fell into this category for some. Between his jovial (yet fake) demeanor and quasi-former celebrity, he could have sat in the front of the room and ate a can of beans, and some people would adore him. But the smarter people who take him recognize him for what he is: Simply put, a bad professor, and nothing represents his incompetence more than his final exam.

Part Three coming next week.