Maude here.
Darling readers, you may have read my post “The Redemption of Professor Margarine,” among other posts (1, 2, 3, 4). Now, I’m getting ready and compiling all of my notes to present to the school and to file a complaint.
I survived the worst teacher I’ve ever had and one semester of her verbal butt squirts has finally come to a screeching halt.
Yes, we’ve all learned some great lessons from Marge, but her class has left an indelible stench on my GPA. I took my last quiz from this saggy-titted roast beef and I squeaked by with a “B.” A FUCKING “B.” Not an “A.” No, there is no wondrous life lesson in this blog post. There was no heartfelt hallelujah chorus playing or me, having some kind of metaphysical revelation about the imperfection and mystery of humanity… because this time, that “B” grade was NOT, and I mean NOT, my fault.
I had a tutor sit with me as I was taking my last quiz of the semester, blessedly online, so I wouldn’t be tempted to go absolutely apeshit in the middle of class. Frankly, I needed a witness to see (from an unbiased perspective) the kind of crap we’ve all had to put up with during the Fall 2014 semester. What my tutor and I gleaned from this experience was that Marge had probably cheated her way through 3rd grade english composition. Misspellings, fragmented sentences, and a very real denial of the difference between opinion versus fact riddled the online quiz. It was almost unintelligible at times. With the help of the tutor, I managed to score a perfect “F” on my first of two attempts. (We were given two attempts per quiz and the computer would automatically choose the higher score.) I think my tutor was in shock, because he kept repeating, “This can’t be right. No. That’s not an actual sentence.” I agree, dude. We know. The entire class has been in utter disbelief of the eclectic “teaching style” that Marge brings to the table.
Here are the evil twists:
1. When the quiz is automatically graded, it doesn’t show you what the correct answers are, so it’s not exactly a teachable moment, per se. (Also, the instructor has control over how each quiz is set up and has the option to reveal the correct answer.) Even if the right answers were revealed, when you go for a second attempt at the quiz, you’re given entirely new questions in a new, random sequence.
2. The entire quiz is open-book, so if a topic is not IN the textbook, it shouldn’t be relevant to our studies. The catch with the relevance issue is that most of the questions we encountered on this quiz (during both attempts) cited information that was not in our textbook, in a lecture, or in our online or in-class content at all.
The obvious result was that I spent most of the 40 minutes allotted for each quiz attempt GUESSING for what Marge wanted to see instead of using actual facts and figures to understand the course material.
As you all know from reading “Redemption” I still totally get that Marge is a human being, worthy of all of the fabulous opportunities and consideration that we all should be afforded… but as a teacher, her version of class instruction is akin to a dusty queef. Her lecture style is like sitting through an obnoxious conversation on public transport and her train of thought is constantly derailed. She’s identical to that one person you ALWAYS meet (and try to avoid) on the bus that rambles on and on with no real point, other than to annoy the living piss out of you. She is a TERRIBLE teacher. She is an affront to the word “terrible” for that matter. Most of all, if we’ve all learned anything from my own ramblings, it’s that Marge should not be a teacher OR a PhD in her field of study.
With that, tomorrow I’m waking up bright and early to stroll into the admin building and present my case to anyone who will meet with me over this matter. The school should be embarrassed that they allowed someone like this to prance around their halls and call themselves a college-level instructor. It’s insulting to the teachers out there trying to make a difference and it’s offensive that anyone would put this intellectual toilet-bowl-of-a-woman to work in an academic institution. It’s the principle of the matter. Though I’ll obviously never have her as a teacher again, I do not want some other unwitting student to be stuck with her.
Goodbye, Professor Margarine. I hope you have a pleasant retirement and you come back as a stink bug in your next lifetime.
– THE FUCKING END –
Ermahgerd Perterters 