Types of campus lecturers
Lecturers come in all shapes, sizes (though the big cylindrical shape seems constant), colours and characters. I have studied them (apparently that’s what I do in class) and here is how I classify them.
These species go by the titles of Dr or Prof so and so. Call them Mr or Mrs and you will get an ‘F’ on your exam! They wear big spectacles and keep long hair and beard. They are a bank of knowledge.
The type that will go to a Mathematics class without a textbook or handout and will teach calculus for three hours, nonstop. However, these people are the worst.
They assume that every Tom, Dick and Harry is an Aristotle; forgetting they’re just Tom, Dick and Harry. So, they teach simple concepts with hard words and leave everybody floating.
This species really annoys me. They seem to merry when they generously give out ‘Es’ in exams. They will teach you the simplest concepts in class and bring the hardest ones in exams.
They will come to a class and tell you 1+4=5. Later in the exams you will see; ‘If I had four mangoes, and I ate three and gave out one, calculate the sun’s mass!’
As y’all knock your heads silly in the exam room, the sadists, out of sheer wickedness and malice, will take a strategic position in the exam room and laugh throughout as they await to dish out the ‘Es’.
Woe unto you if you fall victim of these people. They are the kind that speaks out vehemently while showering their slime all over.
If you took a front seat in their class, then be ready to take a shower and get soaked in human slime.
The tricky part is, you have to smile at them as they spill out their slime on you because you don’t want to create a bad rapport with them.
This is an interesting species. They always have a bank of these perversive stories that they always have a way of dragging them into class.
It may be a class of geometry, but these perverts will twist the story and start telling you how a bisection of ‘a-cute’ angles is not limited to mathematics and before you know it, you are being told of harlots along K-Street.
This lot live in denial that they have aged and strive to look youthful. I am talking of those who shave their eyelashes and draw shapes on their faces and instead of looking like humans, you can mistake them for owls!
While we silently pray for them, may Noah’s flood quench the thirst in those grown men turning up in the campus with sagged jeans and hoods when the sun is seriously baking the earth?
Their cars, usually Mercedes and V8s, come in meticulous colour shades and install loud music systems just for them to fit in the youth category. You will see a sticker, ‘If the music is too loud, then you are too old!’