The last time I remembered a dream was several years ago. I don't know why. Some people do remember their dreams, and I envy them. It must be fun to recall dreams. Even better are vivid dreams in which the mind assumes conscious control. Due to my dream deficiency, I stretch the definition of dream to encompass the waking time just before sleep, when I am lying in bed thinking.
Last night, I dreaded a possibility that a particular student in my class might be unbalanced enough to do harm to himself or others. I was put to mind of atrocities on other American campuses where a crazy student (or, sadder to say, professor) took a firearm to class. Sometimes, I get a bad feeling about a person. I sense that there is a dark cloud hanging over them. But that feeling does not translate into any specific premonition. It is not magic, but based upon the manner in which a person interacts with others and whether they observe basic social rules of etiquette and consideration for others. In this specific case, there is not enough evidence, other than a bad feeling. I know it is easy to confuse "little bit crazy" with "full-blown crazy." Not all crazy people are dangerous. Crazy people tend to be frightened of others, actually. They understand the actions of rational people no better than we understand their actions. From their point of view, they are just doing their thing. From our point of view, their thing is eccentric and annoying. Who is correct? That is a matter of contention, but for now, the rational people hold sway. Naturally, I prefer to number myself among the rational.
This student has difficulty in adhering to basic social norms, such as not speaking when the professor is lecturing. He is forever rattling on about one thing or the other to his discredit, describing past events that portray him in a most unfavorable light, although he thinks otherwise (delusions of grandeur), thinking himself a great adventurer and extrovert, and hoping that we should perceive him in those terms. He is a most deluded fellow. My diagnosis is garden variety bipolar disorder. All that he says destroys any possibility that anyone with sense should have a good opinion of him. He even tapped out a text message on his cell phone during the lecture, resulting in an audible, high-pitched beeping noise for each of the letters of the message.
Our professor is new, meek, and sweet, and seems incapable of making the necessary rebuke, which is a common defect in newly minted teachers, who are afraid of offending anyone. Also, she is black, and the student is white, although race is not the foremost issue here. As a matter of fact, the white students disapprove of the behavior of the rude white student. It is very much taboo to be disrespectful of a teacher.
I found myself growing angry at the rudeness, but said nothing, because there was a fear that I might overstep and say too much. Also, it was not my place to say anything, but the professor's. However, I had a fantasy of taking him by the collar and dragging him out of the classroom, kicking and screaming, and telling him to go home, since he did not want to learn and was not willing to let the other students learn either. But I doubted that vigilantism would have been appreciated by anyone. The rude student is a frail-looking man. I might seem to be a bully. Besides, he may own a gun to compensate for his physical inferiority. Robert Heinlein once wrote, "Never beat a small man. He'll kill you." There is something to that advice. I don't want to make any enemies. I've got enough to deal with just getting through school. Order in the classroom is customarily the responsibility of the professor, though in this case, the professor lacks the courage to enforce order.
During a study session in the library, a group of students, including myself, confronted the rude student and told him in polite and general terms that he needed to remain quiet while the professor was speaking. We explained that we wished to hear what was said in order to pass the class. Also, the professor might treat the entire class with a harsh bias, if she felt the class were disrespectful. He took offense, claiming, "you all hate me, just like the others!" (I don't know who "the others" are and did not wish to ask.) He insisted that he knew more than the professor. She was a know-nothing, while he was extremely smart, he said. He described himself as a "type-A personality," which tempted me to ask what the "A" stood for, but I held my peace. After each person in our group repeated the same general observation, he promised to remain silent during the class. I sensed he was lying, but held my peace. I am of the opinion he lies on a regular basis and has difficulty distinguishing between fact and fiction. Much of what he says about himself has the distinct aroma of bull manure. He is very poor at evaluating the motives and reasoning of other people.
In the classroom, I changed my seat, moving further away from him, as he was in the habit of turning around to talk to me during the lecture. He considered me his buddy, because I had been friendly in the beginning, as I am with everyone that I meet. He was unaware of ever having caused any offense through his remarks or behavior.
I had made the mistake early on of talking to him and giving him attention, a grievous error. I am a friendly person by nature, reluctant to ignore people who are looking into my eyes and talking to me. Anyone who says anything to him or maintains eye contact encourages frequent, lengthy, and interminable conversations about the most inane topics that amuse his disordered mind. He has a vile habit of invading the personal space of his listeners, touching them in inappropriate ways. For instance, upon learning that I had made the highest grade in the class on the last exam, he made a derisive remark, which I took in stride, but then flicked a hand toward my face. His fingertip scratched my cheek, causing me to wince, and I did not like that. He also warned me that if I upset the "Bell Curve" of the test scores, he would find out where I live and break one of my windows. I said, "Bring it on." I did not like his remark. I was unsure of whether he was joking. He made an enemy that day, though he showed no awareness of his wrong. The possibility that he might have been serious filled me with wrath, which smoldered and increased the longer that I considered the implications. It is remarkable that he has survived to be thirty-something. Perhaps his mental illness is of recent origin.
Before the last test, I had shared tips with him, based upon my long hours studying, that resulted in his scoring ten points higher than he otherwise would have earned, which he recognized later, remarking, "Hey, you know, I take back all of what I said before. You helped me. I scored ten points higher because of you. You know, I guess I won't be breaking your window after all." This remark was just as foolish as the last. I did not like being reminded that I had helped him in a substantial manner. Foolish generosity! I had failed to evaluate the individual I was helping and had helped a viper. I would much preferred he had scored the "B" he deserved. It was impossible from this point on that I would ever help him again.
I moved away to remove his temptation, but also to reduce my annoyance. The sight, sound, and smell of him was repulsive. He was not easy on the eyes, smelled like an ashtray, being a chain-smoker of menthol cigarettes, and his incessant talking grated on the nerves. Had I remained nearby, the professor might have assumed I was his buddy, being of the same race, and I did not want that. I realized the other black students had drawn the same incorrect assumption, that he and I were buddies. It is common for people to group others together by race. By moving away, I isolated him, which resulted in an unexpected dividend, much to my satisfaction.
The black students were particularly offended by the white student's rudeness to a black professor, which is understandable. I think that if they had known just how angry I was, and the sort of things I had been thinking about, then they would have been surprised.
A black female student in the class became my heroine. She asked a question of the professor, and when the professor's reply was obscured by more talking from the rude student, she said in a loud and angry voice, "Excuse me, but there is someone in the class who is talking out of turn. Someone in the middle of the class, on the third row, who is very rude and inconsiderate to the rest of the class. Someone who insists on talking while the professor is talking. A very rude person."
Everyone in the class knew who she was talking about. No one stirred. The silence was deafening. I wanted to cheer, but contented myself with a wide smile. The rude student did not turn around or respond in any way, but kept his head down. I think the rebuke was effective, because he did quiet down a bit. The professor pretended nothing had happened, but I was sure that this had pleased her. She answered the question and proceeded with the lecture. However, about ten minutes later, I noticed she was smiling much broader and more frequently. Also, she remarked on how much she liked our class. Her meaning was clear. I was pleased. The student body had policed itself in an effective manner, at least on that occasion.
I remain watchful of the rude student who seems to have trouble controlling his own behavior. This is the first time I have encountered a bad apple in the student body, which has otherwise been represented well in my experience. I hope that nothing worse comes out of the situation. However, I cannot be concerned with events beyond my control or foresight. If others make mistakes, then that is to their discredit. I intend to remain blameless. My choice is to hope for the best and do the best I can. I will always be on the side of those that are good, and it pleases me to see good people prevail.
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