When I walked onto the campus of the local community college for the first time there was a since of calm and peacefulness. The grounds were well maintained; the crystal clear windows of the buildings reflected the sun like mirrors. Every aspect of the campus was new and inviting. The students walked to and from their various destinations in a leisurely manor; indeed, it was a far cry from the fast – paced atmospheres of many four year colleges and universities. I stood in place and took in my surroundings. I had no idea of the nightmare that was in store; my academic experience would be sheer turmoil.
As I walked toward the Governor’s Building nothing appeared out of the ordinary. I entered the main lobby doors and headed for the elevator, my destination, classroom 230. I continued down a hallway filled with students; I made a right turn and entered the room. I turned on the lights and took a look around. Classroom 230 was uninviting and in disarray. The tables were lined against the walls and the chairs were scattered about the room. The lighting was dim and the temperature felt like a 30 below winter night. On the whiteboard there appeared to be hieroglyphical scribbling etched in faded black marker. The only window in the entire room was viewless.
I took a seat and other students began to enter the room. We chat among ourselves and wait for the instructor, Mr. Kappa, to arrive. Although we appeared to be a very diverse group, we all had one unified expectation for the course. It was unanimous; we all wanted this experience to go smoothly and be over quickly. In addition, it would help if the instructor had a positive attitude and did not make the class too difficult. Most students dread the instructor that prides him or herself on being the toughest in the department. We continued to laugh and talk; however, we had no idea that the experience we would share this semester was no laughing matter.
Mr. Kappa entered the room and everyone became silent. He walked up to the podium and introduced himself. “My name is Jack Kappa; Mr. Jack or Mr. Kappa will do”. “This is English 101”. His face was expressionless; his demeanor supercilious. “I am a writer. This is my part-time job”. In the mist of his monotone prelude; I looked around the class. The students’ were focused and their faces were emotionless. Then I heard, “I have no problem giving all A’s, but I also do not have a problem giving all F’s”. “If you are struggling and do not understand; you may want to drop the class, but I encourage you to keep coming if you drop”. Are you...