KENNEDY HALL—Professor Ray Farrow’s 11:00am biology lecture failed to conclude on time today despite a seemingly biblical intervention of frogs and locusts enveloping the auditorium. While the entrapped students pleaded with the course instructor to stop the class at the scheduled time, Professor Farrow could not be dissuaded by the barrage of amphibian interruptions.
“He just kept talking about this ‘really good YouTube video’ that he needed to show,” recalled Sam Levi ‘25, brushing locust limbs off his pant leg. “This thing was six minutes long and I couldn’t hear a word of it between all the croaking and buzzing. Professor Farrow just kept grinning at the screen and saying ‘That’s a really great point.’”
As the locusts began to crawl up Farrow’s tweed jacket, he proclaimed that “the frogs will probably eat the locusts,” and proceeded to the subsequent slide of his PowerPoint presentation. When Farrow’s lecture was momentarily delayed by a torrent of hail falling from the ceiling vent, he promptly sidestepped the new hazard and continued his explanation of the kinesin processive motor.
“I haven’t been on time to my next class once this semester,” said Hannah Lais ‘24. “When the frogs started coming out from under the seats, I was hopeful we might finally get out of here. I don’t think Professor Farrow even noticed, he was too busy trying to see if anyone wanted to ask him a question. No one ever asks any questions. The locusts were useless too, he just kept explaining how the current slide was ‘super critical for the next exam.’ I don’t think he knows how to read a clock.”
The students’ confinement came to an end after all the lights in the room suddenly went out, leaving the auditorium in total darkness and permitting the captives to flee. Professor Farrow then proceeded to present an additional ten lecture slides before graciously dismissing the empty classroom.
BAKER HALL—Students in CHEM 3090: Inorganic Compounds were left cowering in fear this Tuesday as their instructor achieved apotheosis at the close of Cornell’s drop period.
According to witnesses, the class started as normal but quickly went off the rails when Dr. Frederica Jackson locked eyes with Samuel Weiss ‘22, who was attending his first lecture of the semester to see “what those funny numbers on Student Center are all about.” Suddenly, Baker Hall’s seasonal affective disorder-inducing dimness turned to supernatural darkness as all doors to the classroom slammed shut.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” warned Jackson as her feet drifted off the floor, body propelled only by the sheer rage caused by spending twenty years in Baker Hall. Invisible hands yanked a struggling Weiss from his .25x.25” desk and dragged him to the center of the lecture hall before a glowing-eyed Jackson. “Once you had hopes, dreams, a chance of graduating with a C average. But now? You’re nothing.” Jackson then used her newfound psychic abilities to banish Weiss to the 8 AM Lecture Zone, an interdimensional prison in which each minute is as long as a lifetime of suffering.
When asked for comment, Weiss’s classmates responded by chanting “GLORY TO CHEM 3090!” in unison as they too began drifting upwards to the darkening sky.
GOLDWIN SMITH HALL—Just 15 hours before the first lesson of the semester, one Arts and Sciences professor is giddy in anticipation of finding out the subject, content, and themes of the course he is about to start teaching.
“It’s such an exciting time–students are coming back, finalizing their schedules, and some classes still don’t even have a subject! I’m going to have to completely improvise my opening lecture and pray students don’t notice!” said Professor Marty Jordan ‘95, his eye twitching. “Nothing is planned and everything is up in the air. I’m on my eighth cup of coffee and my email is so full of questions! What are the prerequisites? What are the basic tenets of the class? Will there be assigned reading for the first class at 9AM tomorrow? Who knows! Keep checking those emails kids!”
Despite sending a full syllabus and reading list to the university for approval in July, Professor Jordan has been denied tenure y and moved to an unlisted course to ensure flexibility for students. However, students have been less than pleased with the decision.
“Is this supposed to be good for us?” wondered Andrew Hannold ‘22. “I’m a second semester senior. I only want to know two things. One: Is there work in this class? Two: Do I have to show up for lecture? If the answer to either of those questions is yes, then I drop the class. And I can’t do that if I have to guess what the actual course content is going to be, alright? Honestly, I feel bad for Professor Jordan, but there is zero chance I pay attention anyways, so he ought to just pick something and run with it.”
At time of writing, administration has responded to questions about course offerings by accusing students of being “greedy” and adding that querulous students may be added to the “naughty list.”
IVES HALL—Professor Parker Wallace was taken aback early Monday morning when he received an email that each student in his Introduction To Organizational Behavior class had already completed their anonymous online course evaluation. Spending a few minutes perusing their comments over a cup of coffee, Wallace reached the very last without any notable criticisms. It was when the final evaluation that made his heart go thumpitty-thump-thump. “Jingle Bells, This Professor Smells!” wrote an unnamed student to begin their evaluation of Wallace’s teaching.
“Never in my 16 years of teaching at this school have I received a review like this,” said Wallace, before continuing, “This wasn’t an off-the-cuff remark. This was a deliberately constructed evisceration of my teaching style,” pulling up all 25 pages of the student’s holly jolly manifesto, one for each day of Christmas.
Much like toys in Santa’s workshop, the criticisms just kept coming. With scathing lines such as “Ho, Ho, Horrible Professor” and “Would not recommend this course to ANYBODY, even if they’re on the naughty list,” Wallace was roasted more thoroughly than chestnuts on an open fire. The veteran ILR professor seemed more confused about the origin of the student’s qualms than anything.
“Listen to this: ‘Professor Wallace couldn’t see my hand in the back of the lecture hall if he had Rudolph’s red nose guiding him to my seat.’ What the hell does that even mean? It’s a 25-person course; I know all of my students by name.”
Wallace, who does not celebrate Christmas, did admit that after reading the student’s not so jolly letter that he felt that his heart shrank three sizes that day.
ROCKEFELLER HALL—After a semester in which the bulk of the material was pushed to the last few days of class, Professor James Kent ‘88 has decided the best solution is to just assume all his students know it anyways and put it all in the final exam.
“I’m so sorry I couldn’t get to this material in class,” explained Professor Kent to his Monday Economics section. “But these six chapters are no more dense than the six chapters we covered in the three months prior to now. Therefore, we should have no trouble skimming through all six in one fifty-minute lecture, holding one office hours section, and then basing sixty percent of your grade on that knowledge I never taught.”
Professor Kent then moved on to a lecture in which he, at the speed of a freshman sprinting across the Arts Quad, described in vague detail everything from GDP calculation to Philips curves to applications of economic theory to modern politics. Students furiously scribbled in notebooks as the professor casually mentioned concepts on which he would base entire free response questions on the class’s cumulative exam in one week.
“Honestly, I got about a third of that,” admitted Matthew Kroger ‘25. “He lost me at the inflation stuff, and I had no idea what to make of the whole Krebs cycle thing. I think he accidentally started teaching us biology there for a few minutes, but I don’t know, maybe it has something to do with supply and demand? Seriously, is this what college is? Like, sure, I haven’t shown up to most of my sections, but I expected better from a tenured professor.” At the time, Professor Kent was giving a one-minute overview of game theory, a topic that would make up about a third of the final exam.
Asked to comment, Professor Kent stated that he is aware that the grades on the final will likely be abysmal, but that he was planning on curving everyone’s grade to a C+ anyways.
MALOTT HALL一Students in MUSIC 2212: History of Classical Composition were left panting in anticipation after Dr. Gregory Schreier announced that he would not release the practice prelim until the day before the exam as punishment for being very, very naughty.
“In my class, if you want the practice exam, you have to earn it,” said Schreier, or BachAndBallTorture69, as he prefers to be addressed online. “I don’t release my practice tests until students are pleading and crying from how bad they need it. Sometimes as a special treat I wait until they’re all riled up, and then I delete all information about the exam entirely.”
Flushed and shaking MUSIC 2212 students revealed between gasps that this was the latest in a long line of sadistic behavior on Schreier’s part.
“I’d long suspected this class was some sort of elaborate power trip, but I never thought it would get this bad,” said Sylvester James ‘24. “He told us he wanted to make us suffer, but that’s pretty standard for Cornell. I guess when he started coming to class in Latex bodysuits I should have realized something was up,” he said, adjusting the front of his mandatory catgirl maid uniform in the hopes Schreier would call him a “good boy.”
At press time, Schreier was forced to give the entire class A’s after a student shouted the safeword of “course evals.”
ROCKEFELLER HALL—In a surprising display of enthusiasm for nine in the goddamn morning, Professor Brian Kennedy began his first lecture of the day by kicking down the lecture hall door and shouting at the top of his lungs, “It’s derivation time, baby!” The esteemed and tenured member of the physics department, fueled by his love of deriving equations and approximately ten cups of coffee, proceeded to start blasting his “Lo-Fi Beats to Derive and Vibe To” playlist as he scribbled out the lesson plan on the chalkboard.
“He does this every Tuesday,” said Alex Valenti ‘23, shouting to be heard over the sounds of Schoolhouse Rock. “He’s just so fucking excited to smash a couple equations together and get a brand new equation, like a toddler on Christmas morning.”
Other members of the class agreed with Valenti, saying that Kennedy’s bizarre love for derivations was the highlight of their day. “I’m like, so constantly stressed out by so much bullshit,” said Monica Patrick ‘24, who sits in the front row and often has to brush chalk dust out of her hair when the award-winning renowned professor gets a little too buckwild with his equations. “But then I come to physics class and Professor Kennedy’s yelling about how goddamn cool the Euler equation is, and it’s like, damn, he’s right! I can’t wait to derive the shit out of these equations!”
As of press time, Professor Kennedy had leapt on top of his podium, brandishing an electric guitar in hand, to give the Fourier Transform the proper fucking respect it deserved.
PHILLIPS HALL—Students were left horrified this Tuesday after senior lecturer Timothy Ostgarden paused his 8 am lecture to remark, “Now, I’m not sure if they’ll let me say these days,” before embarking on a thirty minute screed against women, minorities, the LGBT community, and the Irish.
“I’m disappointed in Dr. Ostgarden, to be honest,” said Riley Greenwood ‘22. “I was promised an Ivy League education, but these are high-school level slurs. And since the class is over Zoom, he couldn’t even shove me into a locker afterwards. They’re charging me full tuition for this?”
While many students echoed Greenwood’s dismay, Professor Ostgarden has seen a rally of support from the men-who-wear-suits-to-class community.
“I came to Cornell because of its strong academic tradition, and I believe this morning validated my choice,” said Charles Highlock ‘22. “Where else could I find someone who’s still fighting the good fight against the Irish? While I don’t agree with calling them ‘miserable little potato bugs,’ you have to admit, the whole ‘Irish potato famine’ thing is pretty suspicious. He’s just asking the hard questions.”
At press time, Cornell administration promised to “denounce hatred in all forms” and “reaffirm their commitment to marginalized communities” by drawing a frowny face on Ostgarden’s next exorbitant paycheck.
GOLDWIN SMITH HALL—Before answering a question proposed by his professor, freshman John Higgins ‘23 boldly implied to everyone in the room that he had actually done the required readings for class that day and that he was completely ready to deliver an adequate response.
“I really just wanted to clarify that I had done the reading for the day, a task that is normally expected of all of us,” said Higgins. “Despite this fact, some people do not do the readings and I just wanted to make it plainly known that I do, in fact, do all of the readings.”
As intended, Higgins’ act made a substantial impression upon his Professor. “In all of my years of teaching,” said Professor Gerald Drexler, “I have never seen a student with such a remarkable commitment to learning. On the one hand, doing the readings is a feat in itself. But telling me that you’ve done them? That’s simply astonishing. As such, I’ll definitely be rewarding John with a lot of extra credit at the end of the semester.”
While many of Higgins’ classmates also did the reading, none of them felt the need to make it known in this manner, much to their disadvantage. Although answering discussion questions may demonstrate a good level of reading retention, recent studies have shown that publicly announcing that you actually did the readings from your very high horse improves grades by a whole letter on average.
By Professor Margaret Ellipson, ENGL 2810 Creative Writing
When all of you students walk through the door each morning, I give you the opportunity to look deep into yourself. For the years I have taught this class, the students and I, together, have spent every Monday and Wednesday from 10:10 to 11:00 turning the mundane into a vivid tapestry of emotions and feelings, rich with creativity and life. Those who passed through this course would often bring out a side of themselves they never knew existed. It was truly a pleasure to teach such an unparalleled vessel for expression on a campus that is far too ready to stifle it.
However, after reading one student’s description of Knuckles’s “panting appreciation” of Sonic’s “prickly, wet, wriggly little hedgehog toes,” perhaps it is best if that creativity is extinguished altogether.
No one should ever have to read, much less grade, seventeen pages of amateur literary pornography featuring the most debased sexual cravings of anthropomorphic hedgehogs. Let alone being an insult to the creators of these iconic characters, it is downright offensive to my eyes to have to pore over how Sonic’s “considerable circumference” penetrated Doctor Eggman’s “mechanical defenses” and revealed his “supple, plump buttocks.” Why on earth would I ever need to know about what Doctor Eggman’s ass looks like? How are the things these students are describing even physically possible? Oh God, the things they did to Tails…
And just because the content of these “writings” is certainly irredeemable, do not presume that the actual writing is any better. The number of run-on sentences, egregiously unfunny puns —I’m pretty sure I blacked out after reading someone say “Hey, quit hedge-hogging the lube!”— and random expository cuts are downright nauseating.
Let me make myself perfectly clear; this Creative Writing class is by no means a pass to give your sophomoric, hormone-addled smut a wider audience. Keep this disgusting pass at “fan fiction”, if you can even call it that, where it belongs, on Newgrounds forums and the comment section of theorycrafting Youtube videos.