All the different types of people in your lectures
Yes, yes, the human being is far too complex an entity to reduce to a few archetypes, yes none of these types of lists are actually representative of real people, yes I’m going to make one anyway for the clickbait value.
The one who did not get enough sleep last night (or the night before)
There are actually two subsets here. First, there’s the walking student starter pack: a large flask of coffee, larger still bags under their eyes, and their faces eerily expressionless, as if they’ve gazed into the void itself. The last time they slept for more than four hours was approximately 6 days ago, the last time their blood caffeine level was lower than their motivation was never. The second type is harder to discern, but the signs are present: a distinct lack of activity with sudden interludes of furious typing/writing, the classic head bop where their shoulders begin to droop and their head lolls before they jolt back up and attempt to look somewhat awake.
The keen one
This guy. He sits right at the front, always answers the questions everyone else (correctly) assumed the lecturer meant rhetorically, gets the answer right about 52% of the time, gets roasted 100% of time. That’s fine though, he gets a kick out of it. When he’s not correcting the lecture notes, you’ll find him kissing the lecturer’s arse. He’s late to a lecture one day, and in an odd way, for those 3 minutes and 42 seconds, you almost miss him.
The one who you vaguely know
You’ve made some awkward small talk in the hall with them while waiting to go into your lecture, you’ve made some even more awkward eye contact as you walked past them pulling at Cindies. You’re still not certain as to what their name actually is or what college they’re at but you decide to socialise anyway. ‘Fun night last night?’ you ask them, grinning. They blink at you, once, twice, before proceeding to give you a generic ‘aha yeah’ and turning away to look at the lecture handout with pointedly intense concentration. You’re mildly disheartened until a few days later when they miss a lecture and message you on Facebook asking for notes. They know your name! Success!!!!
The one who has still freshers’ flu
It’s week SIX. And somehow, they’re still sick. You’ve gone through the motions: Weeks 1 and 2 you could #relate, Week 3 you felt a mixture of sympathy for their suffering and smugness regarding your immune system’s clear superiority. Week 4 there was a brief respite for both you and them when it appeared they were getting better but by Week 5 they were back to providing a cough-beatbox fusion in accompaniment to the lecturer. Now, after they haven’t coughed once in more than five minutes, you find yourself turning your head back to make sure they’re definitely still conscious. A few moments later, they let out a feeble cough and you feel at peace. Order – grim, phlegmy order – is restored.
The one who you wrote a cheeky Crushbridge about
It’s either the vaguest Crushbridge ever that could literally apply to anyone or it’s so inconsiderately specific that no one else could possibly fantasise that it’s actually about them. Regardless, their name probably begins with ‘J’ and you think the way they shuffle their paper is ‘cute’. “Coffee sometime? x” your Crushbridge enquires hopefully, but nonetheless naively. Just a tip sweetie – we’re all in such a concentrated diet of sleep deprivation and caffeine that any more at this point will probably result in an anaphylactic shock. Cut the caffeine, cut the Crushbridge, cut the crap. It’s obviously time to execute the classic, ‘oh hey, I forgot a pen, could you lend me one?*’ and then rush out of the room at the end of the lecture without returning it. That way, you have an excuse to Facebook them a few hours later with an apologetic yet subtly flirtatious message. (Something involving pens and a phallic metaphor would not go amiss here.) Oldie, but a goodie.
*Just make sure you’re not using a laptop.