Bruce Kerr: Lectures are what we make them

First off, if lectures aren’t your thing, then you’re in the wrong place. Frankly, there’s nowhere worse you could have picked than an institution thats fundamental goal is teaching through the medium of lectures. This duly noted, lectures are like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re going to get. Is the lecturer going to be dry and uninspiring or a total rock star, leading you through the intricacies of the Cold War, a la Dewey Finn (Ned Schneebly)? Is the content stimulating and relevant, or is it jargon-filled theory that would test an insomniac’s ability to stay awake? Are you wired on a blend of adderall and Red Bull or is your mind afloat in a sea of other more pressing issues such as your Halloween costume, which Instagram filter will best enhance your photo and whether Bongo Ball is racist or not (it’s not by the way)?

There’s a perfect set of conditions similar to that of the Earth’s creation (1 chance in 10^{x like a lot}) that create the environment when you come away from a lecture having been fully engaged and enlightened. I highly suggest you to do your best to attend lectures and absorb all the knowledge being thrown at you like a sponge in an ocean, but if you still find yourself bored, here’s some other fun things to do.

Sit right at the edge of an empty row in lectures and watch people awkwardly struggle to get past your one man fortification using your bag, jacket, laptop and body. It’s funny on so many levels. First, you can watch people look around awkwardly for any possible alternative to scooting past you. It’s very British to see the minor inconveniencing of another person as the rudest of behavior. In fact, some will feel so averse to disrupting you that they will perch upon the stairs. The levels to which one will apologise for interrupting your routine are hilarious considering how obnoxious the nature of your actions have been. If you’re really lucky, the person will trip while trying to traverse your fort and totally embarrass themselves in a room full of peers. Let it be known that this is something I have never done. However, I assume these are the motivations behind the buffoons that consciously commit this blatant lecture etiquette violation. A special spot in hell is reserved for these sinners.

Whilst the above conduct is discouraged, there is a minor variation that tickles me greatly. For some reason, it is another tacitly consented agreement in the lecture etiquette to leave a spare seat between you and someone you don’t know. Next time you see someone consciously leave a space between them and yourself, try shuffling into that spare seat and check out the baffled expression on their face as they try to come to terms with your action. Not only will you help to break this trend of unfriendliness, you’ll also be able to copy their notes.

The next pastime one might engage in involves a degree of creepiness, but considering you’ve just shuffled closer to someone who clearly didn’t want to sit near you, there’s only so much more damage you can do to your reputation. It resembles the Facebook stalk, but is, in fact, the noble art of the Google stalk. With a lack of the St Andrews academic staff being hooked up to Facebook, Google becomes your closest ally in your pursuit of information about your lecturer. As you leave, compliment them on their 1986 dissertation thesis on the ‘The Exchange of Goods and Services in Pre-Sargonic Lagash’ and you might just win an extension on the next rapidly approaching deadline.

If you happen to be the proud owner of a particularly phlegmy cough, like myself, then your possibilities are endless. Cough as disgustingly and loud as you can manage, and see if that one seat separation between you and your unknown neighbor extends a little further. If you’re really struggling for something to occupy yourself then use your imagination to make your predicament more exciting. Like your teacher in primary school told you, free your mind and create something exciting. Suddenly, you’re transported to the world of Contagion and every croaky cough is a threat to yourself and humanity as a whole. You have to escape the lecture theatre but there’s people sitting on either side of you and it would be rude to inconvenience their learning. Then you have to dodge the stair dwellers and make it to the door remembering to congratulate your lecturer on his first from Cambridge before rushing out of the infected mess of the Buchanan building.

So let these examples inspire you to remember: lectures don’t have to be a tedious routine, and they are what we make them.