Point

I Respect My Professors Too Much to Drink

Wallace Pine

First of all, let me just say I’m not a square, or a narc, or a loser or anything like that. I’m all for having fun at school. I’ve led some WoW raids that were more fun than a barrel of monkeys. But when it comes to getting those monkeys drunk and letting them stagger to class, I have to call shenanigans.

Our professors have devoted their precious time to helping us students learn the skills we need to advance in life, and the disrespect of coming to class drunk, on any occasion, is just too much to fathom. I don’t care if my stupid roommate Brian’s keg explodes and floods my room and the only way to keep my gerbils Daphne and Gadget from drowning is to drink the beer out of their enclosure; I’d let them die before drinking on a class day.

And before you start with the names, let me just say that I do drink. I’ve had more than my fair share of hard cider, Mike’s Hard Lemonade, and New Year’s Eve champagne. Drinking while school is in session is a different matter. If the students want to drink, let them do it in the summer. In fact, why don’t they move Sun God Festival to the middle of summer? That way, kids could drink all they wanted, and those like me who miss school could organize some symposia and colloquia surrounding the event. Actually, on second thought, maybe it should be a non-drinking festival. If there’s anything more disrespectful than going to class drunk, it’s passing out at a colloquium.

So if you’re going to drink on Sun God, at least have the decency to skip class and get caught by an RSO so we don’t have to feel uncomfortable passing you as you wet yourself on Library Walk.

Counterpoint

I Respect My Students Too Much to Come to Class Sober

Dr. William Clevenger

All quarter, I have to drill you stupid kids on math equations and physics junk. Honestly, if I were in your position, I’d pass out faster than a gluon. I don’t know what that was supposed to mean. The point is, you think this is my life? Hell no. I go home to a fleet of sports cars and a posse of supermodels at my beck and call. Nobel Prizes do have their long-term benefits.

And to be honest, most of you idiots are never going to know the difference between a Newton and a Fig Newton anyway. Those that are good at math don’t need me; they can figure this stuff out on their own like I did. Look at that kid in the front; you think he needs a professor? He probably already corrected the eighteen mistakes in his textbook. So on today, the day of days, you can bet your ass I’m going to be blitzed on Wild Turkey by eleven in the morning.

If the lecture seems a little unusual, it’s probably because I’m using drawings of different Smurfs characters instead of Greek symbols. And if that’s making it hard to take notes, then may I suggest getting the hell out of class so I can go back to my favorite all-physicists bar? After all, you’re the only student here, and you’ve sucked up so consistently all quarter I’m going to give you an ‘A’ just because I can already tell you’ll be bitching to me in my office if I don’t.

Peach Schnapps? No, didn’t think so.

Tell you what, here’s an exercise for you: if a Professor projectile vomits in class with a velocity of two feet a second and an acceleration of negative six inches per second per second, how close would a student have to be to be in the splash zone? Front row, maybe? Well, hurry up and solve that you little weasel, because I’m going to move on to experimental testing in about thirty seconds.