This has to be said
Some things don’t.
Matt Abra, Volunteer Staff
It happened almost eight months ago, but I’m still recovering from the shock to my system. There we were, 200 people sitting through last year’s final lecture for Introduction to Psychology — relaxed, casual, really just eager to be finished — when without warning, a shrill voice exploded through the theatre. Like a rebel with a cause, a girl heatedly laid into the crowd of non-stop “chatters” who all year had made the class such a frustrating endeavour for many of us. The majority of us were frozen in our seats, our hands tensely gripping the arm holds as we listened to her rant, plodding on for a good two minutes about the people’s rudeness and the fact that everyone else had come there to learn. Never in my life had I felt such an internal conflict of liberation versus extreme terror. I had a choice — either stand up and cheer or cower in my chair. I chose the latter. Needless to say, that particular course ended with a bang.
I myself had given up. Throughout the year I had made several efforts to halt the incessant amounts of talking that occurred during class. I wrote e-mails to the professor about it and I even resorted to the old “head turn” trick on a couple of occasions, where a well-timed dirty look to the offender sometimes makes the point clear. In the long run, though, they proved to be useless gestures. The people would not stop, and it was this fact alone that brought the girl to her breaking point. She finally did what I’m sure plenty of us had only lacked the courage to do — she spoke up about it (very loudly, I might add). I never knew who she was, and I doubt if I’d even recognize her again, but let me take this quick opportunity to send out a much-overdue “Thank you.”
Yes, this is university, our chosen path to a more mature form of education, but, as if they were just sick on the day this particular lesson in etiquette was taught, some people still talk in class.
Yes, this is university, our chosen path to a more mature form of education, but, as if they were just sick on the day this particular lesson in etiquette was taught, some people still talk in class. I don’t claim that there’s anything malicious behind it, but these people in question seem very unaware of just how distracting their chatter is, even at a whisper. News flash — we hear it all. If these delinquents had chosen to pay attention, they would have learned in that very same psych class that the human ear has the sensitivity to hear a ticking watch from seven metres away, so we can certainly hear a 50-minute conversation about Ugly Betty’s latest moment of “beauty.” Anything we hear is a disruption. Anything that is a disruption is affecting your fellow students.
Some consider it simply rude; others might consider it an actual violation of our democratic rights as students. There is an old saying: “You can swing your fist only as far as the end of another person’s nose.” We as a democracy — hell, we as human beings — adhere to the ideal that all individuals are free to do as they wish so long as their actions do not affect another. It is a rule meant to keep us safe and hopefully keep us moral. It is exactly the type of university society we all strive to be a part of. By all means, do as you choose. You can choose to not attend class, you can choose to not do your assignments, you can choose any path you so desire as long as you yourself are the only one feeling the effects of it. Your entire academic career will hinge on the choices you make along the way.
The problem comes when my academic career hinges on the choices that you make. The choice to talk to your neighbour during class is you exercising your right to not pay attention, but it is also making our noses sore. As the girl made clear, some of us came to get educated, and we reserve the right to choose what kind of education that will be.
Matt Abra is a third-year arts student.
