Pfft, you didn’t get a college degree? How do you know what to think? – Ruqqus

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Had great fun. Mid-life career change had me back at a university. Was kicked out of classes a few times, just for the rest of that class, not booted out permanently. Each time, upon return, the “professor” apologized . . . some to a certain extent in a very minimal way. I allowed the buffoons to “save face” in front of the kiddies by minimizing the affront to me by ousting me for daring to reasonably and accurately question portions of the propaganda the spewers-of-indoctrination were bombarding a classroom full of innocents with.

Every time I was kicked out of class I had fellow students that were present approach me when I returned to the class a day or two or three later and compliment me on how I handled myself. One incident is at the forefront of my thoughts. An in-class debate that grew very heated; on the professors’ side of the fray. I was calm, cool, collected, logical and rational. That damn instructor was definitely not used to confronting a bloke such as I.

As the freak became flummoxed when unable to compete with my statements he screeched the expected-by-me order “GET THE HELL OUT OF MY CLASS.” “Sure,” I replied and gathered my goodies, smiled and waved at the class and was surprised when a dozen or so fellow students followed me outs of the class. The younguns’ gathered around me in the hallway outsie the classroom complimenting me on how I handed the instructor and that they thought he was a this and that and other things. And off we went.

On the third day I entered the class and a gaggle of students surrounded me offering support and agreeing with how I handled affairs, etc. A rather interesting interaction. Settling down into the damn institutional plastic-molded butt-holders we awaited the King to enter his Realm. When he did he came directly to me and apologized sincerely and extended his hand. Being the fucking diplomat that I am . . . at times . . . I apologized to him in return, allowing him to “save face” in front of the class. He beamed when I did that.

The semester final test was two-weeks away and all of us dreaded what had been tossed at us; the description of a 3-hour test that was going to be formidable for even the best, brightest and most diligent of us. I had been told by several of the fellow students that they had reported the professor’s behavior to the dean of students. I handle my own affairs whenever possible. Perhaps those complaints helped lead to the professor’s decision. After the mutual apology the professor sat at his desk, played with paperwork and appeared to be formulating his thoughts. Then he made his announcement. The final was now changed to a new format. An experiment. No in-class 3-hour ordeal. Instead, a take-home final that we could start at any time but it had to be turned in on the day and time when the final test was scheduled. He would be in the classroom collecting the work. We were to select three questions about the covered material and then answer them. Grading would be based upon the typical parameters AND . . . bonus points thus a higher grade for those crafting more complex questions that required several typed pages to properly answer.

Damn!!!! EASY AS SHIT for even a half-way decent student. And two damn weeks to complete!!!! With that the professor dismissed the class stating that if we wanted we could use the time to start on the final or whatever; we were free to go until the next session. As I left pert-near every student gathered around me in the hallway outside the classroom proclaiming that the prior ousting incident led to what was likely a bribe to end that affair and the ensuing turmoil that fellow students stirred up. But, it took my standing up to a well-known-at-campus hard-core hard-testing SOB professor and being kicked out of class to set the stage for what was a reward/bribe/whatever.

I received an “A” for that class. A deserved grade. My 3.9 out of 4.0 GPA was well-earned. I could also hold my own in several subjects even when debating an “expert” in the field. A shame my brain trembles in terror when math enters the scene. I was a victim of the “New Math” of the 1960s. That was likely a Commie plot to incapacitate the scientific minds of millions of Boomer school kids. Those filthy bastards!!!!!

What’s weird is I barely recall what was said the times the Dean of Students of the entire university beckoned me to enter his realm and converse. I remember being asked to clarify situations occurring in the classroom where various professors had contacted him regarding my classroom “antics.” Hint: never disagree and offer an excellent explanation to back your disagreement with a liberal or Marxist professor.

Always tell the truth, you have a shit-load less to remember the sage said. And that I did. After saying my piece I departed under the impression the Dean had enjoyed our conversation and I never heard back about that specific incident. A couple other Dean visits followed with the same results. I think some of those professors hated me!!! Perhaps some day I shall share the interactions with the Air Force colonel in charge of the university’s Air Force ROTC program. Post-911 events at the school were  haphazard so I offered to grab some other vets to assist the ROTC command. Well . . . it got complicated.

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