“How Not To Deal With Peace Officers”
For the majority of the semester, I’ve been kicking ass in all of my classes, in particular Sociology. It’s simple. I understand it, and I feel like on some level, Sociology understands me.
Anyhow, after the midterm (on which I got a 92/100 on) my professor, the esteemed Dr. Lori Girshick (Author of the riveting book about lesbian non-consensual sex; “Woman-to-Woman Sexual Violence: Does She call it Rape?” You can visit her website about lesbian battering, and other non-traditional domestic violence the catholic church would frown on http://www.loribgirshick.com), started a new policy that if you do not have an outline of the reading, you were not allowed to come to class. She was not pleased with the low grades on the test.
The day she instituted this policy, I asked her, “How is preventing someone from hearing the lecture, of which a lot of the midterm was based, working towards higher grades for the class? Does that not seem a little counter productive?” Her answer was “Well…This is the way we’re going to do it.” So much for intelligent, mature, discourse.
Anyhow, I was sick one day. Missed one class, the first one all semester. I showed up the next class, and did not have an outline. I showed up early, to talk with her about maybe handing it in after class, or doing it for the next chapter, or some other equally amicable compromise. She would not oblige. I didn’t have the outline, and she told me I could not, under any circumstance stay in class. I knew it was time to bring out the big guns, and appeal to her reasonable side. I said, “But Dr. Girshick, let’s level here, I’m a straight A student, this is the only lapse I’ve had all semester.” All she could say was, “You gotta go.”
I stepped it up a bit, I made some concessions. “Let me stay and listen, but give me a zero for the day, as if I’m not here. That’ll accomplish the same effect.” She said, “No, you MUST leave.”
In all desperation, I tried one last plea, “But Dr. Girshick, This will make me have missed two classes in a row. And you only need three to fail the semester! I can’t handle this, I’m a straight A student!”
She replied one last time, a little bit flustered, “You have to leave. We’ll talk about this later.”
Realizing that I was not going to win, I figured I might as well have some fun with the situation. I found myself perched forward while I was pleading. Realizing that my efforts were in vein, I leaned back, crossed my arms, put my right leg over my left, and said “What happens if I don’t leave?”
“You have to leave, or I am going to call security” She stated rather matter-of-factly.
“Welp” I said with a very intentional “P” on the end of that word, the kind of P that might precede the phrase ‘I best…’
“I don’t think I’m going to pick up and leave a class I paid an awful lot of money to attend.” I cooed at her.
“Well, then I’m calling security.” She pouted.
I quickly chimed in at her as she was walking towards the phone, “Make sure you tell them why it is you are kicking me out of your class!”
As I sat there, I kind of started to freak out. I was way too deep to turn back now. I just kept pretending like I was staying in class, I opened the book to my un-outlined chapter, and took out a piece of paper for the quiz.
In a few moments security arrived. It was two guys. They were big. They sounded like cowboys when they walked because of all the jingly shit hanging off of them. As both of them walked up, one stood on my right, and the other took up post behind me. The one on my right folded his arms.
“You really need to leave.” Said my professor. At this point, I was feeling really intimidated, but still like I was doing something right. I’ve never gotten in trouble for GOING TO class before, so if nothing else, it was a welcome change.
I put my right hand on my chin, and said, “Mmmmm … I don’t think so. What happens if I don’t leave?”
The security guard to my right closed my book and picked up my bag. The one behind me said, “It’s time to go.”
Sitting there, with nothing in front of me, and nothing left to really lose, I said, “Wellll, I’m not leaving.”
It was at this point, the security guards picked me up under my arms. I didn’t really think they could do this, but then again, I didn’t think you could get kicked out of class for not having your homework.
I was really cool and polite up until this point. I was trying to have mature discourse about a conflict between myself and the professor. However, as soon as they put their hands on me, I started having a good old fashioned freak out. I threw my arms around so they would let go of me, and started yelling. “You fucking rental cops get your filthy hands off of me. I’m a fucking student.”
I took back my bag and said, “This is fucking bullshit. All for wanting to stay in class.” As we were leaving the classroom the bigger of the two security guards had to get his jab in, “I’m not a rental cop, I was a federal agent for 21 years.” This absolutely infuriated me. It trivialized my cause. “Ohhh a fed” I said while doing the jazz hands, “We’re all realllyyyy fucking impressed”.
After I left the class, I actually apologized to the security guards. They were actually just doing their job. They were actually sympathetic to my cause upon finding out what it was they were called in for. I ended up getting a refund and a withdraw passing. The administration told me I would have to apologize to the class for “scaring them” and “causing a scene” if I was to come back. I told them, “There is no way I’m apologizing because I didn’t do anything wrong.” They said if I didn’t apologize, the teacher would have to make a statement saying I was sorry. That’s complete crap. I very professionally told them they can stuff it, and to give me my money back.
I feel as though if I had a phenomenal rack, this would have turned out differently. Sometimes, I wonder how I get myself into these situations.
