Before class began this morning, I was sitting with the other academic assistants on the third row of a classroom that could seat upwards of a hundred students. A student taking that section of the class sat down on the other side of me, smiled, and made eye contact. Knowing that I look exactly like an underclassman (for which I was mistaken on my very first day of grad school), I made sure to say casually in the first few sentences of our conversation that I was an assistant for the class.
I joked, “It’s kind of nice to be able to come to a class without the pressure of performing. You get all the benefits of taking the class and get paid for it too.” I knew that I would have exemplary attendance – since I’m paid by the hour – would read every word of the text – since I’m paid by the hour for that too – and would be paying close attention and taking careful notes.
The girl shook her head. “I don’t think you could pay me to take a class.”
“Really?” I said. The student actually wanted to pay for her schedule than be paid for it? Perhaps she wasn’t thinking about what she was saying; but probably I was not conversing with a career academic. (Though what else she thought she could do with an English major I would be interested to know.) “It’s much better this way,” I assured her.
And it was.
Mostly About Books 