The Geography of English
102
Ima Ersatz
You can tell a lot about students in a
classroom before they open their mouths or put pen to paper. You can
tell a lot about what kind of student they are according to where
they have chosen to sit in a classroom (assuming they're allowed to
sit where they want). I know this from personal experience. When I
was in college, my favorite perch was always well to the back of the
classroom — not necessarily in the Back Row, because I thought that
was reserved for true, inveterate slackers, but just in front of the
Back Row. It was part of my scheme to get through four years of
college without ever being called on in class. I had other devices
-- pretending to be scribbling notes furiously in my notebook or
looking up something in my book (Profs won't bother you if they
think you're taking notes on their precious words), pretending to be
suffering from a nasty cold -- but none more effective over the long
haul of a semester than simply choosing my seat carefully.
How I loathed the students in Front Row, especially Bob Engstrom! He
always raised his hand to ask and answer questions. That was bad
enough, but all class long he bobbed his head up and down in
agreement with everything the professor said. I wanted to throw
spitballs at the back of that bobbing head. I would have whacked
that head with my copy of Bleak House if it weren't so far in front
of me. I continue to associate everyone in Front Row with the back
of Bob Engstrom's head.
Later on — irony of ironies — I became a college instructor who
depended greatly on students' willingness to participate in class
discussion. I can confirm that what I learned earlier from the back
of the classroom is true. Front Rows are students who want to appear
more interested in what's going on in the class; they interact more
often and more expertly with the instructor, and they get better
grades. Back Seats are either too shy or unwilling to engage in the
life of the class; they get lower grades. I have no statistical
analysis to back this up, but I'd bet a new eraser on it.
The geography of the classroom is divided into additional segments.
Actually, I've found that Back Seats are not necessarily the best
seats for avoiding the eye of the questioning professor. A professor
who stands in front of his class might well look over Front Seats
and look Back Seats right in the eye. This is bad for Back Seats
because the professor knows why they're sitting there and will
overlook the waving arms of Front Seats to get at the squirming,
coughing victims of Back Seatdom. For this very reason, SIDE SEATS
are often the safest. Not only are they more comfortable — year
after year students have been leaning their sleepy heads against the
walls until there is a nice groove worn in the plaster — but the
instructor needs stereoscopic vision to catch them. Thus, if they do
fall asleep, Side Seats are far less apt to fall onto the floor
because they enjoy the support of the wall, but they are also never
in the direct gaze of the instructor. Surprising point of fact: the
very best seat for avoiding the instructor's questions might very
well be the FIRST ROW, SIDE SEAT (either side, perhaps depending on
whether the instructor is left- or right-handed or blind in one
eye).
The largest segment of classroom geography, of course, is the area
of CENTER SEATS, that circle of seats in the middle of the
classroom, not front or back or off to the sides. Here you find the
good friendly citizens of academia. They haven't really made a
commitment to being an academic star, nor are they willing, quite
yet, to write you off and fall asleep on you. The students of Center
Seats deserve the benefit of the doubt, always; they will get B's
and C's, and frequently there will be a pleasant surprise sitting
among them — perhaps they came to class late and couldn't find a
seat in the front or they just wanted to be disguised for some
reason.
Of course you will find deviations from this geography. Every once
in a while, an academic superstar will sit in Back Row. Be assured
she will be treated as an alien by her nearby classmates, and
rightfully so. And, as a young teacher, in my very first literature
class at the University of Connecticut, I was dumbfounded by a
student who insisted on sitting in the very Front Row Center and yet
fell profoundly asleep every class. It couldn't have been my fault;
the others in Front Row were predictably alert. But fifteen minutes
into the class this student's head would begin the old bob-and-weave
and snap-to-attention and soon he would all but snore and drool. I
was hypnotized by his drooping eyes and the class began to pay more
attention to his weaving head than to my scintillating lecture. I
should have taken up a collection to buy him a cup of coffee. It
couldn't have been my fault, after all. He just didn't understand
where he belonged in the geography of the classroom.
Points to Ponder:
- Why does the writer present the categories in this order?
- Can you think of other categories based on the classroom's
"geography" that the writer didn't list?
- Does this essay seem aimed toward a specific audience? If
so, what kind?
- What structural elements holds this essay together? Try
printing the essay and connecting structural elements with
circles and lines.
- Do or did you fit into any of these categories in the
classroom? Does the essay inspire you to try sitting elsewhere
in the classroom the next time you begin a class?
- Can you sum up the writer's point (if there is one)? Can you
point to a thesis statement or place where the point of the
essay seems to "happen"?
- There is no scientific evidence to back up what the writer
says about where certain kinds of students sit. Would the
analysis be improved by such evidence?