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Unorthodox classroom etiquette

Raise your hand, pay attention, don't talk in class, don't chew gum, don't be late, don't pelt the person in front of you with spit wads, etc. You know this. We learned those rules in elementary school. However, the moment we waved "bye" to mom and dad on move-in day, the old regime flew out the window, and life as we knew it changed forever.

Class, in my opinion, became something we were lucky to attend on Fridays, a good place to do homework for tomorrow and a time in which to complete the Wonderword, the crossword and the Jumble, all while feigning interest in our professors. Most of us, as college students, still maintain a pretty calm classroom appearance despite all the gum we chew, the notes we don't take and the talking we do in hushed tones during the slideshows. We pretty much follow the original rules, but we've added a few of our own. Have no misgivings: If you do any one of the following acts, you are going to enrage at least one fellow collegian, if not the entire student body.

Never, ever under any circumstance should you turn the air conditioner off. Should some teacher ask you to switch it off, pretend you didn't hear and let some other poor soul do the most hated act in all of unairconditioned college history. I know that it makes it a little hard to hear when the A/C's on, but this is a small price that those of us who just have run to class because we woke up late and are now pouring with sweat are willing to pay.

Class is torturous enough without having to feel like your face is melting off. If the classroom isn't so ridiculously freezing that you're wearing sweatpants, earmuffs and tundra boots, it's hotter than all Hades and little imps are running around poking you with pitchforks. Even in the winter, most of the classrooms are stifling hot, so this is a year-round thing. Just don't be that guy/girl that turns off the A/C.

There is usually only one armrest between two conjoined chairs, so you better learn to share it. Sharing, in theory, is simple. Most of us do it in all areas of life; we share our friends, our food, the guys/girls we date and even sometimes, if you're very nice, our beer. No one told us to make sure to share space, though, and armrest greed has become a real problem. We all pay to come here, and, the way I see it, you paid for half of that armrest (except you Jefferson Scholars. In your case, this doesn't apply, and you get no armrest).

Sometimes you will happily sit next to someone with whom you are in perfect armrest harmony. They are the yin to your elbow yang; their elbow prefers the back portion, yours the front. It's fabulous when this happens, but most of the time you sit next to someone who sprawls out all over the chair, takes both armrests and will probably breathe on you, too. The day I hear about some kid taking a machete to his neighbor's arm because he was so fed up, I won't be surprised; I will empathize.

Almost no situation in class requires you to shoot your classmate a dirty look. Keeping this in mind, it is never appropriate to glare at someone if they either kick your chair by accident or have a coughing fit. If someone suddenly develops the Croup or Tuberculosis during a review session, have some sympathy. Many of us live in nasty, disgusting places, and it's rare to be completely healthy in college. They don't need your reproachful glare to make them feel worse about their uncontrollable illness. You should applaud them for even coming to class.

In case you're under five feet tall and you haven't noticed, most of the lecture halls here have rows that are so close together that you are hugging your knees the entire class. Even crossing and uncrossing your legs becomes an acrobatic act. No one kicks the back of your chair on purpose; it's either a nervous habit shaking their leg, a successful leg cross or someone jumping in their sleep. You're not being intentionally victimized. If you turn and glower though, you've sealed your fate to have your chair kicked for the rest of class and subsequent classes in which this person sits behind you.

Lastly, I know you like the sound of your own voice, but my participation grade doesn't. The rest of the class doesn't appreciate it either. Trying to answer every question the teacher asks, conducting a one-on-one discussion with the professor mid-lecture and using words with more than two syllables when speaking are wretched acts. You are incidentally responsible for everyone's low grades if you feel so compelled to answer every question. Only respond to a proportionate number of questions; hold back, my type-A friend.

While you may feel that you have a pertinent argument right about the 20-minute mark of class, and the professor invites that type of scholarly banter, I bet the rest of the 500 people in the room are not so equally enthused. Note that the material you are discussing won't likely be on the test, and, therefore, does not enrich the class. I did not enroll at U.Va. with the stipulation of bringing my dictionary to class every day. DO NOT use words over two, maybe three syllables, unless discussing how pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis is the longest word in the English language (true fact -- 45 letters). Maybe two other people will know what you mean, but the rest of us will let our eyes glaze over and will be staring blankly at you.

So, in short, just be courteous to your classmates. Don't make going to class any worse than it already can be.

Lindsay can be reached at McCook@cavalierdaily.com

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