“Ya Allah, Aaj CP session na ho. Promise kal sey parhoon ga.”
“Pick me. Pick me. Pick me.”
“How dare she say that? I thought of it first!”
Class Participation is just torture. It makes you oh so anxious and terribly stressed. If you’re enrolled in anywhere where CP is a thing, you’re probably aware of what this means. If not, let me enlighten you dear earthlings.
Class participation: A term some students dread, and some adore. A term that creates a war zone before, or after classes, and an atmosphere that can be compared to that out of a Pakistani wedding where they have extra botis in the Biryani being served.
Yes, it gets that bad.
Of course, this does differ from one section to another, but, if you’re someone who has been blessed with professors who need a “quick” recap of everything you’ve done in previous classes, *points at self*, you will definitely be able to relate to the war I am about to describe to you.
Prepare yourself humans. This is going to take you down memory lane- or a class.
Pages flip forward and backward, and then a couple all at once. Eyes skimming over every word, trying to squeeze meaning out of alphabets you put together a couple of days ago. “It all made sense then. Why can’t I recall it now?”
“Why are you even studying? Chill karo. TA laga day gi CP.”
*eye roll* Says the guy who had his nose in the course textbook all throughout free slot. *double eye roll*
You open your mouth to remark back but your eyes widen when the professor walks in and looks around. All of a sudden the air feels hot and the your back feels as though it has been hung up against the chair. Straight and alert.
It’s not just your back that feels hung up. The guy behind you and the girls next to him are now busy skimming through their neatly copied off notes in rainbow markers.
The backbenchers casually walk to the front seats with their humongous name plates and you can’t help but position yours again.
‘Maybe if I raise mine up and then put it back again she’ll remember my name.’
Someone coughs. The professor opens her mouth.
Hands shoot up. You raise both of yours.
The guy behind you gets to speak twice, so you take his name plate and throw it behind him. The teacher still doesn’t notice you. You raise your nameplate and hover it above your head.
A backbencher gets picked next. The girl next to you is starting to act like a kangaroo. Your eyes look widen like a frogs would when a fly buzzes past; skimming over your notes again and again until you find a topic that hasn’t been spoken about yet.
The guy now has his name plate adjusted, so he glares at you and take your notes away. The professor is looking at you. This is your chance to shine, CP points here I come!
The kangaroo next to you gets picked and receives a plus two for giving a new example.
Your hands are wobbly and tired, and you regret even coming to class today. The professor slams a marker on the table to stop the commotion but everyone continues. You spot three kangaroos and five frogs in the back row.
Time’s ticking, you’re running out of topics. Information is trying to flood out. You try to look at the TA with the same look you give your mom when you want takeaway for dinner. She looks away.
One topic left. The professor picks up the attendance register.
No. No. No. No. No.
“Okay, last question class..”
You jump. “UNDERSTANDING YOUR CONSUMER AND MARKET.”
“Did I ask you? Why do you have to scream in class? Negative CP lagayein inka.”
The guy laughs, kangaroo girl grins at you, frog eyes stare at you, and you slam your head on the table.
Everyone sighs and slumps down into their chairs as the attendance sheet is picked up and you think of all the ways you can make up for it in the next class. That is, if it isn’t the last class of the semester.