The Blabbers
The 3L word
So, I'm in class today -- the one where I'm sitting on the floor -- and the frat-boy-wannabe sitting next to me won't shut up. Blah blah blah talking to his femmebot friend. They talked through the whole class. Nonstop. Even after several floormates (including yours truly) glared at them.
The world is divided into us and them: the chatters and the note-takers. The chatters mumble, crack jokes, and freely talk to their neighbors. Sometimes, they play with their cell phones, and, on rare occassions, actually answer them when they ring. They like law school for its entertainment value and bar crawls. They play Solitaire, 3-D Pinball and Fantasy Football. They check email and surf the 'net. The note-takers have highlighted texts, books open on their desk and write (or type) furiously through class. They're trying to pay attention and have realized that someday, someone will pay them for their advice/knowledge/lawyerly skills. This scares the hell out of the note-takers, and hence, the furious note-taking.
I am a furious note-taker. But it's a fine line. If I brought a computer to class, I could quickly become a chatter. But I don't. I take notes in a 3-ring binder with notebook paper and dividers, just like I did in seventh grade Social Studies. I am a Trapper-Keeper away from becoming a chatter. But like an ex-smoker infuriated by the nicotine addicts, I can't stand the chatters. They chat. I fume.
So, I'm in class today -- the one where I'm sitting on the floor -- and the frat-boy-wannabe sitting next to me won't shut up. Blah blah blah talking to his femmebot friend. They talked through the whole class. Nonstop. Even after several floormates (including yours truly) glared at them.
The world is divided into us and them: the chatters and the note-takers. The chatters mumble, crack jokes, and freely talk to their neighbors. Sometimes, they play with their cell phones, and, on rare occassions, actually answer them when they ring. They like law school for its entertainment value and bar crawls. They play Solitaire, 3-D Pinball and Fantasy Football. They check email and surf the 'net. The note-takers have highlighted texts, books open on their desk and write (or type) furiously through class. They're trying to pay attention and have realized that someday, someone will pay them for their advice/knowledge/lawyerly skills. This scares the hell out of the note-takers, and hence, the furious note-taking.
I am a furious note-taker. But it's a fine line. If I brought a computer to class, I could quickly become a chatter. But I don't. I take notes in a 3-ring binder with notebook paper and dividers, just like I did in seventh grade Social Studies. I am a Trapper-Keeper away from becoming a chatter. But like an ex-smoker infuriated by the nicotine addicts, I can't stand the chatters. They chat. I fume.
posted by Me at 12:06 AM
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