I graduated from University. It still sounds weird, as if I weren’t really talking about myself. To think that it seems just like yesterday when I was graduating from high school *sighs*: that was already 4 years ago.

Yesterday we had our festive class, which is basically an official way for the teachers to send us off into the scary outside world At first I didn’t really want to go, but somehow got roped into going, and I didn’t regret it. I can’t believe I teared up (very briefly though) at the end.

The title? It’s the name of a song by Right Said Fred, that played at the end of the ceremony. As soon as I got home, I downloaded it and have been listening to it almost continuously

What’s left: getting through the licentiate exam. And then I’m off into working full time. At least I like my job : building asp.net powered web sites. Guess who does the XHTML and CSS for it *wags eyebrows* ?

An excerpt from a discussion from the Management and Marketing lecture:

Professor: Luca Paciolo was quite smart for that time: during the XII-th century.
Student: Actually he lived in the XIII-th century: he was contemporary with Leonardo DaVinci.
Professor: Oh well: lots of things have changed since I was in school.

… like Luca Paciolo’s life span, apparently.

I’ve always prided myself on never having encountered an exam where I didn’t know the answer to at least half of the questions. However, the day when I had to stare at the test and wonder which subject should I start ‘decorating’ (since none really told me anything), has finally come. To make things worse: I had to endure it double time, since I couldn’t fit in the classroom for the first session (too many students took the course).

Session1: Waiting for the ax to fall
——————————————————
Door to the classroom opens as another teacher steps in.

Student A (peers into the classroom): They’re not writing!
Other Students: Quit joking. You can only see the back rows.
Student A (dramatically): They all have their heads in their hands! I SWEAR.
Other Students (seriously panicked): Really?? We’re up next!

In the meantime the ‘visiting’ professor exits and smiles kindly, probably attempting to remember us from first year’s Algorithms (EVERYONE was taught by him).

Professor (jokingly): Are you on strike?
Student B: No, we just didn’t fit in the class. We’re up in 20 minutes.
Professor: Oh… but why so glum?
Student C (miserably): We don’t know anything.
Professor (smirking): WHY don’t you know anything? It can’t be that difficult.
Me (whispering): Is he mocking us for not having chosen his course¹?
Student B: Yes… I believe he is.

… and then, there was the actual exam, of course.

Session 2: On the scaffold
——————————————-
Professor scrawls (no that is NOT writing) the subjects on the blackboard. Students stare at the questions bewildered. Have we unknowingly taken up Martian Language?

Me (uncertainly): What did you write at question 3?

Classmate stares at Vera and shows her his nearly blank (he had the questions written) paper. Vera considers suicide… writes something, which she hopes has something to do with the questions… and time’s up.

And then, there’s time to reveal the marks. Everyone’s nerves are strung high, waiting on edge, yet the professor takes his sweat time as per usual. And finally… it’s my turn to inquire about my marks: “Artificial Intelligence” (AI) and “Instructive Machines and Form Recognition” (IMFR), the latter being the one with the horrific exam.

Epilogue: May I strangle you? RIGHT NOW??
—————————————————————–
Vera sits down carefully, dearly wishing she hadn’t hurried so much. Those two students in front of her had flunked IMRF, she most certainly didn’t want to take the dreadful exam again.

Me: I’m Vera C, from group xxx.

Tutoring assistant shuffles some papers and professor looks at Vera’s mark, careful not to let the latter see.

Professor (jovially): So Vera, what mark do you think you have?
Me (mentally strangling the professor): Ah no… just please tell me. I don’t like to assume.
Professor (in a coaxing tone²): No really, what mark do you think you’ve earned?
Me (grudgingly): Well… I was hoping for 80 or 90%.
Assistant (smiling): 90% it is!

Vera smiles uneasily, since she knew her AI mark would be fine (3 cheers for tutoring assistants ).

Me: And… um… what about IMFR?
Tutoring assistant (eagerly shuffling papers): That’s also 90%.
Professor: This is confidential, but your written paper was quite poor.

Vera is torn between ‘Who cares?’, ‘May I strangle you… NOW??’ and ‘Who’s fault is THAT?’

Vera (smiles uneasily): Yes… I… um… didn’t do too well there. I know.

Vera hurriedly jumps up, eager to escape as soon as possible.

Classmate: What did you get?
Me (elated): 90%
Classmates (impressed): For both?

Vera nearly crashes into the teacher’s desk³.

Me (beaming): Yes.

So no strangling the teacher, after all there are still those who need to pass. Nevertheless, I fully agree with a classmate’s “toasting reason”, after the AI exam (written the day after the disastrous exam):

To Professor X!
May he have a long - however not particularly pleasant - life!
CHEERS!!

You can bet that everyone clinked glasses whole-heartedly to that. If I weren’t finishing university this year, I’d definitely make a vow not to choose ANY of his subjects again. As such: good riddance!

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¹ Starting 2^nd year we have so called optional classes, meaning that we can choose from 2 to 5 subjects for a certain course (called optional course). Most students chose IMFR because it was supposed to lack an exam… or it did last year.

² At least I think that was the professor’s intention. To me, it was just plain creepy. Then again, I was sitting 5cm from him, so I could be biased.

³ I’m not sure HOW I could miss it, then again, the classmate is cute…