To Sir, With Love

There comes a time in a young, over-privileged white kid's life where the need to learn, grow and achieve returns to you. The burn to prove oneself over again drives you to the point of yelling "Damn it! This is the year I'm going to turn things around and chase after what I really want!"

Well, that happened to me five years ago. I went to uni; got a degree and now I'm the proud owner of a low-paying, entry-level job.

So this year when the thirst of knowledge returned, I slapped it in the face with a cold dose of reality – the reality of community college. Ahh community college, the bastion for those moderately interested in a topic, and only willing to apply one weekend day, or several weeknight's worth of application to it.

Knowing all this, I still entered my one school day with high hopes, a keen mind and no hangover. I was reeking of dedication. Sadly, dedication seemed to be the one quality missing in my fellow class mates, and teacher.

After twenty uncomfortable minutes of six people sitting in a silent classroom, our teacher entered with a bag of biscuits and wearing track pants. Perhaps this is the community college equivalent to the tweed jacket with leather elbow patches?

Two hours into what could only be loosely classified as work, I hear the cry of a child very close behind my head. 'What the…? Why am I hearing a baby's voice in a…' It was the French lady's husband and daughter. Apparently he'd had enough of being at home with the child, and decided that walking into the classroom and holding out the roaring toddler was the best way to handle his situation.

Like every good mother, Frenchie took her baby in her arms and briefly comforted her…before she turned to the teacher "So we have lunch now, yes." Notice how I didn't end that sentence with a question mark? That wasn't a mistake.

After 45 minutes of non-class time bliss, our return was marked by a mystery. Inbu, the Philippine photographer, did not return and a missing student in a class of six is blindingly obvious. I was sad for our teacher, the slow pace and zoo like conditions were not all his fault. He had tried his best and kept nerdy IT jokes to a minimum, but I also understood Inbu's decision to skip the rest of the "class"….or did I?

At 3pm, two hours after lunch, Inbu strolled sheepishly back into the room. Shocked at his return, the teacher naturally asked "Inbu! Where've you been mate?" To which he replied "Oh, I fell asleep." It would appear our student M.I.A. had taken a three hour nap in his car on the side of the road missing half of the course.

I think it was half an hour after the South African decided to leave for a surf that I concluded I would have a more rewarding experience relaying the chronicles of Inbu to my mates than actually staying. I made my awkward apologies for not attending next week's class and ran home.

School's out suckas.