Disclaimer: The “Hoots N’ Hollers” section of The Equinox is entirely satirical and not at all based in fact. Every story, photo and name used here is fictitious solely for the purpose of comedy and does not represent The Equinox’s or the College’s beliefs as a whole.
On the first day of classes, bright snow reflected off eager faces ready to learn. One class, Skipping 101, was filled to the brim with students, each of them watching the door in anticipation.
Of course the professor was late and many students worried he was, in fact, skipping class.
“Aw man,” said Ed-Ward Emoff, “I actually wanted to learn today!”
Finally, a figure appeared: Profess-or Deni Interest. He looked at the room of young hopefuls and sighed.
They all looked a little too aware this morning, and frankly, he was tired. But alas, this was a college and he was here to teach.
“Welcome to Skipping 101, where we discuss the techniques of skipping class,” he paused for dramatic effect, “and getting away with it!”
The next half hour was spent on the origins of skipping class: it first appeared in history in the late 1500s by the Roanoke Colony.
“Yes, these students were so proficient in disappearing, the whole colony was gone without a trace and we still have yet to find where it is they went off to,” Profess-or Deni Interest explained.
Next, the professor went over some simple, yet expensive techniques to solve the problem once and for all. He looked over the class, “I’m assuming here, and you all know what that means…”
Snuzy Button raised her hand. “That you’re an ass and we are too!” she said. Profess-or Deni Interest nodded his head enthusiastically.
“Correct. In my assumption, I gather that many of you have money to spare since you don’t mind letting roughly $40 to $60 go to each class that you miss,” he said.
“Hence, here’s an easy fix to skipping class successfully. Now for this to work, you will need to attend the first class, in which you will be wearing a distinguishable piece of attire, whether it be a funky hat, a pair of oversized sunglasses or Hawaiian shirts. Next, find a student desperate for cash, which shouldn’t be too hard. Lastly, pay them to go to your class wearing said attire. Your professor will never know the difference.”
The students clapped with glee. The class closed with a few more insightful tips. Ed-Ward Emoff had expressed concern on letters of recommendation.
“Why yes, of course, these are very important to have,” Profess-or Deni Interest said. His eyes sparkled as he explained how exactly the students could bypass this situation.
“You will need to spy on your professor and find out what his or her favorite food or drink item is. For example, mine is Duff Beer,” he said, hoping some students would eventually buy him this beer someday.
“Next, you will need to bump into them unexpectedly, strike a conversation, preferably on a topic of interest to them (again, spying on them is key) and then buy them said food or drink item to celebrate a new friendship.”
The professor’s eyes darkened, “But be warned, they must never know too much about you, or you risk them finding out everything.”
Profess-or Deni Interest looked at the clock. There was only a few minutes left to go.
“Well class, it looks like our time is coming to an end. Please e-mail or call me if you have any questions before our next get-together,” he said with a slight smirk. As the students filed out of the classroom, he smiled and waved goodbye, knowing he would never see them again.
For you see, Profess-or Deni Interest had gotten away with being a real professor at a real college, and now, it was time for him to skip town.
Dorothy England can be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org