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[ Kane Webb ] Inter-office Memo Off Courses Sophomore year at the University of Missouri, I took a two- hour elective called Sociological and Psychological Perspectives of Sports. Te most interesting thing about the class turned out to be the name of it. Te women's basketball coach taught Sociological, etc., in what passed for a classroom in the basement of the old gymnasi- um. Te room smelled like an over-chlorinated swimming pool flavored with a hint of mildew-y sweat socks. In retrospect, the class itself qualified as a study on the sociological and cultural perspectives of sports, or at least athletes. I was one of only two non-athletes to brave Psy/Sports, as it was provocatively abbrevi- ated on the course list. Te rest were football players — mostly the skill-position guys — and men's and women's basketball players. I'll give 'em this: Tey showed up. Of course, that was about the only requirement. On the first day, the coach/instruc- tor — known officially and reverentially as, naturally, "Coach" — assigned homework: Find a story in a magazine or newspaper that has something to do with sports but not just the games themselves, then write one paragraph about the story. One paragraph. Somebody asked how many lines that would be. Tree or four sentences, "Coach" said. Te next class, "Coach" collected the assignment . . . from me and the other non-athlete. "Coach" revised the homework. Tis time, just find the story, make a photocopy of it, and turn it in. No writing — hell, no reading — required. Tat was the last assignment of the semester. I got a B for the course. So did the power forward on the men's basketball team, the fullback on the football team and the shooting guard on the women's basketball team, who, by the way, had the smoothest jump shot on campus and held her hair charmingly in place during games with white medical tape. Turns out everybody got a B. I guess A's across the board would have looked suspicious? You know the worst part? Te sports teams were a collective bust. A round of Gentlemen's B's couldn't guarantee a minor bowl game, much less a conference title. Shoulda given us all C's. What was the worst class you took in college? I loved ceramics when I was in high school. I was the Clay Queen. When I decided to take a ceram- ics course in college, I thought it would be a breeze. It came down to the final, which was a presentation of 100 ceramic pieces. I had fin- ished three. (One was this crazy coil chicken idol I made to protect our chicken coop, which would have been hard to explain.) So instead of taking the final, I took off for James Dean's grave in nearby Fairmount, Ind. Sorry, Mom. I think it was a good class but, at the time, I was a bad student. Suki Anderson Art director I took this sociology class about an- imals, and the professor was one of those ladies who I just know lived with lots of cats. I know this be- cause she never shut up about those damn cats — Socks and Pebbles and Gunther. Actually, I don't re- member the names of her cats, but I'll bet I'm not far off. We watched a bunch of grainy videos with warped sound (VCR! Te nerve!), and I never learned how to talk to dogs. Josh Moss Managing editor It's hard to think that far back, but I do recall a terrible graduate- level Shakespeare course taught by a haughty, humorless, old-school Virginian, who brushed off student input like lint (except from the sy- cophants!) and managed to make the discussion of Troilus and Cres- sida — Shakespeare's most perplex- ing anti-war, anti-love tragedy — as dull as dishwater. Jack Welch Senior editor [6] LOUISVILLE MAGAZINE 11.12 Statistics was dreadful. I would watch every minute on the clock crawl by. I was actually good at it, but the instructor taught us as though we were in kindergarten, speaking slo-o-o-wly and encourag- ing class participation — at 8 a.m.! I felt as if I were in Ben Stein's class in Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Mary Chellis Austin Editorial intern It all started with aliphatic com- pounds, E2 mechanisms, cyclohex- ane chairs and a German teaching assistant who would bark at me in her thick accent, as I would try to draw out reactions, "It is wrong! Do it again!" Organic chemistry. I needed two semesters of it to gradu- ate. I was ready to tell them to take their aldehydes and shove 'em. I would just slip down to the Keys and work on a sailboat or bartend. What good is a biology degree any- way? But my friend Chad Ladusaw pulled me through, made me study and did the tree pose (very calming) with me before exams. And what good is a biology degree? It will get you a job working for a magazine. Tanks, Chad! Melissa Duley Associate editor My professor met privately with me to deliver the results of an early-se- mester Intermediate French assess- ment: Perhaps I should drop to a beginning level. Or switch to Span- ish. But I soldiered on, studying my derrière off — spending more time on that class than the rest of my courses combined. My rewards: a Gentleman's C and advancing to French Literature the next semester. Some fates, in fact, cannot be sur- mounted by scorn, M. Camus. Zach Everson Editor, Louisville.com