Dear Gen Ed professors,Hey there, sirs and madams. My name is Chris Slattery. I don’t know if you remember me or not (I was not a star pupil, by any means) but I remember you, all of you. Not names, because I’m not really a “names” kind of guy. I’m also not a “hat” kind of guy either, but that has nothing to do with this column. Perhaps some other time.

Going to Grand Valley State University forced me to take some classes I would not have thought (wanted) to take. Without the requirement, there is no way I would be caught dead in these classes — unless my body was dumped there after some botched murder (likely involving a hat) — because they do nothing and if they disappeared forever, I could not care any less. You may call them “science” or “math” or “Spanish,” but I have words far more austere for them. Most of them involve obscenities, as well, and ever since I gave up swearing for Lent, I’ve been doing very well, thank you very much.

Anyway, the whole reason I wanted to talk is to apologize for avoiding you all. I may not be a “name” (or “hat”) guy, but I’m definitely a “face” guy and as soon as I see one of your familiar, intimidating faces around campus, I immediately circumvent the situation and hide like a child.

It’s not necessarily cowardice that is the cause of my avoidance of each of you. Rather, I just hate awkward situations, especially ones that make me look stupid. Granted, I am a pretty stupid person already (emphasis on the “pretty,” wink-wink), but let me explain.

Whenever I’ve had the misfortune of running into a gen ed professor of mine, without fail you come to the inaccurate conclusion that we only have one thing in common: the class we had together. What you fail to realize is that all of that information (about things I didn’t care about in the first place) you attempted to drill into my head, left my brain forever the second I walked out of that final exam.

This is nothing against you as professors, or even as people. It’s just that derivatives weren’t ever really my thing. In fact, the only reason I took your class in the first place was to impress a girl, and after we broke up, any remote motivation I had became a remainder of zero.

Foreign language professors are the worst because every single word that comes out of their mouth is in some secret code that I’ve never been able to crack. “Komo ess toss?” What does that even mean, professor?! Did you cover this while I was doodling in the back of the class?

Essentially, I apologize I didn’t retain more information you taught me. I assume you are all complex individuals who have many interesting topics to talk about, but I have not seen this yet. “Did you see ‘The Hunger Games’ over the weekend?” That’s a good start.

I mean, I’m not a “Hunger Games” guy, either, so that was probably a bad example…

Love,

Chris “not a ‘hat’ guy” Slattery

[email protected]