Written by Paige Riding, Humour Editor
As Dr. Galicken’s PSYC 392 course started this week, he was infuriated to see half of the Zoom call participants turn off their cameras and the other half visibly roll their eyes when he asked them to open the course’s textbook.
“Come on, people. Is this really how you want to start the new semester?” Galicken sighed, adjusting the pink cat-ear-endowed gaming headset he had to borrow from his daughter.
“I sent an email regarding all the required materials for this course. It would do you good to check your email once in a while,” he grumbled, flapping his arms out of habit of teaching large crowds in the Images Theatre. This habit inspired his nickname “Chickalicken,” coined by a previous PSYC 100 course during a discussion on short-term memory.
The senior professor’s interpretive dance cut off as a message reflected in his rage-filled eyes.
“ya ok but u emailed us the syllabus at like 11pm last night,” a student had typed into the Zoom call’s chat.
Galicken slowly raised his fingers to his temples, taking a moment to collect himself before responding. He was so used to students fearing speaking up in person that he only expected looks of disoriented fear from his lectures. That had all changed with this online stuff and the new chat box option. There was discussion? During his three hour lecture?
“Listen, you had time to make arrangements. School preparation really needs to be your top priority,” he said finally to his students trying to live through a global pandemic.
Despite the entire class being muted, a collective sigh was heard from the 8:30 a.m. class.
“I tried to buy it but the bookstore was sold out 🙁“ typed another student, mostly annoyed that this was the course she was stuck with thanks to SFU hating third-years. A late enrolment date stuck her with this professor who wasn’t accommodating at all and has at least 94 Funko Pop figurines visible in the background of his video.
Galicken glanced at the chat and huffed.
“In my old age, I shouldn’t be the one who has to tell you this, but there are these things called ebooks here in the modern age!” Galicken sneered, a wave of nostalgia hitting him from the old days of publicly shaming any student who did dare to ask a question.
Another message popped up in the chat saying, “Bro you made us get this weird exclusive edition with supplementary stuff at the end. Only the physical book has that.”
“Who are you to call me ‘bro?!’ Listen, everyone, I already have my degrees. This is about you. Make all the excuses you want, but at the end of the day, you are the one in charge of your education. You need to work in my course,” said Galicken, cursing under his breath as his iPhone 4 charger got caught in his chair’s wheels.
At this point, 27 students signed off the call and in a bout of self-care, dropped the class immediately.
With no textbook or positive outlook for the class in sight, Dr. Galicken flapped his arms once again and decided to continue lecturing, only to be stopped by failing to know how to share his screen.
