Everything we weren’t taught

After four years of writing for Pipe Dream, and after 46 columns discussing issues from cheese to feminism, my 47th article was my final, goodbye column.

“On the first day of my senior year at Binghamton University, I navigated my way through the infamously confusing Engineering Building to find myself a seat in my classroom.

My class began at 1:10 p.m., But by 1:25 p.m., my classmates and I were still anxiously awaiting the arrival of our professor.

When he didn’t show, I was dismayed. What a poor start to the beginning of the end of my college career.

Was this how my last year at BU would go? Would I have to be taught by a lackadaisical professor who missed the first day of class? Or was this the fault of the beloved BU Registrar? Regardless of the circumstances, I was disappointed.

The next class, I arrived eager to see what kind of professor would be teaching me for the next few months. My professor stood calmly in front of our classroom. “I apologize for missing class yesterday,” he announced. “My wife gave birth.””

Read the full article here 

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