Please never invite Dr. [redacted] to lecture again. This was the worst lecture I have heard ever. I have heard people lecture in undergrad, med school, and every Sunday for 26 years, and never have I been so torn between destroying the PA system to prevent everyone else from suffering or ripping my ears off and stuffing them in my external auditory meatus to prevent my own further suffering. When half the class leaves during the break to never return and the other half wakes up after break and realizes that they missed their opportunity to leave and let out a collective wail of despair, you know something is amiss.
Then there was this little gem:
If Dr. [redacted]'s name is on the schedule for next semester, I will gladly take the loss of points rather than submit myself to the auditory torture that was her last lecture.
Or how about:
The tests for this class did not accurately reflect the presented material. It was as if they stapled the lecture notes to the wall and then hired Stevie Wonder to throw darts at them. Wherever the darts struck was what was tested, regardless of relevance.
And lest you think that it's all bad out here:
When Dr. [redacted] told me in front of everyone that I was going to great in this class, I was elated. When he added the part about me doing great as I repeated the class again next year, I was a little less excited. A small part of me died that day.
Oh wait, that wasn't as happy as I intended. Let's try one last one:
Dr. [redacted] really improved his lecturing. If he continues to lecture the way he did for his final lecture of the semester, I will be fighting to sit in the front row just so a little of his awesomeness might diffuse into me. He was funny, poignant, and concise. I may just consider naming my next child after him, regardless of gender.
