I sat at the back of the lecture hall today and it was big news.
My reason for this seemingly odd behaviour was this: I didn't get a seat that I wanted and I didn't want to be too physically close to my lecturer. When I met a friend who started asking me academic questions, I told him straightaway that I'd sit beside him and answer whatever query he had.
For the first time ever, I experienced cognitive psychology lecture from the back of the class. It felt less intense because my course mates around me were laidback, though attentive. The downside of it was I couldn't hear my lecturer quite as clearly as I did in previous lectures. Especially her jokes. She made numerous jokes but I couldn't catch them all, hearing only laughter from my friends.
Over the break a few friends came to me and quizzed me about my seating choice.
"What happened to you today?" and "Why sit at the back?" were the commonest ones. They thought I had some sort of fall-out with some friend or that I was angry about some matter ... when in fact I was perfectly fine, just slightly hungry.
I was choosing my afternoon snack at a downstairs stall when I saw, out of the tail of my eye, a former tutor and a current lecturer, both of whom I have been earnestly avoiding. The tutor left, but not before he tried to make eye contact with me. The lecturer was paying his bill, and he took quite a long time to do it. I pretended to be interested in some bread and couldn't make up my mind. Finally I settled on oat biscuits.
Near the bank of elevators, I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw no trace of the aforementioned lecturer. In the previous semester, that lecturer marked my assignment, gave me the highest score and from what I heard from my friends, praised me effusively, his choice of words being "excellent, excellent, excellent". Some if not all of the tutors had read my work but I don't know what their thoughts were, so it's best I avoid any unnecessary contact with them. Because of this high score, a few weeks back two groups of friends tried to get me on their own team. How hard they fought. How torn I felt. All because of that freaking assignment.
As the elevator doors slid open, the lecturer whom I avoided just now came into view (it was exactly like in the movies). I had no other choice but to go in, along with a female stranger. The girl got off at the third floor, leaving my lecturer and I to our awkward ascent.
You know the common myth that psychologists read minds? Actually we don't, but we usually have keen powers of observation. At least I know I'm observant, and my lecturer is way more observant than me.
Before the girl left, my lecturer was like a good boy - hands by his side and eyes staring straight ahead (I guessed). I was standing firmly on both feet, my hands by my side, with my right hand gently holding my packet of biscuits. He stood towards the back of the elevator, while I kept my place near the doors.
After the girl left, I clasped my hands in front of me, but still retained the same posture and kept my eyes staring fixedly ahead. My lecturer let loose of his body, swinging his arms and shifting his feet, almost as if dancing solo. At one point, the elevator's light bounced off his watch. I think he was trying to engage me. Still I didn't move.
When the doors opened again, my lecturer recomposed himself and hurried off to his office like he had some urgent business. If he is the powerful intellect I know him to be, he would have picked up on my body language and interpreted it as none other than fear.
