Not sure why I thought of this today, but I'm going to tell you a story from my two years spent at Kwantlen University College (later changed to Kwantlen University, later changed again to Kwantlen Polytechnic University... just pick a fucking name and still with it, perhaps.)
In my second year there, I was taking political science class that I now rank as probably the second-worst class I ever took in university; the first being two-semester art/photography class I took at the University College of the Cariboo, which is now Thompson Rivers University (editor's note: can't any school keep its name the same?)
Anyways, this course was focused on Canadian politics, and was taught by a horrible shrew of a an old woman who had no teaching skills, whatsoever. Every class was the same thing – she'd throw some notes on the overhead projector, and we were supposed to copy them down.
For three straight hours.
(I've often wondered why she didn't just made 30 copies of these notes and hand 'em out to us, but then I realized – if she did it that much more efficient way, what would she do for the three hours of class time?)
She was also a huge NDP booster/member, and being that it was a political science class, it gave her ample opportunity to espouse her left-wing NDP viewpoints and opinions. It was an election year, if I remember correctly, and at one point she even handed out NDP buttons to the entire class. Now, I'm not what I'd call politically active and while I don't necessarily dislike the NDP, I did not appreciate having paid for a class only to receive political propaganda.
On this occasion, I declined said button. This upset her.
A few weeks later, we were required to write opinion essays about a certain political topic. I believe I chose immigration. And because I enjoy playing devil's advocate (and being an asshole) I chose an anti-immigration opinion. I knew, as a staunch lefty, this would piss her off.
So I wrote a well-reasoned essay, complete with facts, sources, footnotes, etc... and handed it in. A week later, it was returned to me with a large "FAIL" written along the top of the cover page. Underneath that was scribbled the following: "This opinion is wrong."
I was understandably pissed off. If she quibbled with my facts, my sources, my writing style - anything of the sort – and failed me because of that, well, what can I do? But to fail me because she did not share my opinion? Well, that didn't fly with me.
After complaining loudly and, let's face it, probably pretty rudely, I left the class. The next day I went to whatever administrative body that handles teacher complaints, and explained the situation. I'd like to fill an official complaint, I said.
The response?
"Don't bother. We have some many complaints against her already, one more is not going to make a difference."
In the end, I passed the course – I may even have got a pass on the essay in the end, I can't really recall – and I don't believe Mrs. NDP taught much longer, but still, this is the kind of education I got for the first two years after high school.
(And truth be told, most of my university profs at Kwantlen were awful. For many, many reasons. But this woman was the absolute worst.)
Community college, FTW.