We love you madly but get out
For my New Media Publishing Project group this quarter, Medill has generously turned its basement computer room into a closed lab. It will be our home for the quarter. Our professor has put a sign on the door, noting its status.
But a room with an open door and no ongoing teaching is an invitation to students. Come on in, check your e-mail. Print off some stuff before class. Sit a spell. For some students, this siren song even overtakes their ability to read. They walk in and plop down. It is then up to my class to evict them, to keep some communal sense of order. We mention the "closed lab" and wait to see how angry a glare we get.
I think I have the record so far. The sleepy guy gave me a good one. He looked at me like I was solely responsible for his case of hat head. Like I had broken into his dorm room while he slept, picked up his favorite ballcap — likely bending the brim completely out of shape as well — and smushed it on his head for hours. He finished the glare and sulked out of the room.
Yesterday I put up signs around the room, mentioning the "closed" status a bit more. Just to avoid future unpleasantness. (Who likes unpleasantness?) The next time Sleepy Guy shoots me the glare, I'll point to the sign. "Just followin' the rules," I'll say with folksy charm. I don't like to play the heavy. I like to play his brother.
