Professor Nikolaev doesn’t even introduce himself when he enters class. In the first five minutes, he offers to let us out early, or keep us until midnight, and then threatens to kick the book store’s ass if they don’t have his texts. Of course, it takes the class 10 minutes to get the jokes and trash-talk through his thick Russian accent. He doesn’t offer where he’s from, I’m only guessing.
I registered to study international communication this semester. There’s about 20 students in the class, some who were born and raised in foreign countries. I recognize nobody from past classes. Although it is a seminar, we do not go around the room and introduce ourselves. I always like doing that because it gives me a chance to size up my classmates. Drexel is not that competitive, but I am. Usually, I’m the oldest in class and one of the few with a spouse and child and a full-time job outside of Drexel University - a stand-out from demographics alone. This time, I’m one of the oldest, but am among at least a dozen professionals, even though they’re all dressed like youthful, trendy college co-eds. I may take a fashion tip or two from them.
The class is being held in a building that is new to me on 33rd and Arch Streets. I like it despite the view of exhaust pipes out of our window. I’m looking forward to the class content because I write a newsletter for a global audience in my professional life. Nikolaev promises heated discussions about religion, politics and gender. He says to those easily offended to drop the class. He asks that we talk about our opinions with intelligence. He says that the readings will be fun and infuriating – one of the texts is: Why do People Hate America? This class couldn’t have happened at a juicier time in American history since I’ve been a student of higher education. I’m totally psyched.
Nikolaev dismisses us in a half hour. I wonder campus in the light rain.
