Snow, snow, snow, snow!

It's snowing, but it doesn't look like a happy snow. You know, the kind with the big fat flakes that drift down and settle on your face like a kiss from the sky. The kind of snow where you step outside and you can feel the quietness in the air, that blankets the world in white and makes it look like the world is clean and new.

Yeah, not that kind.

It's a wet, drifting snow that's swirled around by the wind and always seems to get under your collar or scarf. Worst of all, there's no accumulation, and if there's no accumulation that means there will be class, and if there's class that means that theoretically I should be going to it. I keep refreshing the New School's website and looking for a cancellation notice, but I'm not seeing one yet.

The thing is, I don't even mind my classes. Tonight it's Kierkegaard, whose writings I've enjoyed quite a bit so far. To a certain extent, I feel my reluctance to go to classes stems from intellectual snobbery. Honestly, in discussions in class I don't hear much that I haven't already thought of upon reading the text. Part of the problem is inherent in studying philosophy; you see, there are 3 or 4 types of people who take philosophy. One is the older student, frequently talkative in class and just as frequently with little of note to say. A part of it, I think, stems from the fact that they are more of a contemporary to the professor, and so assume a relationship closer to friendship than that of student-prof is more appropriate. At times, with an older student in the class, it can degenerate into a private conversation held with 10 other people in the room listening.

The next type is the slacker. These are the people who take philosophy because it sounds cool, but don't ever do the readings. Inevitably they come into class and share their opinions, which are useless because they have little or no bearing on the question, or because if they'd done the reading and understood the reading, they might have found the philosopher's answer to their opinion and might have been able to present a more cogent argument against it. These are the people who raise their hands and say, "I don't know if I agree with that, because this one time I was out with my friends at the mall, and we...um.......it's like when you....I don't know...do you know what I mean?" NO, I DO NOT KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN, YOU PRETENTIOUS FUCK, BECAUSE YOU CAN'T EXPRESS YOURSELF IN A COHERENT SENTENCE. STOP WASTING MY TIME AND MONEY.

The third type is the majority of philosphy classes - the average student. They may or may not get the readings, but they don't raise their hands in class to ask about things.

The fourth type is the know-it-all. Typically you'll have one and only one of these in each class, but you'll know exactly who they are the first day of class. They're the ones who come into philosophy thinking they know all the answers, who judge writings and their validity without really understanding what the writer is trying to say. It's like the zen concept of the teacup. If you are not going into a philosophy class with the intention of understanding (or doing your best to understand, in some cases) the arguments of a philosopher, what's the goddamn point? Yes, you can disagree with a philosopher's conclusions, but in order to do so and not be a complete dumbass, you must first understand said conclusions and their reasons. Chances are most of them were smarter than any of us; you're not going to waltz into your first class on Kant and tear apart his whole philosophy, so don't try.

If I sound bitter and angry about some of that, it's because I am. I'm really ok with that - living in New York does quite a bit to put you in touch with your anger. I don't appreciate people wasting my money because they haven't done their work. At the very least, if you haven't done the reading or can't remember exactly what your point is, shut the hell up and hope the professor doesn't ask you any questions directly. If you don't understand something, by all means ask, but don't make assumptions based on a faulty reading and then launch into some huge diatribe about how the philospher in question is totally wrong, because chances are you'll end up looking stupid. And then you look stupid and I hate you with all the passion of one too many classes on Plato's Republic. And that's just not a happy place to be.