So I had my first (and last for now) philosophy class today and I thought I was gona murder somebody. Our teacher is nutty, as expected for a philosophy teacher, and says that the way our class would work is to take our personal issues and relate them through the class in way of philosophy. That's my first strike; if I want to tell somebody my problems or hear other people's problems, I'd go to counseling. Second; I have 3 poets in the class, 1 is OK, another is a pompous "I'm a poet so I'm more intelligent than you" asshole type. Third is an idiot girl who's most memorable question of the day was, "If I had different parents, would I be a different person?" and I yelled 'YES! Of course you would, how dumb can you be?" (I almost felt bad after that). Second strike. Third; we each have to come up with a question and ask the teacher, other people asked "what's the meaning of life" and all that jazz, so I asked "Why is it necessary to question what already is?" He was intrigued because he said "I've taken the entire purpose of the class and flipped it on it's ass". THEN, he tells us that everybody has to take their question and write our final paper on that... shitty, a paper on a question that can't be answered. And my final annoyance was when somebody said "When people get sick, it's philosophical and right for them to ask 'why did it happen to me?" and the teacher asked for responses so I said "Who cares why? It happened, you have to deal with it. Why waste your time asking yourself WHY it happened when you should be asking yourself how to fix it, how to prevent it from happening again, and how to prepare yourself for the future?"
Man I was ripped. I hate that class and I hate philosophy. The end.