Psychology professor, Roy Gilkins, has been teaching at the University of Minnesota for over 30 years. This semester, however, he was given the responsibility of teaching one of the biggest online courses to date: Interpersonal Collegiate Relationships. This course will focus on how humans interact, specifically examining how students ask questions and talk to one another in the classroom.
“What better way to learn about human interaction, than pretending to listen to a lecture on your computer, alone in your room with your hands in your pants?” gushed educational expert and man-who-never-had-toys-as-a-child, Philip Blake. “And I can’t think of a better expert in the field of human, interactive psychology than Roy Gilkins. He’ll do a great job.”
Professor Gilkins started his online course off strong by giving a thirty-minute video lecture facing away from the camera.
“You must understand that facial expressions and body language tell us a lot more about a person than their actual words,” said Gilkins to the empty projection screen behind him, “So, in this class, I expect you to watch your fellow students very carefully as they answer questions.”
Dr. Roy Gilkins then paused, awaiting questions from what he thought was a live video chat. After five minutes of excruciating silence, the professor began to get angry, astonished that nobody was participating. This anger soon turned to confusion as Dr. Roy Gilkins realized that he couldn’t see any of his students on his 1997 Macintosh desktop computer.
“Just a second,” mumbled professor Gilkins at least eleven times whilst hopelessly trying to fix machinery he didn’t understand.
Seventeen minutes later, Roy Gilkins, a man with a doctorate in interpersonal psychology, gave up trying to see his students on the screen.
“I’ll figure it out later,” said Gilkins.
The world-renowned psychologist and professor then turned off his dusty Macintosh and proceeded to cry into the fingers that had held his red pen aloft for so many years, making or breaking the hopes and dreams of thousands of students. Unfortunately, while the Macintosh’s screen had gone black, the camera was still recording and the last five minutes of Dr. Gilkin’s lecture were somehow more uncomfortable than any excruciating silence.
When interviewed about the class, U of M sophomore and Mall of America employee, Miles Hotdish, replied, “The second lecture was just him trying to Skype his son in Atlanta. I guess I AM learning a lot about his interpersonal relationships.”
After a week of no activity from Dr. Roy Gilkins on the course website, a folder marked “Porn” has popped up as week four required reading. This folder has remained unopened by anyone for three straight days, as students are terrified to risk finding out what the seventy year-old is into sexually.
“I don’t want to fail this class just because some old guy doesn’t know how to use a computer,” said needlessly harsh senior, Reid Emmons.
The following week Gilkins posted several personal chain emails about Harambe the Gorilla to the course website under the header “Quiz.” Students have reluctantly forwarded them on, afraid that it was part of the course.