Angry Dissertation of an Undergrad Student

Professors have begun to irritate me to no end. Some of my profs refuse to bring themselves down to a college student level and teach us, much less listen to any of us. Yet should I issue this complaint to any of said professors, or any adult for that matter, the common, predictable response will be along the lines of, “This is college, not high school anymore. You have to step up and be an adult. No one is going to pamper you or pander to your problems.” This sorry, hypocritical excuse just doesn’t hold water for me any longer. Professors make a big deal early in the semester about how much we, as students, are paying for our education. “You’re paying close to $100 per class,” is the usual estimate given by profs, often followed by, “So if you’d like to skip class, go ahead, but you might as well go flush a Benjamin down the toilet when you do it.” Unfortunately for some professors, I feel like over half my time while in their classes is wasted in the same manner. I think professors sometimes forget that they are, first and foremost, teachers. Too many times I have woken up, tired and disgruntled, just to attend class and learn nothing that will assist me in learning anything about the subject and receiving a worthwhile grade. I squeeze into my junior high school-sized desk to simply learn that we will be taking the vaguest of notes and then will be expected to read multiple chapters of information on our own time later on. EXCUSE ME?! If I am paying, as they so clearly stated earlier in the year, around one hundred of my well-earned dollars for this precious time the least you can do is consolidate the information to fit within the class period. Give me an assignment to determine if I learned what we went over in class, that would be fantastic, but assign me a chapter to read with a quiz on Friday and no class time dedicated to the information and I am going to become irritated. Not to mention in that case I don’t have a CLUE what is going to be on a major test like a midterm because they have stretched out the info so thin between notes and random textbooks. I don’t want this to come across as cockiness or like I feel that I can teach a college-level class, because I can not, yet in some situations I have had classmates ask me in class to explain what the professor tried to teach just moments before. This is not my job, but because I am concerned for people I help the classmates out. Then, I get yelled at for helping out because I am talking in the middle of class. Entirely, completely, utterly, (insert another superlative adverb) frustrating.
More specifically for one of my professors: languages are possibly the most difficult subjects to learn from scratch. X Language 101 must be taught from the beginning. A professor can’t jump into the middle of a language course and expect his students to be able to teach themselves the nuances of this brand new tongue. The best, and possibly only, way to teach a new dialect is through repetition! Repetición, repetición, repetición! Get it? You would because I went over it four times, not barely mentioned it once and told you to read about it in the book. Did I mention there will be a test on Wednesday? No? Oh, too bad. I think I mentioned it, which is all that matters because I’m teaching right?