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I recently enrolled in a course on Human-Computer Interaction (HCI) — an elective that immediately caught my interest. Not because it seemed easy, but because I was genuinely curious. I saw it as an opportunity to explore a new area, learn something that aligns with my interests, and gain insights into how we interact with technology.
The class is conducted online by a professor who, as far as I know, is currently abroad, possibly engaged in research. Despite the distance, she’s giving us her time and effort to teach this subject. That’s something I respect deeply.
But unfortunately, what I experienced in the classroom left me more frustrated than inspired.
I arrived at the classroom on time, ready to engage with the lecture. But from the moment I walked in, it didn’t feel like a space designed for learning. Students were strolling in at their convenience — 10, 20, even 30 minutes late — chatting, laughing, and treating the class more like a break room than a place of study.
I found my seat, assuming that at least some of us were there to learn. But the noise never really settled. Friends grouped up, phones came out, conversations continued, and students kept entering. No sense of discipline. No sign of courtesy — neither for the professor’s time nor for their own.
I tried to focus. I really did.
But the constant interruptions made it nearly impossible to concentrate. The professor’s voice, already coming through a screen, was drowned out by side conversations. I found myself questioning how students in their 7th semester of engineering could be this indifferent to a subject, to the faculty, or even to their own time.
Some might say I could’ve stood up and asked everyone to quiet down. But here’s the thing — many of them are more outspoken, more confident, maybe even more qualified in their own ways. And honestly, I don’t think students at this level should need to be told to behave in a class.
My irritation grew. My friend beside me was scrolling through his phone, just like many others. I felt myself slipping into the same rhythm. But then I paused — this isn’t how I want to spend my time.
I Chose Differently So, after attending for about 30 minutes and giving my attendance, I left. Quietly. No drama. I just chose to spend my time doing something meaningful instead of sitting in a space that clearly wasn’t meant for learning that day.
And now, I’ve made up my mind — if the same thing happens again, I’ll do the same again. I’ll attend, give attendance, and leave if the environment doesn’t support focused learning.
What bothers me isn’t just the noise. It’s the lack of respect — for the professor who’s teaching us from another country, for the subject itself, and for our own time and growth. We often forget that learning is a choice — and a privilege. And if we treat it like a joke, we only waste what could’ve been a meaningful part of our journey.
To those who care — keep caring. To those who don’t — maybe it’s time to ask why you’re even in that seat.
Until next time.