By SARAH LEWIS, Editor-in-Chief

If there were one place on campus that makes me feel more awkward than a wannabe ninja turtle rolling around on my mediocre looking shell, it would have to be the classrooms.

Now, do I feel uncomfortable in every one of my classes? No, because sometimes I have classes with peers I actually enjoy, enlightening professors, and no peasants. But sometimes, oh sometimes, I can’t help but internally scream, “Is this real life?” in my classes.

The semester is over halfway done…WOOOOOAHHHH, we’re halfway there. You’d think by this time in the semester people would understand the unspoken rule of assigned seating. This is not elementary school, but even though the professor doesn’t choose our seats, does not mean there isn’t assigned seating.

By the second class of the semester, the seating roster is on lockdown. You do not have a chance to switch your seat after this time. Why? Because it is common courtesy, and everyone sits in the same seat after the first week. If you’re the inconsiderate lout who decides to sit in a different seat, congratulations, you just ruined the entire class for the day.

Recently, some fool decided to take my seat. The seating chart was long ago chosen, bucko, I thought to myself as I stared him down and lurked to the opposite side of the classroom thus stealing someone else’s seat. It’s a domino effect, you see? It’s NEVER ENDING. Even the professor was confused when he took attendance. He looked around the unfamiliar classroom setup causing attendance to take three times as long.

The painful class didn’t stop there, dear readers, oh no. Turns out my new seat was directly in front of the world’s most blundering blossoming couple. These two were just…odd. It was the beginning of a new relationship, and I had a front row seat…literally. I then realized why the oaf had exchanged that seat for my old one, but I still didn’t like him.

The odd couple whispered throughout the entire class. They talked about the strangest things…bagel flavors, rubbers bands that go on braces, and curling (the sport…). Their conversation and forced chuckles were enough to make me want to rip out my hair, and theirs for that matter.

Every class has the person who pipes up and gives their input on EVERY single subject explained by the professor. If you think there isn’t one in your classes, you are that person.

On that day, the class opinionist decided to go off on a tangent during class discussion about how she ran into an elderly man at the grocery store and they discussed different types of granola for twenty-five minutes.

I didn’t care about any of this, and neither did anyone else, but the lovebirds took this as an opportunity to begin passing a note back and forth. I came thisclose to turning around, snatching the note, and tearing it to shreds and throwing the pieces at Chatty Cathy in the front row…but I held back.

Then the class “comedian” dived at his opportunity to make a funny and called from the back of the room in a terrible Peter Griffin voice, “Oh my God, who the hell cares?”

Juliet behind me giggled at the joke, and Romeo got jealous that his woman was laughing at a man who wasn’t him. He stepped up his game and made a joke about cucumbers that no one but me laughed at, obviously I laughed ironically.

At this point, I felt like I was losing it because the mixture of the people in this class created a disaster zone, and I had been lucky enough to stay far away from all of this until the seat stealer forced me into the melee.

The lecture, which had actually been interesting (props to my professor), finally ended, and I dashed out of my “seat.” I made sure to skirt rather close to the villain who stole my original seat, hissing at him ever so slightly under my breath.

Moral of the story is, one seat stealer can throw off the groove of an entire classroom, so don’t do it. EVER.

By the way, I get to that class ten minutes early now as I proudly watch the seat stealer sulk to his seat in front of the couple who seem to be experiencing their first lover’s spat.