The Adam Boy

CHAPTER 8 - UNIVERSITY

The school year finally started in university. Since I started studying, I found myself easily. I felt more at ease in college than in my own home. It said that the university building that was my home. Its corridors, its library, its rough ramps, its plants and trees where the students rested, everything made me feel good there. During the holidays I spent many hours watching the grade of courses I was going to take during the year. Read and reread. I was excited when I knew I would have Photojournalism, Online Journalism, Theory of Culture, Semiotics.

When, on the second day of February, on a Tuesday, classes for veterans started, I couldn't wait to be able to go. The day before the hoax, but I did not participate. When I was on my way to college and entered the capacity that took the students there, something soon discouraged me a little; I remembered that my room was unbearably unbearable. I know this can be pleonasm, but if I could put it as unbearably unbearably unbearable, I would. I had never seen a room for college students that stupid like that. It was true that this was the only university room I had attended, but from what was said, it was nothing like mine. In my first year I had just over 120 students. They were people with very different purposes from each other. Some wanted to pursue a career as a journalist, others just wanted to appear on TV, others wanted to get rich, others were there it was not known for what, some because they thought that in the journalism course they would not need to make calculations and others nor had purposes. I have in my mind perfectly a case that happened in the first classes: my professor of Communication Theory asked a student who was sitting in front to read a few paragraphs of the book. The student started to read, but it was a reading that even a little boy in pre-primary education would read better. He stuttered so much and did not know how to read the commas or respect the points. I put my head down in my wallet, because I was ashamed of myself and I was ashamed of being in a journalism room with an individual from that being my competitor. The teacher, as he had high common sense, immediately asked him why he read so badly, that this was not good for a journalist. He responded in such a pathetic and silly way that it made me nauseous. He was the cheerful fool himself.

"But I don't want to be a journalist," he said in the most abused voice I've ever heard.

"If you don't want to be a journalist, what do you intend to be then?", tried the teacher.

"Do not know!", Well worthy of himself an answer as pathetic as.

Other than that, my room had something else that irritated me a lot: they were so childish people, so clueless about things that whenever a teacher used an example of a football team, the room soon lost focus and made an abominable fuze, that it took several minutes to bring them back to concentration. And it seemed that one of the teachers, also not smart, loved to use examples using the name of Corinthians, knowing that the assholes in the room were going to have a party and change the subject, leaving aside the activity in question in the discipline of Communication History to speak of the fourth game.

When the capacity stopped in front of one of the university buildings, I went down without much hope of meeting new people or a renovated room. I knew that the drop in the compulsory degree of journalism would cause many to give up and no one new to enter the room. But I hoped that a good part of the clueless would have given up, because if they were all, there would only be a maximum of ten students left and they would have to end the journalism course due to lack of students.

Class divisions in classes were already done. Part of the class was going to stay in the labs, while the other was going to the theoretical classes on the sixth floor. When I arrived at the classroom, that on that first day all the students were together for the presentations of the subjects, they were already with several students already familiar greeting each other, hugging each other and talking about how much they missed each other. I am not an antisocial person, I spoke with everyone, but I did not stop in any small group, because those who were still there were those of the clueless. I was worried. I knew Dani wasn't going to be there. From my group I also knew that another boy had closed the enrollment due to lack of funds. A girl wanted to study at another college, but as she survived by suing companies to pay off debts, He had informed me that he had not yet processed any and that he therefore had no money to study. I watched people in my office in the hall, laughing, talking loudly. Some were looking at me from the living room window. Did they look at me and think "look at the clueless there, waiting for your clueless group"?