Great news.

This BYU class I'm taking is just like every other class I have taken in that there are the stereotypical regulars. It's awesome. Observe:

The Loud Laugher:
Honking goose. Barking dog. Ambulance siren. Cannon fire. Blue whale mating call. Foghorn. Space shuttle launch. This guy puts them all to shame. At high frequency and with increasingly frequency he emits this sound that makes your eardrums turn inside out. And he thinks everything is so so funny funny funny.

The Nervous Leg Guy:
This guy will always and forever sit right behind you. He's always antsy and nervous and puts his foot right on the back of your chair... and for the entirety of the three hour class you feel like you're sitting in a grocery cart with three wheels that is being pushed along a dirt road at high speed. He either chugged way too much Mountain Dew before running on campus or he's got a super guilty conscience. Regardless, all of the vertebrae in your spine are slowly pooling near your butt.

The Mr. True BYU:
Wide grin, gold wire-rimmed glasses, blue BYU polo shirt tucked into jeans worn high with a belt, New Balance running shoes laced tight and tied in long droopy bows,  a "red sea-esque" part through his missionary-short gelled hair,  CTR ring, Jansport backpack with the straps pulled tight, firm handshake offered to all around him, mentions his recent return from his mission within the first 2 minutes of conversation, super nice. He sings in the Mens' Choir. He goes to Homecoming. He pronounces the "ed" on bless-ed and curs-ed and often adds "eth" to the end of any verb in the present tense (i.e. cometh, goeth, sayeth, smiteth, studyeth) When someone asks him if he will be watching the game on Saturday night, he says "The Spirit is willing but the Flesh will be studying." Go cougs. 

The "I'm-So-Smart-I-Might-As-Well-Teach-The-Class" Guy:
Someone asks a question. Professor begins to answer. A short way into the explanation, The ISSIMAWTTC Guy isn't satisfied with the answer and stands up, charging to the front of the class. The Professor looks at him in surprise. He says, "I know how to answer this, I know how to explain it. Can I have the marker?" The Professor gapes at him as he takes the marker away from the Professor. "Don't worry, it'll be okay," The ISSIMAWTTC Guy assures The Professor. He explains using charts and graphs and condescension. The questioner really just wants him to sit down so he claims that he understands. The class sits in an awkward silence. The ISSIMAWTTC Guy sits down, smirking. The Professor says, "Well... that was unconventional..." (Note: Yes, that really did just happen. Not kidding. No exaggeration.)
  
The I-Don't-Get-It-like-EVER Girl: 
 It doesn't matter what you're talking about, she's always 7 billion steps behind you. "Waywaywaywaywait, so like a fourth plus a fourth is like a eighth?" If you're on page 65, she's gazing helplessly at page 3. If you've all jumped on the bandwagon, she still hasn't heard the band's first song. If you're nearing the end of the marathon, she's still looking for her other shoe. If you're talking in words, she's still working on letters. Every member of the class becomes more and more exasperated as her hand slowly raises, her brow furrowed and mouth drawn into a frown. Eventually The I'm-So-Smart-I-Might-As-Well-Teach-The-Class Guy across the room begins explaining things to her along with the professor and others join in and pretty soon the class turns into a 33-on-1 tutoring session. But hey, she's just learning, and good for her for asking questions and she really is trying better to listen and... no... wait... oh yeah. This is my last BYU class and I don't care. Your questions are infuriating. Please don't talk anymore.

The British Guy:
He's British. Everyone loves it when he talks. The girls all find him attractive.


The Disagree-er:
He always seems to be wearing a concerned frown or raised eyebrow. He refuses to raise his whole hand when he has a comment and opts to just use his pointer finger. His life-goal seems to be saving the general public from double negatives, hyperbole, and error. He disagrees with anything and everything, is the one to point out the spelling mistakes in the syllabus, and shamelessly challenges any and all text books, case studies, published statistics, or facts. His counter-arguments are always long and wordy, he nods slowly and deeply, and he kind of smells like your grandpa. 

The Super Senior:
Disheveled. Often sleeping. Usually absent. Doesn't take notes, doesn't have a backpack, sometimes borrows a pen.

The Guy Who Uses Made-up Words: 
He's trying to sound smart. More often than not he sounds super tired. "Allow me to be a bit perfectionistical. Is the hyperpracticaliticity of the juxtapositionaling of the rectangulism formations a positivocrity or a negativistic reflection of ambidextrousitarian?" Take a nap, Merriam-Webster. 


The Thinker Before He Talks-er:
He raises his hand. The professor nods at him. He squints at the ceiling and strokes his chin with his thumb and index finger. He takes a breath. He shakes his head. He sighs. He looks up as if he's finally gathered his thoughts. You want to kick him. He finally make his comment.  It doesn't even make sense. The class applauds anyway.

The Girl That Is Almost Entirely Tuned Out Most Of The Time:
Curly hair, blue eyes, hungry, sick of school, staring at her laptop, not listening to a word the Professor is saying although she'll glance up occasionally and nod as if she's still involved... oh wait... yeah. This one is me. But I would like to point out that I have gotten 100% on both quizzes so far. Take that, multi-taskers.