A tense stand-off has erupted in a tutorial taking place in Seminar Room 2344 in GMIT.
The history tutorial – focusing on whether the fact that Eamonn DeValera looked quite like a sad raven had a destabilising effect on Irish politics in the 1920s and 30s – had originally been progressing as well as any 9am tutorial could.
In spite of the class only being some 40% full, the tutor, Professor Churley, had been gamely ploughing through his extensive Powerpoint presentation, unperturbed by the evident disinterest on the sparse selection of blank faces that stared back at him.
Yet, as Professor Churley stoicially pressed on, expertly expounding on a series of photographs which detailed just how Mr. DeValera's nose ought better be described as a beak, a wave of unease spread through the class.
According to transcripts of messages exchanged between two members of the class - obtained by CollegeTimes through use of a Russian hacking service we pay a, surprisingly affordable, monthly subscription to - their tutor had been planning on hosting a Q&A session on the topic at the end of the class.
As the cruel hands of time ticked toward the end of the hour, and the last few slides – illustrating how Mr. DeValera's tendency to hold walnuts in his mouth and try crack them against a hard, flat surface was behaviour absolutely typical of a raven – flickered on screen, the class knew that the question they dreaded was coming.
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“Any questions.”
The words hung in the air, like a bad smell – but a smell made of words. The time of the fateful question, 9:43am. Professor Churley looked at the students. The students looked at Professor Churley.
It is now 17:00 and very little has changed. Some seven hours have since passed and the silence still hangs heavy in the air, like a bad smell – but this time, a smell made of silence. It is reportedly, the most painfully awkward situation anyone in the room has ever been invovled in – to put this in perspective one of the students concerned was once caught, by his parents, coaxing three stray dogs to lick marinara sauce of his bare chest.
It is so awkward in fact that one of the students, our of sheer anxiety, ate a pencil case. It did little to alleviate any tension.
There are no signs of the situation abating. With none of the students having done any of the requisite work and the beleagured Mr. Churley at the end of his tether, tired of pandering to them, he is refusing to back down.
Other classes scheduled to use the room have been postponed and one cleaner, who valiantly tried to clean around the awkward students, staring at the desks, was so overcome by the uncomfortable tension that they drink some window cleaning fluid in order that they be airlifted to hospital.
We reached out to one of the students involved for comment, but were met by a stony silence.
