Kathryn Pellicotte ‘29
Just Making Up Names for Stuff
Sometimes you know it’s going to happen, and sometimes it comes from out of the blue. The Cold Call – a phrase that inspires an uncomfortable and inescapable feeling of dread. It’s a student’s worst nightmare. If you can somehow manage to answer the question correctly, then you’re brilliant. But if you get it wrong…well, you might as well sit in the corner with a DUNCE cap. Yes, this may feel extreme, but this is the reality for many students. One such student, whom we shall call Bobby for the sake of privacy, has graciously opened up about his personal cold-call experience for the benefit of his peers.
Bobby was your typical model student. He completed all of his assignments on time, studied hard when he felt it was necessary, and was doing very well indeed. He was doing very well, that is, until he decided to take a course in political science.
It was a typical Tuesday, and Bobby was already ready for the weekend. As usual, a dense reading assignment had been assigned, but Bobby wasn’t too concerned. He pretended to be alert during the class discussion, but his mind kept drifting away. Did he have plans this weekend? That orange chicken better not be for dinner again… Just as the best dreams are shattered by our alarm clock, poor Bobby was abruptly torn from his thoughts by the sound of his first name. Twenty pairs of eyes zeroed in on his face with great interest. How does one form words again? Bobby tried to twist his face into a thoughtful expression, hoping that the professor would have mercy on him, but it was to no avail. He was stuck in a cold call, and his mind seemed to be wiped clean except for the thought of how wonderful it would be to melt into the floor.
Out of everyone in the room, why did it have to be him?! Bobby was stammering stupidly and his tongue felt like lead. If only he had done the reading…but even when he did read it, the embarrassment still came. Bobby was forced to pretend that he could in fact string a few cohesive thoughts together and say something of substance. This is where the cold-call leaves us: we are thrust into the midst of embarrassment and self-humiliation, but if we manage to successfully bullshit under pressure, we emerge victorious.
As we all probably know, there will always be those who have the gift of articulation, those who are comfortable with being put on the spot, and those who are fond of the sound of their own voice. We commend the talent of these star speakers and shower them with appreciation as they give us a break from having to vocally participate in class. One can hardly get a word in to keep their participation grades afloat, but hey, at least the professors do something about it! Yes, the professors do try to help by zeroing in on the kid who looks the least prepared and inviting them to share their brilliance with the class. I suppose it is thoughtful if you stop to think about it. Anyways, if you’ve survived a cold call, I’m proud of you. Near death experiences are no joke, but if you are able to laugh about them you might as well laugh loudly.
Featured image courtesy of Malwarebytes
Copy edited by Annamaria DeCamp ’27
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