October 15, 2001

Imperfect Perceptions

Some may think that I am strange when I say this, but watching people has always been one of my favorite past-times. I remember when my mom used to make long shopping trips to Raley's and my feet would get tired. I would go sit in a folding chair near the door and watch the people who entered and left the grocery store. I enjoyed scrutinizing their actions and expressions in order to get a glimpse of their personality. Because of the people-watching skills I have gained, I would like to say that I usually have fairly accurate first impressions of people. However, there will always be exceptions.

It was my first day as a transfer student to Sacramento State. I had been at school since 9 in the morning and it was now almost 4:30 in the afternoon as I entered my Government 1 class. Promptly at 4:30, my government teacher walked into the classroom. "Government 1, Section 10, right?" she asked. There were murmurs and nods of affirmation throughout the classroom.

"Good," said the teacher. "OK, I'd like to start out by talking to you about political science. Within political science there are five main categories and I'll just go over them briefly. The first one is International Relations, which basically answers questions about war and peace. The second one is Methodology."

"Whoa!" I thought to myself. "We're already taking notes?!"

The lecture went on until 5 p.m., when the teacher paused to pass out her one-page syllabus. She briefly went over it, emphasizing the importance of attending class every day and keeping up with our readings. "The book by Woll contains actual articles written by many of our founding forefathers. It's a little difficult to read, but yes, you will read the whole book."

Then she said, "I'm going to take a short break now, at which time anybody who is scared of this class may choose to leave. It's fine with me if you want to leave early. I'm going to my office, so I won't even know you're gone."

The next moment, all 30 of us students were sitting alone in dumbfounded silence. Our teacher had stressed the importance of attendance, but then had challenged us to leave. This teacher was something new. She returned shortly and said, "Well, it looks like most people are still here. That's good." She lectured a little longer, passed around a role sheet, and then said, "OK, we'll pick up where we left off on Wednesday."

And that was it. Class was over. I was astonished. This woman was definitely unique. Although she was nice-looking, she hadn't smiled at all. She didn't look unpleasant, but her attitude toward the class was one of superiority and indifference. I concluded that she would rather be doing something else besides teaching Government 1. As for me, I would be relieved if I could just pass the class.

However, my thoughts about this teacher changed drastically over the next several weeks. On the second day of class, she finally introduced herself. She used highway patrolmen as one of her examples, and referred to them as "our little friends on the road." (Having received two speeding tickets of my own, highway patrolmen would not be on my list of good friends.) So she did have a sense of humor, after all.

Over the next couple of weeks, my teacher began to learn our names and even tease us. One day, she had three volunteers read a part of the script from "Monty Python and the Holy Grail." When my friend Adam read the girl's part in a high-pitched voice, she burst out laughing.

I learned - and am still learning - my lesson. The old "Don't judge a book by its cover" rule applies to government teachers as well. From my first perceptions, I had decided that my government teacher did not believe in having fun. She was a serious woman who did not play games. I was mistaken.

Although I had only seen my teacher once, I had formed solid conclusions about her. Based on one class period, I had constructed a complete picture of her. As imperfect humans, we attempt to make structures out of nothing. When given two sides of a triangle, I assumed I knew where the third line should go. However, that third line might belong in the opposite place from where I thought it should be. Similarly, given a glimpse of this teacher's personality, I automatically formed solid conclusions about her that were later proven wrong.

One thing that made it hard for me to realize that my teacher really was not mean and humorless was the stability of my perceptions. When my teacher walked in the door and began lecturing without even introducing herself, I concluded that she was cold, hard and unfriendly. My negative view of her was strengthened when she dared us to walk out of her classroom. After an hour and a half, I had formed some solid ideas about this woman and who she was.

I was not the only student to dislike this teacher. Walking out of class, several classmates and I compared our overall first impressions of our teacher and the class. "I don't know about this class," said one student. "That teacher scared me."

"I bet she gives really hard tests, " I said. "At this point, I just hope I pass the class."

By talking together, my classmates and I unintentionally solidified our first impressions of this teacher. Knowing that I was not the only one who saw her as mean and cold made me feel that I hadn't erred in my judgment of her. If everyone else in my class was a bit scared of her, then it was OK if I was, too.

However, it is interesting to note that as my views of my teacher began changing, so did my classmates' views. Apparently, we all needed to improve our perception skills a little. Perhaps society as a whole is too critical and unaccepting of others. We tend to judge each other on outward appearance, rather than waiting to get to know the individual. It's like an art project gone horribly wrong: We feel such a need to complete our picture of someone that we sometimes draw the wrong picture.