Do We Have a Respect Problem?

It’s 2:30 p.m. and Galvin auditorium — a large lecture hall in Sullivan Center — is nearing the end of its most recent class. Five minutes until class lets out, and its doors will soon see hordes of students surging through, milling about to their respective next endeavors.

It’s 2:31 p.m. Now, not much longer until “SLAM” — one of the folding side desks snaps shut, shocking the class from their focus. 

Heads turn. A few grumbles can be heard. A backpack is zipped closed. Two more desks crash, and the professor begins to speak louder, hoping the volume of their voice can return the wayward students back to the material for at least four more minutes.

It’s no use. No matter what class, it seems like Galvin Auditorium — and by effect, most lecture-based classes — have a respect problem. 

Students are too focused on getting out, hurrying off to their next class or going to lunch to realize they’re stealing the last bits of precious information in their lectures from everyone else.

What’s it about Galvin, though? What aspect of the high-ceilinged room causes students to forget proper classroom etiquette? What facet of this room makes it seem like some teachers are respected over others? 

Do we, as a Loyola community, have a respect problem?

Galvin Auditorium is home to roughly 330 side folding theater-style desks. The wood is heavy, occasionally ringed with condensation from the odd energy drink and is used by countless students throughout the day to balance laptops, notebooks and binders. 

When closed though, the leaden surface makes an audible snapping noise which seems to ricochet off the tall ceilings and resonate across the room. 

This is an issue. 

It seems in classes, when one desk slams shut, so do five others, and eventually the whole class is packing up early and missing important information. Often, the last five or so minutes of class provide a useful summary of the topics learned or details about an upcoming exam or quiz.

Professors tend to try to squeeze multitudes of valuable knowledge into that 300-second time period, addressing things which may not be reviewed in the next lecture. By packing up early, beginning to talk with their friends and even leaving ahead of time to escape the crush of students in the hallway, important information may be missed entirely.

This isn’t just about missing information though — this is about the professors. Each and every professor who lectures in Galvin — or any lecture hall, for that matter — has put time and energy into their lesson. Whether it be bystander training or literature, the information being given is highly important in the eyes of the professor.

Packing up early and leaving in class is the academic equivalent of walking away halfway through a conversation with a friend because it wasn’t interesting enough. In both situations, the speaker is most likely hurt if the listener didn’t think what was being said was interesting enough, and will probably be a little mad for a while.

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Though most lecturers seem to bear the brunt of the packing up early phenomenon, students have begun to notice it seems like female lecturers are more frequently interrupted than male ones. At a school nearly 70% female, this is concerning.

Whether it be bias towards male teachers or simply coincidence, teachers — female or not — shouldn’t have to worry about the last five minutes of class becoming a cacophony of desks clattering and laptops shutting.

Galvin Auditorium seems to bring out the worst in us as students, heavily evidenced by our noise issues. 

To make our education more worthwhile as students, we should be paying attention to the full 50 minutes of lecture material, rather than leaving in the last five. 

It’s 2:35 p.m. now, and the class is over. In a perfect world, conversations would begin to break out, desks sounding off like fireworks, students taking their leave. 

For a little while, Galvin Auditorium will be blessedly silent, leaving the room to reflect on the classroom etiquette of the students once there.