What your lecture hall seat choice says about you

We humans have been learning in classrooms since at least 3000 BCE, when Sumerians established schools called É-dubba. Still, despite all those generations of intellect, I believe you fundamentally cannot shake the primal instinct of seat choice. Now, where and how you sit says a lot about yourself – and human nature.

A1: The Killer Keen Beans and/or Ironically Studious Shrimps

Killer Keen Beans, you arrive at least 10 minutes early and turn around to shoot scathing glares whenever someone talks during the lecture. You leave only once you’ve accosted the lecturer to ask a ridiculously unrelated question to prove your existence. In your defense, you have been asked to come at the end – after your 3rd question during the lecture. You genuinely take handwritten notes.

Studious Shrimps, you will enthusiastically admit at the end of the lecture (after rushing back to your friend group) that you only sit at the front because eye contact with the lecturer is the only thing that prevents you from dozing off. You spend the lecture looking over the Beans’ shoulders, wondering what on earth they have open on ResearchGate and noticing the crick in your neck from looking up at the board. However, your technique works surprisingly well, and you pick up on a lot amongst the Beans and the screen’s glare.

A2: Overachievers in Disguise

You act like you don’t care, but you’re still far too engaged. In defiance to the “neek” label, you whisper comments to friends but still somehow absorb everything. You secretly judge the lecturer’s slide design whilst you’re probably a future lecturer yourself. You say you’re only here because you “couldn’t find a seat elsewhere” (lies) and you side-eye the front row for asking too many questions, but you secretly appreciate the extra explanations. Freshers go rabid for your Notion notes.

B1: Just a Chill Guy

The Swiss, the Goldilocks, you respect the front row seaters for their dedications and the back row gremlins for their joie de vivre, but you don’t identify as either. You genuinely want to learn, but for fear of being bitten by a Bean or making eye contact with the lecturer when they ask a question, you choose the middle ground.  You have someone’s notes open but they’re rarely yours and you watch the lecture like a live documentary, knowing you’ll have to rewatch it later. You’re in at least 2 societies and you go to Ministry every other night. Your sweet treat and coffee define your day.

B2: Flight Risks

You’re born escape artists. You always have to be somewhere, so you slip away like thieves in the night. I often wonder where you go once you scan the attendance QR code and the lecture starts – is it to Ethos, home, to the bathroom because all this exciting learning just gives you that rumbly in your tummy? Your bag never fully leaves your shoulder, and if you’ve even brought it, you’re a master of the silent laptop close move. If the QR code takes time to appear, you can be seen eyeing the exit like a trapped animal. If you do stay for the whole lecture, it’s because you fell asleep before you could leave. You don’t see the point in lectures, you think you can learn everything faster through a 2x recording.

B3: Gremlins

In the words of Frida Kahlo, you didn’t choose to be born this way, but you were and you’re happy about it. You thrive in the lawless back rows, napping, openly snacking and gossiping, screen split between the lecture slides and something entirely unrelated. If you do, you write nonsensical notes at 200wpm, which you find yourself deciphering during exam season. You can be heard muttering, “What’s going on?” – both to yourself and to a fellow gremlin all the way from A2 – only sometimes regarding the actual lecture content. Your presence in a lecture is never guaranteed. Sometimes you’re there, and sometimes you’re a name on the group chat asking if you missed anything important, or a story on Instagram posting a landscape in a different country.  

C1: Pity Party

You were late. You were so very late. You have no excuse to sit there unless you were horribly late. You were also so very obstinate not to miss the lecture, so you hung your head and dragged your feet to C1. You think the lecturer will remember this, but fear not – in truth they are thinking of science far beyond our meagre comprehension. That, and their next meal. Everyone will observe you once they lose focus. You are the people watchers’ prey.

C2: Lone Wolves

You don’t trust people. You like to extend your legs over the neighbouring seats and leave your bags there so you can have the entire row to yourself with your back against the wall. No one knows what’s on your screen facing the wall. You arrive just on time, calculated so it is not too early to make small talk, not too late to cause a scene. Your headphones are in, but no music is playing, this is purely a deterrent tactic. If forced into a group, you either do everything or nothing. People recognize you, but no one truly knows you. Ongoing theories are that you’re Batman, or the reptilians let out of Congress early.

And finally, after all these bold claims, you may wonder what seat I’m in? Well, if I ever reach my New Year Goal of attending lectures, I’ll be sure to let you know.