Kenna Room 304: Hell on Earth
Photo Source: Bergin Russell
Picture walking down a long, narrow hallway. The lights flicker with a fluorescent glow as the building creaks and moans with every step you take. You didn't even know that Kenna Hall had a third floor, the building was already cramped enough. Nevertheless, you keep walking, past offices, classrooms, and other students until you finally reach your destination, Kenna room 304: Hell on Earth.
We all have our favorite and least favorite classrooms on campus. While some students have majors and schedules that keep them in the same buildings every quarter, many of us have bounced around. Over the past two years, I’ve had a class in almost every building on campus, and I can confidently say that there is no classroom I despise more than Kenna Hall room 304.
The room has two doors, so you use the one closest to you, but it refuses to open. After 10 seconds of jiggling the handle, you give up, and walk to the other entrance. Just as you are opening that door, you catch someone out of the corner of your eye opening the supposedly locked door and walking in. So, the door does open, just not for you.
Walking into the classroom you are greeted by an elephant graveyard of old, mismatched red chairs. There are piles of unused chairs lining the windows, and clustering by the doors. The one you chose squeaks and squawks, screaming its age and lack of maintenance like a promise to disrupt class and make everyone look at you.
The professor walks into the room to start class. No matter the subject, a class in Kenna 304 means your teacher will spend at least 10 minutes of every class wrestling with the glitching projector, restarting the decrepit computer, or complaining about the overall setup of the podium, guaranteed. You can tell they are just as frustrated as you are.
“I think that administrators who don't teach have forgotten how important material conditions, including a good classroom, really are,” states Professor and room 304 survivor Nancy Unger, “ As you know, it can be very hard to learn in a room that is too hot and/or overcrowded, and it is the bane of my existence when the in-room computer malfunctions. Decent learning conditions, it seems to me, are the bare minimum of what should be guaranteed to SCU students and faculty.”
As you look around the classroom you take comfort in the fact that you only have to be in this dark, hot, old classroom for an hour. You only have to look at the scuffed beige paint three times a week. You only have to interact with the ghosts that surely haunt the room for one quarter.
Maybe I wouldn’t complain as much if I was not paying more than $60,000 a year to attend this university. Maybe if I had one class in Kenna room 304 I would forget about it and let it go. But no, this year alone I have been sentenced to Kenna room 304 three times. And hey, there’s always next year.