Eckroate: Cathedral classrooms are pretty, but they’re also pretty impractical

Tour groups — both prospective students and the general public alike — whisper with…Tour groups — both prospective students and the general public alike — whisper with excitement as they peer around the doors. Friends from other schools are jealous.

I groan with utter disgust when I realize I’m going to be subjected to these rooms for another semester.

The Cathedral of Learning, as the token building that Pitt students frequently Instagram, boasts 29 impressive nationality rooms, 27 of which function as classrooms. Displaying architecture and design from various countries, each of the rooms is unique: some are ornately decorated, while others feel more like a typical classroom.

Cool, right? I hate them.

I don’t hate them for what they are. As someone who loves learning about other cultures, they certainly are fascinating. I just hate when one of my classes is assigned to meet in these torture chambers.

These rooms are too distracting. With the fancy decor, how am I supposed to focus on what my professor is saying when I’m too busy trying to decipher the proverbs written on the wall? Those stained glass windows are beautiful. That portrait is interesting, I wonder who that guy is? Are those real African tribal pieces?

Wait a minute. Realist theory differs from liberal institutionalism … how, again? How many slides of this PowerPoint have I missed?

Most of the time, you’re lucky to even see a PowerPoint if your class takes place in a nationality room. Professors often have to request the services of Pitt’s Center for Instructional Development and Distance Education in order to receive the technology needed to conduct a class. Someone has to physically come to the classroom to set up a screen and a projector in order for students to benefit from basic technology, as these rooms are ill-equipped. Then, someone must return at the end of the session to dismantle the jury-rigged setup.

Confirmed by CIDDE’s website, none of the nationality rooms that function as classrooms have any media capabilities.

No sound system or audio, no video or projectors. You won’t even find a PC connection.

These rooms are unbelievably uncomfortable. As many are not climate controlled, students spend the first month or so sweating uncontrollably while trying to pay attention. There is no reprieve from our non-air conditioned apartments or the Quad residence halls. The temperature is just too high.

Furthermore, the seats themselves are about as pleasant as walking across asphalt in your bare feet during the month of August. The chairs have absolutely no give to them. They are rigid, made entirely of wood.

Students sit up perfectly straight for the duration of class: slouching or sitting even moderately comfortably for those of us with long legs is physically impossible. Would it kill you to at least put some form of a cushion on the chair?

So it would seem, considering that only two of the rooms feature an amenity this simple. Thank you, French and Israel Heritage rooms.

My biggest peeve here might only apply to 10 percent of the population, but I am part of that percentage. These classrooms are absolutely not, by any means, left-handed friendly. As if we don’t suffer enough in a world made for right dominance, there are virtually no left-handed desks in the nationality rooms.

Every other classroom has a few lefty desks. They’re always pushed to the side, but they are there for us outcasts.

As a result, I have found myself sitting practically perpendicular to the back of the chair in order to get my arm near the notebook that is teetering off the already minuscule table portion of the desk. Other times, my notebook is in my lap, cushioned by my knees. This is not functional.

On my self-guided tour of the nationality rooms, I made a point of counting the seats. Excluding rooms such as the Chinese and Austrian rooms, where students would sit around a table, there are 560 individual seats. Of this number, a mere 13 are left-handed.

That number amounts to barely 2 percent of the available seats. If the population of left-handed individuals is indeed 10 percent of the total, we are certainly at a disadvantage here.

I know they’re unique. I know they’re somewhat of a tourist attraction in Pittsburgh. But this will never undermine the fact that the Cathedral of Learning’s nationality rooms are the absolute worst place on campus to learn.

For room-relocation services or to grieve over lefty problems, email Claire at ceckroate@gmail.com.