We had our best 'American Idol' yet, but a "suspicious" mishap has them calling a do-over which was the most disturbing AI incident since Frenchie posed nude. I got to watch the show from a classroom at the Alma Matter of Mr. Clay Aiken: UNCC.

Remember back in college, there would be a few eager beavers in there 30s or 40s that would get to class like 20 minutes early? They would get there that early so they could sit right up front and compare notes with each other. They would talk to the professor about problems they were having every single day just for exposure time. They would talk just to hear themselves speak. They would eventually become close friends with the professor cementing an “A” status.

I remember them. I remember them well actually. I would roll in 15 minutes late with my hat pulled down over my eyes. I’d have Natural Light breath fighting through dense cotton mouth. All I wanted to do was stay out of the way but their constant contributions would ruin a perfectly good hangover. Worst of all, they would mysteriously “test out” of the final exam.

Well, folks, if you can believe it, I sit here on the dire edge of 30 and as much as it pains me to say it...I’ve become one of them.

This semester Professor Jay Grymes created “Examining ‘American Idol’ Through Musical Critique” at the University of North Carolina Charlotte. Professor Grymes says,”The show can be a springboard for serious discussion about the art of performing music and the craft of critiquing it.” The idea is impressive, the execution is near perfect.

When most people hear the idea, they think it sounds like a cool class. When I hear it, I’m thinking I’m there. I rolled in like Billy Madison jamming to REO Speedwagon in his Camaro.

I’m actually a little worse than the folks that I described above since I’m not even getting a grade; I’m just there for fun-zies. And no, I didn’t sit right up front. I’m way too proud for that. I used to be cool for God’s sake. I’m just not now. I said hello to the Professor and sat in the very back and prayed that he didn’t ask me to stand up and say a little something about myself.

Remember those welcome mats teachers would lay out on the first day of class? Stand up and say a little something about yourself. That was pure temptation to make an absolute fool of yourself. Your whole class image would be defined by that one moment. And it gave the hot chicks an opportunity to gage if they would ever hook up with you if they saw you out. The pressure was mind-blowing.

At college orientation, some over zealous RA posed this query delving into our souls, “Tell me something you’re really proud of? Really dig deep people. Brian you go first.” I had an immediate brainstorm and went with it without proper screening. With a dead straight face and while feigning all the pride I could muster, I coined this gem, “Hi, my name is Brian Moran and I can scratch every spot on my back!” It’s hard to put into words exactly how bad that bombed. In fact, I’m a little surprised I’m able to acknowledge it in print. As I re-read it, I don’t know how I ever could’ve dreamed that would be funny in the first place. Let’s just forget it ever happened and move on.

He didn’t ask for a two sentence memoir on my life but he did give me a little intro, “Brian, here, is a visitor from WCNC.com and he’s doing a story on us so he might be snapping some pictures.”

Now that what’s he said. No big deal right? But what I heard and what I bet some of the students heard was, “Brian, here, is a TREMENDOUS dork. He’s pushing 30 yet he decided to spend a lunch break to sit in on our class voluntarily. His entire pitiable life revolves solely around reality television. For him to be anymore pathetic, he would need a mullet, a nervous tic, 462 career home runs and a best seller about injecting enhancements into his buddies butts.”

Everyone turned to get a look and the faces said, “Is he supposed to be somebody? I don’t recognize him at all?” It was painful but at least it was short.

Right off the bat, the thing that impressed me the most about the class was that it was absolutely packed. The attendance was unlike anything I had ever seen in college. Everybody was there and on time.

After introducing me, he got the class intrigued by saying he got a call from “Access Hollywood” and another call from “Inside Edition”. Woah! I feel better and worse at the same time. I feel better because I’m not the only media type curious enough about this session to sit in but I feel worse because compared to Access Hollywood, I’m just some schmuck with a column.

Early on, it was easy to recognize that the professor was pretty cool, cooler than any professor I ever had. He had a dry sense of subtle humor. I think he purchased the entire Drew Carey personae on Ebay. He had the look, his sense of humor and especially his voice. It was uncanny. You see, folks, this is the kind of thing that would go unmentioned on Inside Edition. (I’m dead serious, as I write this, he is on FOX news right now making fun of the anchor's pants. I’m not making this up.)

The class starts by dissecting Nadia’s performance. Professor Grymes said she changed the song and added a quicker tempo in the middle. He said it’s very difficult for a performer to switch gears like that. His insight into the show is far better than mine considering my musical ability extends to a few chords from ‘Jump’. Maybe he should be writing my columns. I could just add the lame jokes.

Next up we talk about Carey Underwood’s performance. Grymes felt she picked a perfect range to break out of her rut. “Not too low. Well within her range. They cut one chorus short and started another. She did that rather seamlessly.” My thoughts were not quite as well thought out, “She looks really hot tonight.”

He thought the performances were the best yet because the 937 #1 hits provided “a fertile ground” for the performers which was valid. Although, he felt there were only 190 of them in musical history. The class was quick to correct him which brings me to more props.

If the attendance is striking, the participation is remarkable. Every time a performance ended, hands went up. The points were genuine and articulate. It wasn’t the nothingness I used to spout to try to salvage some participation points. Quite honestly, it was easy to see how. Grymes has the ability to take comments from the students and effortlessly churn them into an argument with discernible sides. They had simple debates about whether Anwar was overly cocky or just confident and whether Scott’s dedication to his father was sincere or strategic. They also tackled the more complex issues of potentially gay performers being hamstrung by the judges that call them Broadway or cabaret.

One student noticed immediately that Anwar didn’t rephrase the lyrics to “she” from “he” in his song. I never, ever would have picked that up. I’m thinking I could copy these kids’ notes, personalize them and be in bed by midnight with a wrapped column.

I almost felt that there was so much participation just because I was there with a keyboard. At one point, I kid you not; he literally had to say to the class, “Alright, this is going to be our last comment on this topic, we really need to move on.”

Things get better, much better. Grymes brought a poll up on the screen. The question was “Which contestant took the greatest risk?” The student next to me pulled out a remote control and for a second I thought she was in control of the projector? Totally clueless, I looked around and saw they all had them. It was their mechanism for voting in the polls and their stamp that they attended class. I immediately get jealous and whine in my head, “Man, I want to vote.” (Carrie took the biggest risk when the poll results were tabulated.)

Later he pulled the results of their weekly voting which had Carrie, Jessica and Vonzell as the top three. Mikalah, who is clearly in over her head, took dead last. Another question hit the screen, “What contestant succeeded most with their song choice?”

Carrie takes it again. That’s the coolest freaking thing I’ve ever seen. If it’s been out for years and they do that in every class, forgive me. But I’m blown away.

While corresponding with Grymes about writing the column, I couldn’t believe how comfortable he was about me sitting in. He didn’t seem concerned about who I was or why I was writing it.

I could have been some anti-establishment nut who hated American Idol and the commercial lifestyle if forced on youngsters. I could have been some bitter Cincinnati alum and bashed the class as a gimmick for retribution for the upsets in the 90s. I could have been some religious fanatic who thought reality television was the devils handy work and anything associated with it was promoting Landon’s knife obsession or Trishelle’s pregnancy tests. Or I could have been some self involved 30-year-old who spouted on about his own shortcomings and insecurities for over a page. (Whoops, scratch that last one.)

The point is I could have said anything.

But he didn’t seem concerned about potential negativity at all. And I think the reason is because he knew there was nothing negative to say. He knew that not many classes in the world can boast the attendance and the participation record he featured. He knew that the vibe of the class could be the template for what all other classes should strive for.

And you know something, he was right.

I hope those kids have a good appreciation of what they’ve fallen into. A hundred people in the world will be able to say they were in the first American Idol class ever.

Tomorrow, they’ll wake up and they’ll be 30. And they’ll realize they didn’t appreciate some things at 20 that I neglected to value at 20 as well.

One of the things they need to be grateful for is Professor Grymes' class. It seemed far and away above anything I ever experienced in my five years plus a summer of college.

I hope it doesn’t take 10 years for them to realize that.