The Mycologist shifts in his newly acquired seat a few times, testing the squeakiness of the chair. The level is t unacceptable, however, and thus he moves one to the left. Better.

He hasn't brought a bag. But he has brought his lab coat of many pockets and suspicious stains. From its singed depths the Mycologist produces some writing utensils and a brand new notebook.
He has also brought his own goggles, forgotten on the top of his head. It doesn't take a detective to figure out someone was in the lab and had completely forgotten that they were supposed to attend a class. However, it would take someone bothering to ask around to find out who had reminded the Soft-Eyed Mycologist that he had somewhere to be.
No point in dwelling on that. After all, he came on time. Unlike the lecturer, apparently.
He takes a few moments to bring out his pens (3), a mechanical pencil (1), and after some considerations a steel slide ruler and a drawing compass. Not that he thinks he is going to use the last two, but they've been digging into his thigh for a while.

He uncaps one of the pens with a flourish and resolutely opens his notebook on the first page and in a decisive and almost unreadable writing declares this to be Lecture 01. He moves the nib tot eh corner of the page and- And nothing.
The Mycologist clicks his tongue in disappointment with his own self. But he doesn't cap the pen yet.