And Now For Something Completely Different

Back to the grind again...

J--I'm sure you were the shit as a cheerleader back in Podunk High, but twirling your hair around your finger and rolling your eyes at the concept of having to read in an English class is not very popular with me. Also, hitching rides with dorm mates back to New Jersey every weekend is not considered a valid excuse to be absent, even if said ride did leave you stranded in NJ and you're not sure when you'll get back. Especially if it happened more than once. Or twice. Or six times. When you asked me the last time if absences affected your grade, I thought you were asking a rhetorical question. When you asked whether the readings were "real" or not, I'm sorry the whole class laughed at you. But you don't make any damned sense. Asking questions like "When I write my paper, does it have to be about the assignment" will only continue to get you quizzical looks from me and giggles from your classmates. My favorite part was when you asked if you repeated this class, would there be less writing and would it be "easier?" It's 101. And, No.

J #2: You're so cute and perky. It's a pity we only see you once every five classes. But what's best about you is the way you think on your feet. Like when I asked you point blank why you didn't turn in your midterm portfolio, and you said you did, you had put it under my office door, which was impossible, see, because there is just enough space under my new office door for a piece of paper or two. You can't get a folder under there. I even experimented after you told me that whopper, just to make sure. Nope, doesn't fit. I gave you a way out (or more rope to hang yourself with) by smiling and saying, "No problem a'tall, just print out what you have again and bring it to me. That was about three weeks ago, and nary a piece of paper yet. My favorite, though, was when you said you had been confused this whole time not only about what was due but when to even come to class, because the syllabus online seems to be different from what we're actually doing in class now. Did I change it? Um, I don't have an online syllabus. Busted again.

To the frat sacrifices: I'm pretty sure we went over the fact that rushing your first semester never goes well. I'm quite positive we talked about how it trashes your grades, and how a good chunk of people fail out of school and making it into the frat then means very little, considering they can no longer participate, you know, not qualifying to come back to college and all. I remember the eyerolling that happened then. And you all looked real cute in your business suits that this frat makes you wear, to demonstrate, you know, how you're a cut above the rest, and all. Three of you have already failed out without any chance of recovering in the next few weeks, and three more of you will fail in spite of the fact that you're holding on by the skin of your teeth. Your ties looked nice, though. I'll have fries with that.

To D: I worry about you. Especially about your ability to comprehend the basic context of where you are and what that might mean for you. I mean, when you show up to a composition class and you don't have a pencil or a piece of paper, it's a bit puzzling. Where did you think you were going today? OK, I can see maybe getting up in a rush, barely making it to class, and having to borrow supplies every now and then. But every class for the past 28-ish classes? Do you go to the grocery store and forget to bring some form of payment? Do you microwave something to eat and forget to bring a plate? Do you take a shower and forget to turn on the water?

To F: I recognized that look you were giving me today. The look that says, "Did she really do that on purpose?" Yes. Yes I did. You see, every time you fall asleep, especially after I warned you in person, "Quit fucking sleeping," I'm going to do something loud and obnoxious to scare the pee out of you. Like knock all your books off your desk accidentally on purpose. Or wang the door into the back of your chair. Oopsie. You'd have seen it coming if your eyes were open.

To B: My god, you're adorable. Sadly, I'm neither gay nor do I date students. But you keep sitting in the front row and looking at me like that. It totally helps your grade.

-- DV