Wednesday, October 20, 2010


To Hysterical Henrietta:

First of all, I am not “Mrs.” Stella from Sparksburg. If I were Mrs. anything it would be Mrs. My Husband’s Last Name, and as his last name is just as wacky as mine is, I kept my own. Secondly, referring to your essay due this morning on blackboard, you ask “did u receive it.” Yes I did, right when you sent it at “9;30 a,m.” this morning. But no, you “don’t have no grade yet” for the essay you submitted oh, twelve hours ago. Because I actually have a job and work all day. And in addition to teaching all day today, I taught until nine tonight, and frankly I haven’t gotten around to grading your shitty essay as of this moment.

In part this is because I actually have real shit to deal with. My dog has diarrhea and a fever and I’ve been kept hopping squirting pink antibiotic into her mouth as she squirms and pees on my feet. If that weren’t bad enough, the vet has determined that he needs a sample of her watery stools. I must say I would rather scrape that sample off a shag carpet right now than read your essay.

But if you want a grade now, I’ll give it to you. 38. That’s the same grade you got on your first test. It’s an H+, to be precise. Lower than an F, higher than a J. There. I’ve invented an entirely new grade to chart your ineptitude. I hope you’re happy. Dumbass.

To The Three Stooges:

Um, did you think I wouldn’t fucking notice that the three of you left class entirely when I went back to my office? I was only gone for about three minutes. I had to go and retrieve examples of your homework from blackboard, because you neglected to bring those examples to class today as I requested. I absented myself briefly to do your work for you, and you three disappear. Poof. Presto. Three of you gone.

You should know that I didn’t have to take attendance twice. Your comrades ratted you out immediately, as soon as I looked around, puzzled, and asked, “Who left while I was gone?” Then there was a nice group bonding moment as they, with no small satisfaction, watched me enter the absences into my grade sheet. You know, they didn’t like staying in class any more than you three bozos, but stay they did. And, with pleasure, they watched as I held you accountable for your laziness. It is a shameful joy but it’s a comp class, and their pleasures are small.

To the Dumbest Stooge:

You already had hit the maximum absences for this class before you slipped out today. So, dear, I wrote you to tell you that you will be failing the course by default. You protested, insisting you were sick, but it doesn’t matter. Firstly, I don’t believe you, Curly. Secondly, I don’t fucking care. You fail. I’m doing you a favor as you didn’t even turn in your first paper, and have not completed most of your homework. You can't pass anyway. You’d be putting good time over bad, time I advise you to spend on your other classes.

That seminar in keeping your thumb up your ass sure is paying off. Why not invest more energy in that?


  1. Why is it that I'm expected to learn their names, but they can't keep the proper form of address for me straight? Grrrrrrrr.

  2. Let me guess, Curly then said:


    Sorry, I couldn't resist. ;-)

  3. Stella, I had a student last semester who sat back in the corner, held her hand in the air, snapped her fingers, and repeatedly said, "Miss? Miss?" to get my attention. All of this was about 12 weeks into the term.

    I told her, "That didn't work on me when I waited tables. Why do you think it'll work on me here, Suzy Rude?"

    Substitute her real name for "Suzy Rude" here, because -- of course -- I knew her name.

    I hate being called "Mrs.," too, but I think many of my students do so out of their warped sense of respect. I always correct them.


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