Some Shit I Wished I'd Said

B-minus Bob: No, I didn’t deduct points because I thought your paper was late. Because your paper wasn’t late. No, I didn’t enter the grade wrong. Fact is you just didn’t deserve anything better. And hey, I can tell you’re bitter, but asking me in front of the whole class about the average grade on the paper won’t help you. I know what you're thinking. Why don’t you just come out and say it? I am an A student and the only possible reasons for my B-minus are either a mistake, or you grade too hard. No, on both counts. And by the way, here’s the class average, B-minus Bob: 75.68. That’s pretty much the most average average imaginable. So I don’t grade too hard. I actually grade too easy by .68%. Fuck off.

Grade-goggling Greta: I know you don’t ever look at my comments on your papers or assignments. I know you just look at the grade page on Blackboard, and ignore everything else. But why do you have to rub my face in it, every fucking time? Stop following me back to my office, asking me why you got a 50. The reason for your grade can be found in my comments. Read them. No, you can’t resend your assignment because you sent it in the wrong file type the first time. And no, I don’t believe you that you read the assigned text carefully. Fuck off.

Sleepy Sal: You have four absences, Sleepy Sal. Thanks for asking. Yes, I know you’ve been in class every day. Sleeping. Sleeping students get marked absent. That’s stated clearly in the syllabus, and all this post-siesta huffing won’t make those absences go away. Yes, I know you think studying the insides of your own eyelids is more interesting than Beowulf. Many people share that opinion. They can fuck off. And so, Sleepy Sal, can you.

Clumsy Cora: That’s quite a tragic story there. Honestly, if it were me, I would not have tried to fix my broken pinky finger with a splint I had bought at Target, especially since the Health Center on campus is staffed with qualified professionals and is also free. Yes, I see your finger and it does look swollen and bruised. No, this is not an excuse for you to turn in a paper half the length required. Django Reinhardt managed to be the greatest jazz guitarist of all time and only eight of his fingers worked. So, fuck off.

Eager Edgar: Jesus Christ. Your assignment was due yesterday, and you’re already emailing me worried that I haven’t graded it yet? Calm the fuck down and put the nitro under your tongue. Take deep breaths. As I said in class, I had five stacks of papers to grade in one weekend. This put me behind on the homework. Weren’t you listening? No? You’re still worried it’s taken a whole fucking day for me to grade your homework? How’s three weeks sound? No? Well, how’s fuck off sound? Because it sounds pretty damned good to me.

Viola Visitor: Yes, I know you’re an honors student, and I know you must be very interested in my honors class in (insert insanely popular pop culture reference here), because you didn’t sign up for it and yet here you are, doubtless invited by one of your cute honors student friends, who apparently has told you this class is a fun free-for-all. It’s not. Showing up of your own free will to a class you don’t have to attend doesn’t mean you can do whatever you like. You are not flattering me with your presence. In fact, though I decided to tolerate it I find it unsettling. And for Christ’s sake stop drawing. And stop giving me the stinkeye because I told you to stop drawing. Your drawing is for crap anyway. Fuck off.

Plagiarizing Paula: OMG, you actually apologized! You’re actually ashamed! I think I love you! Oh, and by the way, you’re probably going to be expelled. Fuck off.