Smacking It All Over Da Place

Norton Noshow:  Thank you for letting me know that you stopped coming to class because you were failing, but I think you have the arrow pointing the wrong way in that particular chemical reaction: see, you're failing because you don't show up, so you don't know a damned thing I've been lecturing about (Surprise!  Lecture material supplements but doesn't repeat the textbook!) and so you didn't do well on the midterm.  Your failure on the midterm didn't work backwards in time to delete you from classes.  If only the universe worked that way.

Klueless Kora:  The assignment listed five different things you needed to cover.  It was quite clear, and your first submission didn't do any of them.  I said, "read the assignment and resubmit this," out of some misguided attempt at mercy.  The next submission corrected a couple typos and changed the header, but otherwise did nothing in the assignment.  I pointed out what needed to be changed to actually fulfill the assignment and then -- nominate me for the new Mother Theresa! -- asked you to resubmit.  You corrected a few typos and changed the header again.  I quit. You fail.

Deadhead Dave:  Your eyes are black pits of soullessness.  I've never seen anyone project mental dullness so acutely.  I'd just think that was your thinking face, because I'm always looking on the bright side of life (read: drunk), but I've read your quizzes, and "I forgot to read" does not bespeak a hidden intellectual curiosity.  It's also a lie.  A lie you tell every.  Single.  Class.  You didn't "forget" -- you just don't care.  The sad thing is, somewhere there's an engaged, intelligent, and best of all, ensouled student who could sit in your seat.  But your football playing ass has stolen it from him.

Slowwalking Susie:  I don't actually have you in a class, but if you don't put away your goddamned phone and walk down the goddamned stairs like a goddamned human being, I am going to kick your leg out from under you and then pour my coffee on your head as you fall.  And then I'll say, "Oops, I didn't see you there in the middle of the stairwell texting as you took up the width of the steps.  Did you break something?  No?"  And then I will stomp on your ankle.  And I'm a goddamned Buddhist!  Imagine if I weren't a pacifist, you self-absorbed cyborg freak.