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I could care less, really, Sheila, if you make it to class or not. I'm sorry to say it. I suppose if I were a better professor, I'd care or something. But I don't. I also don't care that you are trying to blame me. Whatever. That's what students like you do.
But, I do care about my doing "right" by you. For some reason I care about that. So my knee jerk reaction to just ignore your e-mail did not sit right with me. I deleted it, and was just going to ignore it. But a crazy little bird, maybe it was a duck, would not just shut the fuck up in my head.
So I sent you an e-mail back, reminding you of the conversation we had just last week about how you wanted to do anything, anything, have sex with me, sell your soul, kill a duck, anything at all, to pass this class. I reminded you of how close a thing it was going to be, and that every little bit counts. I told you I was going to be giving out the last essay assignment in the class you said you would be missing, and answering questions about it, storyboarding it for the class. All the ridiculous things I do to make it very clear what I am looking for in an essay assignment. So I told you I thought, really that you should drag your ass into class so you would not miss all this great stuff. I reminded you that if you miss that class, all you get is a stinking handout that you have to actually READ and then ask me specific questions about. I reminded you of how much you hate that.