Ah, Stevie Snowflake.
There are days when I wake up and want to throttle you.
You come to class, sometimes, and you raise your hand. A lot. And nothing you say has ANYTHING to do with what we are discussing.
"Hamster fur is important for development in the world," you say, looking around for approval. Everyone stars at you, wondering where the hell that came from when we were talking about underwater basket weaving. Later in the class: "I think that we should remember the presence of God when we talk about this." Another student covers for you by trying to tie "god" to our unholy subject. Thank you, Golden Student, but maybe next time we should just stare Stevie down until he cracks.
Stevie, I'd have to say you've failed all of the homework so far, a stunning feat. But it isn't for lack of trying; you keep submitting something, anything, on topic, off topic. There is nothing about the reading in your work. Three of them have begun "I guess...." because you clearly are in your own spacey world. Your topic sentence often pays attention to the prompt of the assignment, but then you move on to completely and totally unrelated crap. I ask for 200 words; you give me 25. I ask for 5 pages, you give me a laundry list of information about the book's publication.
You have plagiarized twice. Shouldn't that be grounds for failing you and sending you to the higher-ups? But no: what you have plagiarized is such nonsense that the higher-ups don't know what to do about it.
For a 5-page essay, you submitted a copy of the school rules for campus conduct. (not the plagiarism code, the "treat each other with respect, no yelling, no alcohol, no drugs" code)
For a proposal on a research paper, you copied and pasted part of an editorial about the new school buildings from our poorly-written school newspaper. (atrociously-written, really)
And I try to corner you when you do come to class, but you arrive late and slip out before I am done with the lesson. I email you; you do not answer. Your student adviser calls your cell phone and leaves repeated, unanswered voicemails.
Stevie, it was funny at first. Then it became bold, even audacious. Nailing you for obvious plagiarism was entertaining. But this is getting beyond funny. It's getting ridiculous. And your squirmy ass is beginning to piss me off.
Next class, I am going to hold up class time to talk to you in the hall while everyone else waits. It has come to this. I am now a 4th grade teacher holding your hand so I can tell you that you are a complete and total blasted idiot and that you need to drop the course and start over, or come clean about the crazy amazing drugs you are doing.
If it's the drugs, do you have enough for the whole class?