I may have mentioned this anecdote before, probably because the logic and convoluted rationale behind such a conclusion still manages to baffle me whenever I think about it. Which I do more and more often these days, surrounded by summer students who think that:
I) they are doing ME a favour by spending their summer within echoing, freshly-painted halls
II) they are entitled to an A because they are spending their precious summer indoors, the martyrs
III) they hold some type of power over Yours Truly because they CHOSE me instead of Professor X who also teaches the same course
IV) Therefore, I should be exceedingly flattered to be gifted with their presence
V) Thus I cannot conceivably give them anything but an A out of pure, unadulterated gratitude.
The scene about to unfold did not, however, take place during the summer, although the labyrinthine assumptions are remarkably similar. It was early into the fall semester, the leaves curling at the edges, the warm, pumpkinesque colours only just beginning to appear. I was a TA back then, a TA who thought hirself part of the campus student body (I wasn't THAT much older than them) and expected hirself to sympathize with their problems. This conversation marked the turning point in that expectation; I realized I couldn't possibly hang with such minds, not only because I didn't agree one whit with their inner workings, but also because I couldn't for the life of me figure them out.
Uncertain but Studious Ursula: So I have Dr. Silverback for upper-level MESTology and we just had our first test. I'm so, like, worried.
Self-assured Sandra: You have Dr. Silverback? You're sooo screwed.
Uncertain Ursula: OMG NOOOOO WTH?
Self-assured Sandra: If he hates you he'll give you an F. He only gives you an A if he likes you.
Uncertain Ursula: OMG, Noter, we have to make him like us now.
OnlySlightlyBallisticNoter [mildly]: Dr. Silverback is so helpful, though. Have you had him before?
Self-assured Sandra: Trust me. I had him last semester and he gave me an F.