Saturday, December 20, 2014

I'm Not Worried.

End of finals email.:

Dear Professor I_am_not_nice:

I didn't study well for any tests this semester. Don't let my failure bring you down at all.

Failing Freddy

If sitting at the bar with delicious food, bourbon, dark beer, and much rejoicing is an indication of my being brought down, I want to be brought down, well, every damn day.

Really, It's OK.


  1. A certain student came to an ex-colleague's office one day and told him: "I'm failing your course. What are *you* doing about it?" That student was given short shrift and was forced to make a quick u-turn out the door.

    If someone has done their job properly and taught the course material like it should be presented, why is a student's performance suddenly their responsibility as well?

  2. Yeah, it always puzzles me when Eager Eddie and Dramatic Dana come up right after a test to tell me how they think they did. Do they think it's their assessment that matters? (Yes; at least they hope so.) Do they think of me as a Best Bud? (If so, they'll soon learn otherwise. )

    Then, after I've handed back the dismal results, the same students approach the bench (as it were) with explanations about the precise nature of their misunderstanding of the questions. If only I were Dr. Amanda, I'd say, "Oh, Sweetie, it's so adorable that you think I care."

  3. Well, my heart does grieve a bit with each failure. I go through Kubler-Ross' 5 Stages, but I try to get to acceptance as quickly as I can, because the righteous path must be followed. The grades get recorded, the academic review boards meet, and the chronically underperforming are smote.


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