Hey yourself, fucktard.

Hey there, student in my freshman comp class. I appreciate you writing to me about your situation, which is, upon perusal of your transcript, that you are a senior trying to pass freshman comp for the seventh fucking time. You didn’t want to tell me how many times you’ve taken it before, but I can check on such things.

It was quite a chatty letter you sent, and I should tell you first off that I’m a little taken aback by your words of praise. You write that you admire me because you are a single mom. I find this odd because I am not a single mom, and we’ve never even met. I had my kid when I was married and nearly forty years old. Thus I’m assuming this professed admiration is a pathetic attempt at sucking up based on the fact that we both have vaginas. Unfortunately for you, however, I don’t subscribe to your particular brand of the vajayjay sisterhood, which mandates that all professors with vaginas must give students with vaginas passing grades, especially if they’ve both pushed babies through them. In fact, specifically to avoid membership in this sisterhood I flunk students with vaginas all the time. I’ve been flunking students with vaginas since the Reagan administration, and Lord knows I don’t intend to stop now.

And good for you that you donated your used books to students who could not afford them. I don’t understand, however, why you are pointing this out, unless you are trying to secure a better grade by advertising what a generous person you think you are. Sadly, I don’t account for student altruism when I assign final grades. You could be the Dalai Lama himself. If you don’t earn a passing grade, you won’t pass. So long, Your Holiness! Better luck next time!

What really concerns me, however, is your statement that your previous professors failed you “knowing that (you) I would become a great writer in the future.” I don’t know what bothers me more, your belief that students should be given grades based on their imagined potential, your belief that you are going to become a great writer, or your belief that merely professing your impending greatness is going to have any persuasive effect on me whatsoever. Who on earth believes in their own innate capacity for greatness after such a spectacular series of failures? You’ve taken freshman comp at three schools. Three. And been flunked by six different teachers. At this point, believing in your own mediocrity would be a stretch.

You say you failed freshman comp twice at our local shitstain of a community college, despite the “great work that (you) felt like (you) performed.” The teachers there don’t even assign essays. Just in-class exercises and busywork. They only get paid $1500 a pop so I don’t blame them, but the idea that you could fail there twice, let alone think that you failed in spite of your own excellence, makes me want to hide under my desk until you are dead, or at least until I’ve gotten proof that you have received the electroshock therapy you so desperately require.

Lastly, I’m glad you’re “willing once again to perform at (your) best.” Good for you. But maybe you should think seriously at this point about performing at someone else’s best. Perhaps a circus monkey, or a member of the Tea Party.

Anyone, anyone but yourself.