An English professor from a college in Ohio writes:
My dream is to face down baseball playing D, and tell him that I won't shed a tear for him when he blows his hose. He's never prepared for class, and he mostly shows up so he can run his mouth into the sweet ear of that sorority candy who sits next to him.
I'm expected to meet him at his own whim when he can't make my class or my office hours. I get faux-frantic calls from the Coach who thinks D might go the "show" someday, and wouldn't it be great for the college when he does.
I'd just like him to write his own paper once. Or at least crack the spine of that $40 textbook.
I'd like to smack his smug face.