Tuesday, October 2, 2007

A New Correspondent Shares Some of the Normal Disgust Concerning Her "Special," Most Favoritest Student.

Okay, dude. I totally get it. You don't give a fuck about my class. Not. A. Fuck.

It was hard to decipher. At first I thought you might have some kind of medical condition. But I think I've finally managed to decode all of the eyerolls, the guffaws, the "that's obvious" comments, the chronic tardiness. You're telling me you don't care. But it's more than that, isn't it?

It's not just that you don't care. It's that you don't care because you're so damned special. I have to say, you are certainly joining an elite group of students who have not cared about my class in the past. Two of them quit college altogether (I know because their advisors emailed me). Several more have failed. And, yes, even more have passed and gone on to lead normal lives where they get jobs without an even passable understanding of written communication or analytical thought. Who knows what "special" group you'll fall into?

But here's the thing. Could you either A) just give it up now, or B) keep your specialness to yourself for a while? It's not so much for me. I can take whatever you can throw at me. But you see that girl next to you, the one taking notes and listening while I talk? Or the guy next to her who always has his book and a comment on the reading? See, they're clearly not quite as special as you. They are ignorant enough to still think they can get something out of this class. Crazy, I know.

But do you mind if we humor them for now? Because when you verbally blow off the questions that they are trying hard to answer or laugh at their comments, well, you kind of seem more like an asshole than the special, special person we both know you are.