Hey, fellas. Yeah, you three, in the back of the room. I'm glad you're eighteen and that your hormones are oh-so-willing to usher you into the bed of whatever young lady is feeling sorry for you this week. I'm also glad that in the days of reality television and its ubiquitous "confessional" moments, you feel comfortable revealing who you really are on the inside to everyone else in the class, regardless of how stupid/spoiled/immature you sound. Really, these things make me happy.
However, in the interest of revealing exactly how I feel about the three of you little pukes after today's class, let me say the following: Please keep the porn out of the room. Though I love you very much, I don't love having to inform you that looking at glossy porn magazines in class in no way constitutes a productive use of time. And forgive me if I say no to you when you ask to go to the bathroom right after pawing said magazine.
