Yes, you've got a nice ass, and you're used to showing it to one and all. But could you please wear something a little more modest. I mean, this is a church school, and you're not a working girl. (I don't think.)
- Oh God, tell us one more time about going to Firenzo or Forencia or wherever the hell it was you went in Italy last year. I mean we haven't heard about every minute of the trip, though it seems like it.
- Okay, you're closer to my age than you are to the other freshmen, but we're not buds. Quit slugging me on the shoulder you nutjob, and walking me to my car after class does not make us colleagues or friends. You're creeping me out!
- You're cute-but-neurotic and it's driving me crazy. I can't tell if your desire to wipe down your desk before you get to work is honest germophobia, or a ploy for the attention of the entire class (which you get). And I don't care. You're smart enough to do the work; can you please just get to it?
- Oh I know you're busy. Sheesh, you've got a full plate. But that doesn't change the fact that the rest of us have 16 weeks to slog through. Your constant explanations are tiring me out. If your cousin in Ohio simply can't get married without you, then so be it. But we're going to go on without you, okay?
- You think because you're a foot taller than me that you can do whatever you want, and I'll admit the administration so far is being a too soft on you for my tastes. But if you want to play teacher-vs-student, I happen to know who will win, and the one of us who's been in trouble with the law before is going to be the loser.
- Nobody has this much trouble finishing an essay. Quit telling me you're blocked. What you really are is lazy. How many times do I have to say, "Write an introduction"? It's not a very intoxicating thought, and I know it's not a very exciting activity. But your essay needs it, and I'm sick of waiting for you to do it.
- You're right: I absolutely am "treating you like you're in sixth grade." There's a reason for that. Actually, were I to try to put an age on your behavior, I would be forced to admit you act worse than my TWO YEAR OLD. Grow up.
- I would pay you money to shut up. Don't you get that there are 45 people in this class? Don't you see that all of us - even I - have glazed over eyeballs the minute you begin your newest insane side note? I've asked you politely after class to give your classmates a chance, but all you said was: "I paid my money; I'm getting my money's worth." Try this. Try listening. It's not all about you, and a classroom dynamic might help you if you'd quit stomping on it.
