To the kid in the back who thinks he's totally rad:Yea, I see you. How could I not, right? Everything about you, from your uncoiffed, blond surfer hair, to the way you lean casually back in your chair with your hands folded behind your head, screams, "Look at me and know that I am too cool to care." And the way you talk over everyone's introductions to joke with your "bros" really shows that you are too cool. And they way you make flirty little comments during your own introduction says, "I think I can manipulate everyone--including the instructor--with my oozing, laid back charm." Dude. First of all, we're in the freaking Midwest. Lose the surfer persona. Second, you're mildly creepy. So why don't you sit up in your chair, shut your mouth, and realize that all the faux-surfer charm in the world won't save you from that D on the first essay. Bitchin'!
To the computer science guy:
Thank you so much for informing me that you believe the way I conducted our composition class on the first day was inane and inefficient. I know. I did have everyone put their desks in a circle so we could see one another. I just wasn't aware that this meant that I was turning class into a "therapy session." I don't recall asking anyone how he feels about his father, but I guess circles could lead to this kind of thing being so ... round and all. You also were kind enough to inform me that "Education is about thinking, not feeling" and you "just want the facts." I really appreciate your generous sharing of your educational philosophies. Lord knows that the computer science guy in my community college first-year writing class probably has a lot to offer on this topic. And the way you just flat-out attacked the class on the first day shows that you are in no way just rashly judging the situation. I actually said that this class was all about thinking, but maybe you missed this because you were so troubled by the thought of having "to listen to everyone else talk." It must be troubling to be in a class with other people. You probably prefer a blank room with a computer, piping in "the facts" over a high-speed connection. If only the world could be this kind of angular, robotic, people-less paradise! We wouldn't need this reading and writing crap at all!
To my new favorite student's mother:
I haven't met your son yet, but I can already tell he's a winner. How? Who but a winner would have his mother email me about missing the first day of class? Not only this, but you managed to email me late, and with so many errors that I had a hard time understanding the message! That's something. And to top it all off, your son is not missing the first day of class because he is incurably ill, mildly sick, or even on an end-of-summer beach extravaganza. You're son is missing class because he is "bear hunting." Out tracking grizzlies somewhere. Can't be bothered right now. I cannot wait to meet the kid who loves slaughtering large, angry animals just as much as he loves his mother. I only hope he can write a bit better.
