Thursday, October 18, 2007

Dispatches from the Field: FMF is Not Impressed With You

I am struck by a near weekly urge (usually when listening to my adorable and patently geeky Civ Pro professor talk) to teach. There are a number of problems with this- the need for impeccable grades nears the top of the list, although my distaste for 'people' and 'being patient' come in a close second and third.

Just when I am struck by these urges, Funny Mean Friend comes dashing in with a saving vignette about teaching, thereby reminding me that it would be far more lucrative, and maybe even less infuriating, to sell my soul and kiss academia goodbye.

My soul is very small and withered anyway. Pound for pound, I'd be getting a great deal.

Sometimes, I am motivated to write. Other times, I am motivated to let Funny Mean Friend do the talking, which is really more efficient anyway. Another plus side: FMF is not law school, which poisons my thoughts and prevents me from getting anything interesting accomplished, ever.

No, thats not true. Sometimes I drink, and cook.

Anyway. FMF's take on the teaching experience today:


Dear Nobody,
I am dying and my students are retarded. Weep. weep. weeeeep.....

Seriously, I woke up this morning with one of those colds that you suspect might turn into pnuemonia, but until it does so, you are obligated to go about your life and pretend that you aren't a giant, walking putrefaction.

Any questions about how I feel?

Also, because I am saintly and the best teacher ever, I commented on the student rough drafts that I got on Tuesday and am handing them back today. All of them will fail. I would consider it some sort of failure on my part instead of theirs if they weren't so stupid, and if they didn't feel obligated to argue with me. Example:

"First of all, your grammar is so problematic, that I can't understand what you are trying to say. Second of all, once I do decipher what's going on, I find you haven't answered the prompt at all."

"Yes I have. See, here this is what I was trying to say." (Blah, blah, blah).

"Okay, I don't care what you were trying to say, you didn't say it, so you won't get credit." "Also, the assignment was to analyze a photograph."

"But I want to write about Tommy Hilfiger."

"I don't need to write about a photograph--if Tommy is that near and dear to your heart, then you can just go write a different essay for fun." "Fix the grammar and stay on topic or else you will fail this paper."

"You can't fail me for grammar, a teacher told me so once."

"Think of it this way, your grammer would make it a D, Tommy makes it an F. Better?"

Hate seethe hate.

Upside, hot prof thinks I'm great still and stops by my office to chat. New hire at WorkHell is a 6'2 Ph.D student and he's hotter than....really really hot things. Two bites of man candy!

Except, I'm going to marry this one. Just as soon as green slime stops coming out of my nose.

-- FMF



All rights reserved to my snotty and generally self-deprecating writing. And if your comments bother me, I'll delete them. That's right, pumpkin.
...How dreary—to be—Somebody!
How public—like a Frog—
To tell one's name—the livelong June—
To an admiring Bog!
-- Emily Dickinson