You must learn, young Padawan, but finals are now officially over


Fair warning:  there is “language” ahead. . . .

Mamacita says: I gave finals to five classes last week. Most of my students last semester were awesome; I adore them. I already miss them.  They rocked.  All semester, they worked hard, had wonderful discussions, participated, helped each other, LISTENED, made suggestions. . . . the combination of personalities was great, and almost everyone added in a positive way to the mix.  THOSE students finished their tests in silence, handed them to me, THANKED ME FOR BEING THEIR TEACHER!!!!! gathered their stuff, and left, quietly. I heard them talking in the halls a little later, about how much easier the test was, than they’d thought it might be.  That is how it usually is, for the students who take it seriously and show up each week.

How about that one slacker class, you might ask. . . Here’s how it went:

Most of even “that” class were great.  They took their test, wished me and each other a Merry Christmas, and left.  Most of them passed, and most of those who passed passed well.  However, that one truly slackerish guy – the one who didn’t remember to take the midterm exam or turn in any of his projects – arrived almost an hour into the session and was still there long after everyone else had gone home.

Slacker: This test is fucked. I don’t know this shit.

Evil Teacher*: The students with good attendance know it.

Slacker: Are you talking to me?

Evil Teacher: Apparently not.

Slacker: Do we HAVE to use a #2 pencil? I hate that. Do we HAVE to?

Evil Teacher: Yes.

Slacker: This sucks. I don’t have one. Give me yours.

Evil Teacher: Here, take it. Use it well, young Padawan.

Slacker: Huh? Whatever. I hate black pencils. Got any other colors?

Evil Teacher: No. Black is the color of despair. It is fitting.

Slacker: Whut? Huh? I hate this pencil. Buy some good ones next time.

Evil Teacher: I promise. . . . . . shakes head ever-so-slightly in wonder. . . . . .

(30 minutes later)

Slacker: I done mine in ink. Is that okay?

ET: No. Here’s another form; you have to use a #2 pencil.

Slacker: That sucks!!!!

ET: Yes. Yes, it does.

Slacker: Huh?

ET: You’re right. It definitely sucks. Do it anyway.

Slacker: Can I go to the can? I really gotta pee.

ET: Sure. You go to the can. And please wash your mouth out with soap before you return.

Slacker: Huh?

ET: I said, please remember to wash your hands before you return.

Slacker: Whutever. When you gots to pee, you gots to pee.

ET: You have thirty minutes remaining, you consummate dumbass Slacker.

Slacker: Do we got to do the ones on the back of the paper?

ET: Why, no. No, you don’t HAVE to do the ones on the back. In fact, you don’t HAVE to do ANY of them. It’s all about CHOICE. You are a FREE AGENT. You only HAVE to do the ones you WANT to do.

Slacker: Do whut? Huh?

ET: You don’t HAVE to wear your underpants rightside-out either, but most people do.

Slacker: Huh? So we don’t got to do the ones on the back?

ET: Yes. Yes, you do. You HAVE to do them.

Slacker: How’s come?

ET: Because I said so.

Slacker. Oh. Whutever.

(turns test in with only one side completed, and most of them wrong.)

Slacker: I gots a 9-month-old girl baby. She learning to talk.

ET: Dear Lord.


So. How was YOUR day?

*Evil Teacher?  That would be me.

P.S. Students lingering out in the hallway, hoping to hear a “show” and getting one, came back to the classroom to hug me and tell me they’d been sorry all semester that everyone had had to put up with Slacker; they congratulated me for not losing my temper, and then confessed that having Slacker in the room was like having dinner and a show along with the lessons.  Now that it’s all over, I have to agree.  I guess my question is, what kind of future does this guy have?  I already know the answer; he’ll be leeching off all of US for the rest of his life.  Sigh.  Most of me resents that mightily and only a teensy part of me feels sorry for him.  Life is full of choices.  He chose to be a slacker.


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