Pickup Line 19

Last day of classes. Pervy Pear-eater was on a tear.

“I don’t care what you do when you leave this class, when you leave this school. Become a bean-counter, become one of those useless start-up kings in California, live a cowardly life that’s all about money, money, money.

“But I had hoped that for the time you were in my class, you’d learn a little bit about living courageously, telling truths that made you uncomfortable, even if they were thing you could never forgive about yourself, even if they made you look at yourself in the mirror with something close to contempt.”

He shook the stack of papers in his hand.

“But you have proven me wrong.”

Drama Queen, she thought.

“This is the least honest, least creative, most cowardly waste of ink I’ve ever seen. I know you’re living more than this out there. I know there’s more regret, more heartache, more STORY out there, even last week here on Campus, than is making its way to these pages!”

He slammed the stack of papers on his desk.

“SO.” he sneered. “Rather than enjoying a very nice bottle of Pinot Noir this weekend, I made comprehensive notes for each of you. You have until the end of finals to think through revisions. Some of you are lucky. I spared you from having to make revisions. This is, of course, because you need to completely start from scratch.

Oh God, she thought. I thought I was done with this shit.

“I am,” he said with that ridiculous pomp and self-importance, “available by appointment. Because we’re beginning reading days, I won’t be holding any regular office hours.”

He passed the papers back. Past assignments, he’d made some marks in the margin and added a long explanation and evaluation on the back of the final page. She had actually been impressed that he spent so much time on each paper, and as much as she hated to admit it, he knew a thing or two about writing. But this time, there were no notes, no punctuation suggestions, and no three paragraph ending. Instead, it only read, “Boring. Make an appointment with me.”

Her cheeks felt hot. She had actual classwork, actual tests. Now she had to re-write her paper! Not. Cool.


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