My teacher cancelled our Tuesday class and then followed up with an email the next Monday to let us know that there would be a quiz on 3 chapters we never covered. So I was a little stressed - 5 notebook pages worth of stressed. Here it is typed out since no one can read my chicken scratch writing:
Yes, let’s divert the situation with humor. We should have read the book for Quiz 1 without any clarity as to what will be on it — perfect. Plus a late arrival — impressive. Oh my god what kind of class is this? I feel like a goddamn prisoner. What a psycho. He has the eyes of a sociopath — or an animal. Sometimes I wish there was a better test for teachers so that the ones who simply regurgitate the text and facts can get canned before they even start and the ones who inspire can go on to actually help people who want to learn in a not monotonous tone.Even the humor attempted is flat and stale like someone else said it first and he’s just repeating it like a parrot. Wow a laser pointer? Is that supposed to help me pay attention? The way you sigh makes me lose faith in not only humanity but life itself. I wonder what he looks like when he’s laughing like a real person — or if he’s even a real person. I bet he’s the kind of creature that was criticized so much as a child that he feels the need to take it out on the rest of the world now as an adult. I bet his mom is high maintenance. “Molested” — he says it so casually.
How can you expect to talk so flatly and in the dark and expect to shed light and vibrant inspiration in regard to history? How does he have good ratings? How does this class not have someone whose more excited about what they’re teaching, teaching it? I wonder why he was late and sweaty and red to class. I bet he’s the bitch in his marriage. I bet his kids are robots. I bet he’s overly sensitive about absolutely everything. I bet he was bullied in early adulthood. I bet he met his wife in a very embarrassing haphazard way. I bet he lies when he tells people the story. I bet he hates half if not most of the class — if not everyone of his classes — if not his whole existence. I bet he watches animals fuck in his free time. I bet he has a power complex — and a small penis. I bet he thinks about dying his hair on a daily basis but never does it because that’s just how indecisive he is. “It started it’s life as a colossal failure - failure - failure” He sure does like that word. I bet he uses his teaching career to feed his killer needs — it’s a menu. I wonder if he knows how boring he sounds.
I hope he can’t read my mind. But actually I kind of do — then he’ll know I’m pissed and he should change.
[see picture] “Sir, just so that you are aware, your late notification/reminder of our quiz and its potential content, as well as your late arrival and lakc of notification of class’s dismissal — regardless of expected upkeep of our book and your excuse of not being present for class — offends me greatly. And as someone who has registered and is taking time out of my day and life to be educated I expect to be treated with — at the very least — a little more respect. I hope that in the future this is the case — especially if you expect me to show you the same”
[see picture] Hopefully someone will relieve my suffering in this class. I can’t learn through your bun and cut-off jean vest.
Every time I check the time only 3 minutes will have gone by when IN FACT it’s felt like 900,000,000,000… I wonder if this class is just as painful for everyone else here. I can almost feel chains on my limbs and my mind. I wonder if his friends are boring. I wonder how badly he’s dying inside.
I bet he’s just like that guy in American Beauty. Sad, lonely, losing, BETA, and yearning for a 16 year old girl — or boy, I don’t judge. Hell is pretty immensely instilled in our society — the fear of it anyway. I checked again and it’s been 6 minutes this time. I wonder if this is what it feels like to be in everyone else’s life. People were such amazing artists back in the day because society allowed the time for it — now all it allows is poverty and gluttony. No passion. I feel like I’m on a long flight to nowhere watching a shitty movie and having to be quiet because it’s late and everyone has to sleep. This is my nightmare. Everyone’s staring at the screen but all I hear coming out of it is sad violin music. Why do they look so intrigued? I’m crumbling mentally in my seat. I can’t wait to stand up again. This darkness is stifling. I wonder why his voice cracks so often. I wonder how long I can keep dead eye contact with him before he asks me to stop. Oh dear sweet humble Jesus one more hour left. How have I lasted this long? I wonder how many other people are pretending to write notes. I wonder how many are actually writing notes because they think I am. I can’t believe I paid $5 for a tiny coffee and a cookie. He is actually talking about dead things. I love his forced French accent.
Are people seriously retarded? Why would you ONLY take note of what is already written in the presentation. FUCK. How many times is his voice going to crack? People frustrate me. This class frustrates me. Being obscure in the world frustrates me. Power struggles frustrate me. I wonder how long I’ll be able to keep this up — hopefully for another 4 months. I think that’s 16 classes… 48 hours… I actually just drank from the wrong side of the coffee cup. That’s how MIND NUMBING this shit is. That’s how useful it is. That’s how fucking ENTHRALLING it is. Holy mother of God pray for this man who somehow continues to have more and more to say and never seems to run out of breath despite being “sick”. How is that even fucking possible? “Fully-formed male body — *crack*” Wow, you like? Humanism — a system of thought where humanity is in the center — how fucking arrogant — shows that man can be creative and is not simply just a vessel for God. Only 5 people are writing things. I wonder if that means they are only vessels — If I recall correctly, that has something to do with the devil/illuminati. It is BARELY 5PM NOW. I bet the people in those paintings would hate this class. I can’t tell if I”m having a heart attack or a panic attack. And I can’t tell if it’s because my body is unhealthy, my mind is unhealthy OR
my mind has decided to check out and I’m now literally dying from boredom. This is horrible. It’s like staring into a vortex. It’s like listening to people cry at funerals. It’s like people-watching at Walmart. It’s like Leonardo DiCaprio dreaming of his Oscar. Is he deaf too? “Speak up? What? I’m sorry?” Or maybe he’s just not used to LISTENING. Or social situations in general. Please stop yawning, it affirms my urge to stab the corneas of my eyes to stay awake. I wonder how many other people have committed suicide immediately after this class — or during. I wonder what his Match.com profile would look like…[see picture]
My leg is falling asleep and I actually feel dizzy. “My French is quite bad” then why do you insist on adding an accent?!? Holy Jesus. I would really rather read, outline, re-type, handwrite, typewrite, summarize, recite and present the entire textbook than sit her and listen to this sad man talk any more. Where is the passion!?
[see picture] When’s the last time you heard someone THAT passionate ABOUT ANYTHING? He kind of looks like the Grinch. Jesus, can’t you just say, “I don’t know” ? Is it that hard??? My, God.