"F*ckette"

After _Sex and the City_, episode 50 from season 6,
"The Real Me,"
dropped the "F" bomb about 8 times
in my class today,
the woman in the back huffed and puffed,
gathered her books and notes,
then slammed out of class.

Surrounding students bathed in the drama of that moment.

Secretly bored with the academic apathy of this group,
I suspect that the same woman,
who has missed 70% or more of class,
simply wanted a reason to leave this one too.
We had 40 minutes left and 3 handouts to go through.
What better excuse?

Meanwhile Writing Center drama builds . . .

I'd just rather be removed. I liked the annonimity
of being an adjunct: walk into class, lay my thang down,
and leave. No strings.

Here? Ideally, for the next couple years, I will watch
students either thrive or fail.
It's the failing part that's making me whince.

I just hope no one brings a gun to campus.