The gradebook is the new slambook
A lot of students have dropped my classes. I'm beginning to feel the ticklings of self-doubt, which may or may not be easily read upon my face during class. There are a few kids who refuse to do anything and will eventually drop or be dropped. A fellow MFA graduate e-mailed my school account to ask if everything was going okay; he noticed the dwindling roster.
What's wrong with me? I found a perfectly good deodorant not containing harmful aluminum, so I know it isn't the pits driving the squirrels away.
Thick skin, thick skin, thick skin. I need a bowl of Fruit Loops and The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas. And thicker skin. Skin with layers of calloused thickness to protect me from things like deadlines for submitting roster updates, empty desks, and in-class evaluations.
As Burt says, "At least it's better than being a whore."
What's wrong with me? I found a perfectly good deodorant not containing harmful aluminum, so I know it isn't the pits driving the squirrels away.
Thick skin, thick skin, thick skin. I need a bowl of Fruit Loops and The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas. And thicker skin. Skin with layers of calloused thickness to protect me from things like deadlines for submitting roster updates, empty desks, and in-class evaluations.
As Burt says, "At least it's better than being a whore."
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