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Apr 20, 2005

I do so love it when teachers tell me to learn to read.

She's one of those delightful people who draw inferences. Not about science or politics or anything mysterious; just about other people. She draws inferences, and then frames them and hangs them on her wall and insists that no one touch them. She likes things that stay where she put them. She makes art out of inference: her own brand of portraiture.

You should see her inference-portrait of me. No adjective in the English language would dare touch it. "Accurate" and "inaccurate" just wring their hands and try to look inconspicuous. She paints me in bold, confident strokes. "Habitual nonreader" is one. "Welcome to take an incomplete" is another. The inference splatters across my shirt and sprays the wall behind me. I struggle to get my breath back.

"Your prosectus is the model I had in mind with the phrase smoke and mirrors.You've spent more time and effort dodging the readings and trying to finesse your assignments using sheer intelligence (admittedly considerable) than you have done by just doing th eassignments . . ."

Admittedly considerable? Is she trying to trick me into thinking this is a compliment?

So the Semester from Hell, which should be winding down to a close, manages instead to work itself up into a climactic orgy of misery. Have I been reading? Yes. I recently fell a few days behind and am trying to catch up by shoving other, more essential work for other classes aside. Have I been failing reading quizzes in the meantime? Yes. Did I get one of the highest grades in the class - if not THE highest grade - on the midterm which drew exclusively from the reading? Yes, in fact, I did, because I didn't skim over the damn readings the way she forces everyone else to.

Am I going to take an incomplete? Quite likely. In this context it isn't even as bad as it sounds. She has about a 75% withdrawal rate in this class, by admittedly rough figuring. That's drawing from a group of students qualified for Junior-level Comparative Lit classes, including only one unequivocal slacker and several hardcore nerds. I would quite frankly welcome the closure of even a failing grade. I'd be pissed, but I'd move on. An "I", if it means relief from her art, would be a blessing. I will inquire about the details of this arrangement. And in the meantime, I will go home and stare at a dead channel, refusing to read.
Nick ::: 4:26 PM ::: 0 comments

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