9/15/11
Dear Professor Hammerhead,
I'm learning that there's a point when you have to tell the world to fuck off, tell everybody good day and flip them a good one. Though, I'm pretty sure I'm just trigger happy with my sign language.
I went to the college advisement office today and asked, "Do you have any programs for people who want to stab out their eyes with a plastic fork when they think about coming to class?" Only, I said the nicer version of those words, which sounds something like, "Do you have any alternative learning courses for people who find the traditional classroom environment isn't meeting their needs?" What can I say? I'm a pansy who needs to hide behind formality.
The counselor suggested the honors program, which adds a whopping single project to one designated honors class, a total of maybe ten hours additional work. I nearly slammed my head on the desk.
I understand life requires a certain amount of hoop-jumping, trick-doing and ass-kissing. But I've become convinced that if there is a hell, it probably is my English 102 class. I've seen my favorite subject shredded there more thoroughly than some spirits, Deadman included, could manage. I can't even blame my fellow students for the butchering-- they're too lifeless. Newts who crawl into the classroom and nod vaguely for an hour before being dismissed. Hammerhead, I've looked for fire everywhere here, for people who are doing the good work, whatever the work may be. I'm not finding them.
Instead I sit and watch uninspired teachers pass out meticulously color-coded hand-outs and turn in papers I know for a fact aren't being read. I'm considering semesters, abroad, at sea, online with a motorcycle. I don't care if I join the army, or hightail it to the land of milk and honey. As soon as my financial aid comes in, I'm finding a way out of this traditional set up. If you know any voodoo priests or shamans looking for an apprentice, let me know.
I blame you for this wild impulse. I hope the rivers are articulate enough to make you forget bureaucracy and that the fish posses more fight than my current peer group.
Your hard-headed student,
Sonya
P.S. Since writing this nearly a week ago, I've learned of your great loss. I can only imagine the caliber of person who could help make you what you are. I am so very sorry. Your family remains in my prayers.
Best love and wishes.
I used to have to teach such a class. You could not pay me to do it again. So much hoop-jumping built into the course requirements to deter students from plagiarizing, and to make expectations clear. So clear, in fact, that every task and subject gets ironed down to a two-dimensional shadow of its former self. Some teachers transcend and inspire such boundaries, but they're swimming against the higher ed tides. We need education revolution at all levels, not just K-12. Le sigh.
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