Grumpiness

‘Cause students can be tough sometimes

Dear Professor F. I can forgive, but I am not a saint, you see. I woke up early this morning just to see you, just ’cause you insisted on talking to each one of your students personally. I don’t know why, truly. You didn’t actually care.

You insisted on seeing our handwriting, you insisted on reading a handwritten presentation of each one of us. We know it was just because you are curious and want to analyze our personalities, if not use for your research. Well, if you want to use it for a research, I hope you know you need our consent, which I do think you know (see and enjoy how high a concept I have of you). As a consequence, I’m back to the “want to analyze” option, because when it comes to analyzing you have some ideas that, I’ve got to tell you, are not conventional nor accurate at all.

If I write something like “he wants to get back”, it doesn’t necessarily mean that ‘getting back’ is something important for the individual I am writing about, even because it was me who wrote that, and not him. Let me clarify I didn’t take notes of every word he said and I am not very good at telepathy. Likewise, if a patient says it was “five or six years ago”, it doesn’t mean I have to obsess about it and pick on him because he’s not good at math.

But I don’t think you’ll take any of this into account: what you like is the pleasure of lecturing for yourself, reading for yourself, taking conclusions for yourself. It was in one of these selfish cups that you forced us to stay at your classes until the last minute, threatening you’d use any absences against us; it was in such selfish cups that you called each one of us separately for a ten-minute chat, that you made me take two buses this morning just to sit in front of you and your enormous ego and listen to useless considerations.

How come you said I was a wonderful student? How come you said I was always there, interested and involved? I surely liked it, but – c’mon – don’t you know that wasn’t true? You’re fooling yourself.

Besides all that feedback, I would like to tell you that not having answered any e-mails and even so having insisted on pretending you were a dedicated teacher who loved your students was not very smart of you. If you receive so many e-mails so that you can’t afford to answer them, there is a polite way of telling us that, instead of complaining about stupid students who don’t know you’re too important to confirm the receipt of every message (and probably too lazy to learn there’s an automated solution for that… but forget it, you’re not able to create a Power Point presentation and you’re doing okay on Word already). Congratulations. After all, I was glad to meet you this morning: it meant I’m free of your unbearable classes.