Dwindling
My teacher accused me of plagiarizing on my last paper this afternoon, solely on the basis of the opening paragraph not being entirely related to the rest of the paper. Sue me for turning in a shitty paper that was "all over the place" and basically NEVER given a second reading or edited. But do NOT accuse me of cheating when there is no proof and no basis for such accusations other than personal biases. She then proceeded to tell me I don't participate, I disrespect her and my classmates because I "talk to my neighbors" (which has happened all of two times...that she's noticed at least), and because I appear to have not ever done the required reading, which is my obligation and responsibility. Oh...and I still have to re-write the paper, even though she said "I trust you," and allegedly believes I actually wrote the damn thing. Now, on top of a take-home test over EVERY SINGLE PHILOSOPHER AND AUTHOR WE'VE STUDIED THIS SEMESTER and a paper due this Friday over 2 books I have as of yet neglected to read, I have to correct a paper I haven't thought about in 3 weeks. As if I don't have other tests, papers, and final projects to be worrying about? As if I don't have other fucking classes besides Freshman fucking Seminar?!
I sort of wanted to bust out my drawings of her, the very unkind and uncomplimentary ones I do while she drones on in wrongly-accented verbalizations over subjects to which no one can quite figure out our current book's relation. She really does look like the teacher from the Magic School Bus, Mrs. Frizzle. Except evil and no fun.
Clearly it is my fault that I have no respect nor do I work hard for a class taught by an incompetent Czech-bitch teacher who cannot speak English that is coherent and does not prepare and subsequently does not know what she is talking about, ever.
That looks racist, now that I read back over it. But I'm not. I'm just very frustrated.
After explaining it was, in fact, my original work and that I would correct it, yes, over break and just take the fucking INCOMPLETE until she could grade it after Christmas and turn my grade in late, I ended up on the brink of tears and finally was able to walk out telling her I would be ready to present over the Edward Said article on Thursday. I now have to be very well prepared and kick ass to show her yes I am capable of participating in discussion and yes I do my homework. Also, I didn't leave before I admitted straight out that this class was the last of my priorities. Fuck it and fuck her. Then, because I was unable to stand up for myself and be mature while I was talking to her I ended up breaking into hysterics and screams on the phone with my mom as I walked back to my room, i.e. "So I get in trouble for asking Belinda if she had a FUCKING TAMPON! OBVIOUSLY THIS ISN'T ALLOWED! ...Oh God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to say that. I'm sorry." Anyway I lost all self-control and accidentally said 'fuck' on the phone to my mom.
People I talked to later told me I totally should have taken offense and called her on her bullshit accusations. Yoly and Lee told me they definitely would've cussed her out. My dad also, told me at least I didn't react with "Eat shit!" (Which of course, is how he reacted to a similar situation with a teacher who later failed him...go figure. Where do I get my temper again?)
Everyone thinks I should tell my adviser tomorrow. I don't know what I'm going to do, other than present a fucking fantastic understanding of Edward Said and Jane Austen and Imperialism in Mansfield Park on Thursday, and of course, re-write this fucking paper for her after I get home unless I miraculously find some spare time next week.
After that I came home to take a nap. Then my day was salvaged by reminiscing over yearbooks and school websites of practically everyone in the dorm. We sort of had a let-me-tell-you-everything-you-never-wanted-to-know-about-me-in-highschool night. Also, we all sort of pointed out the many people we hated and got to re-live past bitch sessions of highschool. I was surprised to learn most kids hated most of their grade. It wasn't just me! Kidding. I only hated...like 5 people. Okay, mostly 2 in general and it isn't too difficult to think of them. Yeah. My favorite part of the night was picking people at random that looked bitchy, saying their names out loud as guesses as to who Christen hated, only to be right. Every girl I named, sure enough, she fucking despised. It was amazing.
And um, also, Yoly and Lee had whole dill pickles upstairs so that was cool, too.
I sort of wanted to bust out my drawings of her, the very unkind and uncomplimentary ones I do while she drones on in wrongly-accented verbalizations over subjects to which no one can quite figure out our current book's relation. She really does look like the teacher from the Magic School Bus, Mrs. Frizzle. Except evil and no fun.
Clearly it is my fault that I have no respect nor do I work hard for a class taught by an incompetent Czech-bitch teacher who cannot speak English that is coherent and does not prepare and subsequently does not know what she is talking about, ever.
That looks racist, now that I read back over it. But I'm not. I'm just very frustrated.
After explaining it was, in fact, my original work and that I would correct it, yes, over break and just take the fucking INCOMPLETE until she could grade it after Christmas and turn my grade in late, I ended up on the brink of tears and finally was able to walk out telling her I would be ready to present over the Edward Said article on Thursday. I now have to be very well prepared and kick ass to show her yes I am capable of participating in discussion and yes I do my homework. Also, I didn't leave before I admitted straight out that this class was the last of my priorities. Fuck it and fuck her. Then, because I was unable to stand up for myself and be mature while I was talking to her I ended up breaking into hysterics and screams on the phone with my mom as I walked back to my room, i.e. "So I get in trouble for asking Belinda if she had a FUCKING TAMPON! OBVIOUSLY THIS ISN'T ALLOWED! ...Oh God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to say that. I'm sorry." Anyway I lost all self-control and accidentally said 'fuck' on the phone to my mom.
People I talked to later told me I totally should have taken offense and called her on her bullshit accusations. Yoly and Lee told me they definitely would've cussed her out. My dad also, told me at least I didn't react with "Eat shit!" (Which of course, is how he reacted to a similar situation with a teacher who later failed him...go figure. Where do I get my temper again?)
Everyone thinks I should tell my adviser tomorrow. I don't know what I'm going to do, other than present a fucking fantastic understanding of Edward Said and Jane Austen and Imperialism in Mansfield Park on Thursday, and of course, re-write this fucking paper for her after I get home unless I miraculously find some spare time next week.
After that I came home to take a nap. Then my day was salvaged by reminiscing over yearbooks and school websites of practically everyone in the dorm. We sort of had a let-me-tell-you-everything-you-never-wanted-to-know-about-me-in-highschool night. Also, we all sort of pointed out the many people we hated and got to re-live past bitch sessions of highschool. I was surprised to learn most kids hated most of their grade. It wasn't just me! Kidding. I only hated...like 5 people. Okay, mostly 2 in general and it isn't too difficult to think of them. Yeah. My favorite part of the night was picking people at random that looked bitchy, saying their names out loud as guesses as to who Christen hated, only to be right. Every girl I named, sure enough, she fucking despised. It was amazing.
And um, also, Yoly and Lee had whole dill pickles upstairs so that was cool, too.