(no subject)
Sitting in my insufferable English class. Last class, when I asked if presentations would be assigned, he said "next class", and I asked who would present at the beginning of said "next class". He said "How about you?"
I read, I wrote, I prepared an ORGANIZED speech.
I arrived in class and was told that I wouldn't be presenting. Then I tried to get my presentation in when he opened up the floor, but starting from the middle, without my opening, most of what I'd written didn't make sense by itself. I ended up just stopping and saying that I didn't have anything else after two VERY fast sentences. I looked like an idiot, but the entire speech would've worked. I read it over afterward and it still made sense.
Now he's babbling about Walt Whitman's life (since 6 people out of 24 read the text, and they all admitted to not having read it), and I'm writing in my livejournal as he stares at the floor and talks. What a fucking idiot.
I'm so not participating in his class anymore. I'll just listen to the people that didn't read and understand, and watch him try to tell them that they're right.
When my mother worked at COlor Me Mine where people paint their own pottery, she would repaint people's work in the back so that they would think they were better than they were. It's an age old story.
There's nothing quite as painful as watching someone who MAY understand the text trying to lead a class full of people that don't care.
I love my new laptop.
I read, I wrote, I prepared an ORGANIZED speech.
I arrived in class and was told that I wouldn't be presenting. Then I tried to get my presentation in when he opened up the floor, but starting from the middle, without my opening, most of what I'd written didn't make sense by itself. I ended up just stopping and saying that I didn't have anything else after two VERY fast sentences. I looked like an idiot, but the entire speech would've worked. I read it over afterward and it still made sense.
Now he's babbling about Walt Whitman's life (since 6 people out of 24 read the text, and they all admitted to not having read it), and I'm writing in my livejournal as he stares at the floor and talks. What a fucking idiot.
I'm so not participating in his class anymore. I'll just listen to the people that didn't read and understand, and watch him try to tell them that they're right.
When my mother worked at COlor Me Mine where people paint their own pottery, she would repaint people's work in the back so that they would think they were better than they were. It's an age old story.
There's nothing quite as painful as watching someone who MAY understand the text trying to lead a class full of people that don't care.
I love my new laptop.