The Business of Being Inappropriate and Other Stories from the Trenches

Monday morning, my dear officemate returned practically in tears from teaching her morning class. She said "some jerk-off" stomped up to her desk in the middle of class and said, "Is there even any reason for me to be here?" He then said he needed to meet with her pronto and stalked out. She was shaken and stunned by his obvious rage, so she cut class short and came back to the office to grab a cigarette. In her absence, a young guy that closely resembled a jerk-off--arrogant face under shaggy head, silky basketball shorts, t-shirt, and Nike flip-flops in the middle of the school day--knocked on the door and invited himself into our office to wait for my mate's return.

There are several issues here:

1. College students often act as if they are being forced to come to your class. It is maybe the worst thing about teaching immature individuals who are "technically adults," but who don't yet know how to act. This guy acted as if he needed his instructor's permission to leave, which he does not. He acted as if she could care less whether or not he is there. She does not. Because many of them still live at home where their parents tell them daily how fabulous they are, these students often expect that we'll share the same sentiment. We do not.

2. Jerk-off just got done insulting my office mate, and now he wants to come ask her for a favor.

3. He forced his way into my personal space to "wait for her" without me inviting him inside. Since our office is so tiny, we were in close proximity for an incomfortable amount of minutes, during which I attempted to ignore him, and he breathed through his mouth.

As I'm sitting there "checking email" and trying not to listen in on OM and JO's conversation, he starts telling her how he got kicked out of his old college, came to the U of M, which he hates, and is now trying to get into another local school. If he fails her class, he'll not be able to attend another college, and it will "ruin his life." Dear office mate, to make a long story short, shuts him down. She says he has missed so many days and assignments that there is nothing she can do.

Jerk-off now begins to cry. He speaks pitifully: "Isn't....there....anything....you can do?" (wails dramatically) "I'll do DOUBLE....work...just...DON'T...FAIL ME!"

Anybody remember in the film The Color Purple where Sofia and Squeak fight over Harpo? Chaos erupts, and the man playing the piano at the juke joint slams the lid down and says, "Okay..time to go..." That was pretty much me when jerk-off started crying. I exited with a quickness and never looked back.

In my evening class, I returned my students' papers. One student--a young, African American guy, who wears the baggiest clothes and, sometimes, bandannas on his head--always leans against the wall in a half-dazed state. He rarely speaks, though the twinkle in his eye underscores my observation that he always reeks of pot. In his Tupac-esque facade, and nonchalant leaning, I imagine "Dear Mama" running through his head, as he sometimes taps his foot lightly against the chair of the hoodlum in front of him, who, incidentally, happens to wear a GPS ankle bracelet according to the rules of his probation.

Seriously, do you think I could make this shit up?

When I return papers, the heady, woody smell around Tupac's desk is unmistakable, and rather than get angry, it always makes me laugh out loud. (Hell, they think I'm crazy anyways, so why not go ahead and reinforce their beliefs.) I look at him during my lecture, and he is smiling pleasantly, if detachedly, up towards my desk, and it makes me chuckle. How much easier a time in undergraduate school would I have had had I been high during every lecture... I'm sure Othello is a hell of a good time when your in smokesville, though that desire for Cheeto's probably gets a little hard to contain from time to time.

His stereotypical, disinterested thug appearance doesn't fool me. He is a smart fellow, and I noted as such on his paper, which was one of the better from the whole lot. Still, I couldn't help myself when it came time to give him some feedback on his work. I said, and I quote, "D, I'm impressed by your work. Though you always come to class smelling like a big fat doob, I'm glad you took this assignment seriously. Well done!"

Immediately after receiving these comments, he walked to the front of the room, grinning from ear to ear and gave me a look of unadulterated veneration. No, he did not mean to deny it, but something in his face told me he wouldn't forget this moment for the longest time. We sort of "shook on it" and went about our business of being student and teacher once again.

For the first time ever, he engaged in the conversation in class last night. Seriously, it stunned me. He took charge of his group's discussion about Iago's deception, and he commented on Cassio's equal deception in regards to Bianca, his mistress. I nearly pissed myself. Appropriately or not, I certainly won his respect.