When I was teaching (a brief, but painful year and few months), I was constantly impressed with how incapable my students were of ever getting anything done on time. I remember saying to myself: "I was NEVER this bad. NEVER. These children are helpless goobers destined for such heights as McDonald's Management Grooming Program."
Well, I would like to retract that deluded memory. I think I was and still am a shameless procrastinator.
This next Monday I have finals for my once a week, four and half hour, four credit hour graduate school course: American Masterpieces. I've known all semester that the last night of classes would be brutal. My professor specifically said, "The last night of class will be brutal. Prepare yourself. There's a test, a presentation, and a paper due that day. This shouldn't be a surprise."
Apparently when all of that was being said, I was just staring out into space. I mean, I must have absorbed some of it, because I remember the conversation. But I think another porition of my brain thought, "He's bluffing. And he has a very nicely shaped head for an old bald guy." Followed by, "I'm hungry. I should have brought more to eat than pretzels for tonight's class. I guess I'll just have to wait till class is over, so I can eat whatever's dying, I mean lying, around Sarah and Spencer's house. "
I will be paying for that gross underestimation of my Professor's capacity for cruelty tonight. I'm spending this Friday evening, a night usually reserved for screwing around with my comic books/books/movies/playing, desperately pulling a few of the remaining 15 pages I have yet to write of my final paper out of my butt. It's not a plesant thought. Let that be a lesson to you kids out there. Don't be stupid.
1 comment:
OK, OK so tell us how your final really went after dying a fate worse than death called procrastination
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