Life in the Classroom

Remember the class with the atheist, the two Christians, and the pagan? (Sounds like the beginning of a joke.) Well, the pagan has dropped the class because of scheduling problems, the atheist has turned out to be an excellent writer, and there's a new horror in town.

Let's call him Flapjaw.

I'm going to just come out and tell you that I am so sick of Flapjaw's constant jabber in class that I am about to lose my shit. Not only does he feel compelled to comment on every single thing I say when I'm teaching, he wishes to answer each and every question I ask, and then he rambles off into so many tangents that if you tried to keep up with them, you would end up ramming your head up your own rectum, and face-butting your lungs like Herve Villechaize motorboating Nell Carter.

I have not "handled" Flapjaw yet. I will absolutely have to do this when that class resumes next Thursday. (Labor Day weekend means Monday off, and I've cancelled Tuesday's class. It meets T/Th.) I wasn't sure until today that Flapjaw was going to be such a nefarious presence in the classroom. Sure, he rambled during the previous class, but he raised his hand so I could at least reluctantly call on him when no one else would speak. But now he has tossed aside the ritual of the raised hand in favor of his own impromptu verbal stream of diarrhea. His favorite topics: his time in military school (what a surprise), his adventures working the front desk at some crappy we-just-need-an-hour motel, his time in military school, books he's read and found fascinating enough to attempt to recap the entire plots, oh, and his time in military school.

Wait, I forgot. One of his immersions into mental quicksand today was all about how "hotheaded religious people get when they argue." It was all wrapped into the smugness of an idiotic, pretentious, truly uninformed college student who would be better served if he were shackled into a dungeon and made to eat rat assholes for every meal. I stopped him just before I snapped and jumped across the big table we all sit gathered around. I have to admit that in my heart, my hands were already around his freckly neck and his too-large forehead was being pounded into the table like a jackhammer.

I will get you, Flapjaw. You've had 2 days of grace. No more. I can't believe I put up with this bullshit for two class periods. I was simply so stunned by your social ineptness that I couldn't speak. It was like watching a baby chick hatch. Look! Look at the miracle that is Flapjaw!