swimming through sick lullabies

I think my teacher hates me.

We were to critique a series of outdoor pieces. The assignment of myself and several others was to "activate the surrounding space". In the most basic terms possible, the piece's presence had to be larger than that of the space it occupied. The other half of the group had to change the scale of an object. The first piece was a large hairbrush. My opinion wasn't asked. The second was a four-foot red lollipop. In my critique, I gave it a B-, or as Adam and Morgan would say, a four...out of five.

"Jonathan, what are your reasons for giving this a lower mark than everyone else?"

Excuse me?!? You want extra justification simply because I have a different opinion? Do you hate me or something?

I fumbled through a shoddy explaination, but, truthfully, I was going on aesthetics alone. I wasn't a teacher. I didn't need to objetively evaluate another's work.

"Sorry, Jonathan, since you can't justify yourself, I'm not counting that."


I flipped her off behind my back, which worries me. I'm starting to do stuff like that more and more now.

Next piece.

"Jonathan, why do you give something like this a higher grade than everyone else?"


"I'm going to strike this one too."

Y'know, if I had some kind of persecution complex, I'd think she hated me. Oh wait: I do, and she does.

Then we got to my piece. Ccall me crazy, but I think ripping off pieces of the installation may have been a bit melodramatic. Was there nothing redeeming about the piece?

"But I like the idea."

Oh, well, one time pays for all, then.

She then called me lazy, and sent me to the library to look up Andre Calder0.

"That's cute. Really. As long as we're throwing names around, you're a witch who seems to dislike me, and by extension my work, through no fault of my own. This course serves little practical use pertaining to my chosen field, and I have difficulty believing that at some point you plan to perfom your job by instilling in your students skills through a process you may have dimly heard of, known as "teaching". I will now leave this course, and never return again, freeing up my Monday and Wednesday afternoons for something more productive than this which only qualifies teaching under the loosest possible defintion of the word found in the English language. Good day to you, madame, if indeed that is your title.1

+leaves with shocked gasps of admiration from his classmates and stunned silence from his lecturer+

Don't I wish.

Really, I don't see her as an authourity figure. More as a small shrill woman with a bad haircut, worse taste in clothes, and serious insecurity issues. Ahh. That felt good.2

0. It was actually Alexander Calder. When I Googled Andre Calder I kept getting helicopters.
1. This paragraph should not be taken seriously by anyone, and grammar be hanged.
2. This paragraph should not be taken seriously under any circumstances.

//choking on your alibis


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