We find our cliff as we tumble over it at approximately 6:35pm each class. Tonight the tipping point is illuminated in the following moment:
SETTING: Critiquing of student poem concerning the deforestation of the Brazilian rainforests.
EXCHANGE:
A: Normally, I don’t think about cows fucking. They are normally just standing there.
B: Actually, cows really put out only about once a month. So there is a lot of homosexuality amongst the bulls.
Class: (a moment of silence interrupted by)
Me: Wow. 6:37. I really thought this time we were going to make it.
Palm Sweating, Eyes Darting Prof: Anything at all to say about the poem, people?!
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Stay tuned, Lovely Readers, for next week’s Season Finale (fingers crossed, and not just because of the sudden onset of carpal tunnel from thesis typing):
The Last Class of Graduate School
Our professor already warned us not to bring hard alcohol. Not even vodka in water bottles. Hmmm... has he been talking to my students?
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