
Not all the time, as a college student, you get the opportunity or the time to go back and write a letter or express how you really feel about a professor and the way they chose to treat you in their class. So, I’ve taken the time out to do just that, in story form. So, lets start from the beginning. Spring semester of 2008, the worst semester of my life…
It all started when I enrolled in a writing class that I necessarily didn’t have to take. But I took it because I thought that it would better prepare me for the field that I was getting into and it would further enhance the scope of my writing style. I also thought that it would be an easy course because I’m usually very good at anything that involves writing and/or editing. So, first day of classes finally roll around. I get there and upon entering the room, all of my excitement left me in a moment’s time. As I looked at the little old woman, my professor, at the front of the class room I realized that this class was going to be very challenging. Although I felt very uneasy, I did my best to push those feelings aside and just blame it all on the anxiety of knowing that I was going to have to endure another rough semester.
Come to find out, this little old lady created this rule that you cannot even begin to write a paper without her approving your idea first. So, I submitted idea after idea after idea and this woman wouldn’t budge. I began to see her after every class to sit and talk to her as to why she hasn’t approved any of my ideas. When that didn’t work, I started making additional appointments to sit with her at her office hours. Then, out of desperation, I began asking friends and family to see if they can help me perfect my ideas. FINALLY, two months passed and I got ONE idea approved. I had to find sources and write about suicide. So, I did what I needed to do to produce a first draft. It was critiqued by the class and returned to me. But by this time, I was already two assignments behind in course work and needed to finish the first one that I started.
Throughout all of this, the grand idea to drop the course did cross my mind. But I decided against it and allowed the time I had to drop the course to slip through my fingers. I chose to suffer through it. I mean, I’ve been able to pull myself through quite a few tough classes before and receive a passing grade. So, why couldn’t I do the same for this one? “You can do it,” I said. “You can still pass this class,” I said. “There is still enough time to catch up,” I said. “You can press your way through it,” I said. But although I was putting in this extra personal time, taking the time to speak with the professor every time we had class, and scheduling meetings at her office hours, things still went from bad to worse.
After all that I’ve been through with this woman, I finally began to realize that the issue wasn’t me. I was not the problem why I could not progress forward in this class because I took all the necessary steps that any responsible student would have taken in my position. I was not the problem. It was. This little old lady, wasn’t just a little old lady in my eyes anymore. She was a Beast. An evil beastly woman that, for some reason, had something against me and the students in this class. I was not the only one to complain about The Beast. She has been the source of evil for a lot of students, too bad I didn’t know about this sooner. Here I am spending $300 per credit for this 3 credit course and this wo… I mean, Beast… had the nerve to take my money, treat me like crap, cause me to be behind in my work and then fail me on top of it all. Isn’t the reason why you fail someone is because they either did no work, or showed no significant effort in doing the work? This wasn’t a class where there were right and wrong answers. By the end of this semester, I felt cheated, mistreated, discouraged, and stupid. The Beast showed no interest in at least convincing anyone to believe that she wanted anyone to pass this class. Everything was vague and out of order. She always had an attitude and barely smiled. In my opinion, it was almost like she wanted everyone around her to die.
If I had the to opportunity to speak with The Beast ever again, my final words would be:
You… you have successfully managed to create a hell on earth for someone just by them simply being in your presence. You… you are like a third degree burn. Instantaneously, you begin to eat away at a person’s hope and dream for their future. Once the damage is done, the scars you leave behind take forever to heal. After interacting with you, that person will NEVER be the same. You chose to work in a place where people are in need of encouragement, some support from their family, as well as the outside world. College is supposed to be that tunnel that leads you to a light. It is considered the last step before a person rightfully takes their rite-of-passage into the corporate world. You chose to work in a place like this so you can plant your destruction. Although you made it so that I would fail your class, I did learn at least one thing…. and that is how not to become an evil, old, beastly fart like you. Thanks.
-KM
Ps- Yeah, you see that picture up there? You know, the one at the beginning of this entry? Yup… That’s her.