Then it turns out that certain other former students are, apparently, convinced that I hate them. And really, I don't. I never did. There's too little time in one's life to spend hating anyone, least of all former students whom I last encountered when they were still legally not allowed to drink and I was supposed to whip their writing skills into shape.
In fact, the worst that can happen is that I'll have nothing to say to them, not because I don't want to speak to them, but because there are always just some people in the world that one meets and just doesn't have anything to say to, and it's absolutely nothing personal, just one of those mysteries of human relationships.
Well.
In other ongoing mysteries, it turns out that when panaphobic left her cigarettes at our place tonight, she was also too lazy to come up again to get them, so she called me from downstairs to say can I please toss them out the window and she'll catch them.
I live on the eleventh floor.
I tossed the cigarettes. She yelled up, loud enough for me to hear through a closed window, "Got it!"
Labels: Once a teacher
8 Comments:
aww, it's okay. i don't hate you either.
except maybe for that one time you wrote in 'SO WHAT?' in RED INK all over my essay.
and that other time when you made us read jane eyre. and hedda gabler.
and everytime you referenced buffy the vampire slayer.
*snigger*
also surreal when terz started telling us about biker bars and recommending tattoo designers. you looked a little alarmed.
agreed on jane eyre though. earghhhh!
Aiyo ... like that already hate ah? Then clearly I am doomed to be hated than to do any hating!
yah the biker bar was great, looked like it was there in the 80s when firehouse was actually still in the charts and bon jovi were cool.
i don't remember no buffy references. i might have been sleeping, or absent.
i have no complaints about hedda, but jane eyre got on my nerves. the worst thing was the scarlet letter though. still remember this class "discussion" about whether hawthorne was being loftily obscure or maybe he was just a shit writer. i go with the latter.
how come you got all the poo books and mr p. got the cracking ones? did you draw lots? cos i think someone fixed the results.
interested people might like to know that the word verification thing today is ptaokpk, which is like a potato tau pok.
sigh... damn chorlor that girl... try to teach her poise and manners also go in one ear and out the other
yeah! she's back!
but seriously, what's with all the jane eyre hating?
I resent being called 'lazy' when I am simply exercising well-learnt lessons in adaptability and efficiency.
Clearly, living for 23 years in a HDB flat on the 9th floor has its effects.
(nardac: she was whiny.)
but getting annoyed at a character shouldn't take away from the overall beauty of the novel. Anyways, I didn't think she was whiny. Just mousy.
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