Mini Post About Nothing #12: You’re an Old Fart, Art

I swear, I’m  going to slap my art professor one of these days. I’m going to lose my temper, stand up in the middle of her lecture, walk to the front of the class, slap her across the face, and walk out. Nasty little woman.

Aside from the fact that it is literally the longest class period of my life (she has to lecture the whole time even if she’s out of topics to talk about). She just yammers on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on.

Today she yelled at the girl next to me. Why? There was no legitimate reason. The girl asked a question–a good question, not a stupid one–and in response, the evil-cat lady-professor yelled at her. What?…What?…What are you doing with your life?

Sorry if this post is kind of ranty, I just can’t get over how much I want to hit her. I’m sure you have (or have had) at least one teacher/professor in your life that is like this. This is the first one that I’ve ever had where I’m sitting there watching her, thinking: wow, you are just a really bad human being.

Then I start to wonder what her mother is like. Studies suggest– (and maybe I’m making this up in my head, but I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure I vaguely remember this from the eight grade. Maybe not.) –that children, even when separated at birth from their families, reflect some of the personality traits of their parents. This is the whole nature vs. nurture argument, but anyway, I got to wondering if her mother is worse. Then I thought: no, because I feel like the only thing that could be worse is if she started to breathe fire, and I don’t recall dragons being a real thing.

Oh. Burn. (Pun intended).

Mel

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