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Fucking Psycho… My Professor (Small Seminar Class) Didn’t Ask About My Winter Break


Photo by Pxhere / CC0

There’s certain social obligations that one must fulfill in this University. For example, one should avoid controversy. Ted (audience engagement manager of UTB) disagrees with this. I (UTB MLM) do as well.

Anyways, my bitch professor like literally doesn’t care about my class. I put in so much work, mental preparation, and sentence structuring into my ice breaker and they literally don’t care if I die or not. Actually, I’m overreacting. They’re really sweet. I just wish they had asked about my winter break. The class is so intimate and we talked a lot about camaraderie and how we should lean on each other if need be, but how can I lean on those who do not know anything about my past? Do they even know that I got new clothes? Would they care if I told them? None of these answers will be provided to me because my professor’s a fucking psychopath. 

But maybe I shouldn’t judge them. As we are all well aware, Penn’s faculty are unified in the lack of unity within their pedagogical approaches; one day the readings matter, and the next day the attendance matter more than readings, and most days you don’t matter at all. If the plane that I took back to Philadelphia had its door blow out, would my professor even care? What if I had such a story to share? What if the plane meal was a cornucopia that rivals a dining hall’s? One that my professor’s lack of DECORUM robbed my classmates from enjoying retroactively and viscerally through my words? I could flee the country, start somewhere new, and yet my name would remain on the Canvas of this seminar, with no one to tell of how my break went.