Small victory

Dealing with whiny adolescent girls stinks. That is by far the worst part of my job. They mope into the room, slink into their desks, and instantly begin complaining. If it’s not the weekend, it’s their boyfriend(s). If it’s not the journal topic, it’s the assignment. So by Thursday of each week, I’ve had it with their complaints.

I teach an advanced comp course. There is a particularly whinny student in it. S/he also complains about everything. Drives me nuts. On this particular day, s/he was in no mood to do anything, which makes me wonder why s/he would enroll in a college comp course anyway, but you can ask our counselors that one. I drew her/his ire immediately for -- imagine this -- having her/him do work. While they were defining some literary terms I had written up on the board, I was busy returning their essays and other work. S/he immediately began whining how I didn’t return one of her/his worksheets. I replied that s/he must have not turned it in -- that’s another of my pet peeves, kids who THINK they turned it in and blame me for it only to find it right in their notebooks -- and I never get an apology -- it’s like it’s my fault they didn’t turn it in. I checked my grade book and, sure enough, no score. So I reiterated that s/he must not have turned it in. S/he steadfastly said s/he did and was becoming snotty. Another student even vouched for her/him. So I knew it must have been turned it, yet I knew I didn't lose it. Just then I happened to look up at my bulletin board. I saw a worksheet up their with a giant question marked that I had scrawled in the upper right hand corner where a name should have been.

By now s/he has passed whining into full on obnoxious. So I calmly said, “Hey, Einstein,” nodding up at the bulletin board, “Is that your worksheet up there.”

Sure enough it was.

S/he glared and I gleamed.