After Final Exams

After final exams are finished, I calculate and submit the course grades.  Then I crack a beer, sit back, and prepare to enjoy myself.  Because the begging emails are coming.

Here are a couple from tonight:

Iam Ahmed Alkhaili from section 12:30.
Sir I was planing  to get an A, because I did my best on final exam.
If raise me to 80 I will aprocheat that.

Funny how he somehow finagled the letters c-h-e-a-t into the word "appreciate."

I'm student in your class ..
You give me c+ and I got in yor quizes good mark 
When I see it 77 I was surprised .. I do very well in last final essay eaxm 
Please I had a donation from police and I should get in GBA 2.5 please raise my mark to be (B) plaese plz .. 

Two observations.  First, these students are always surprised.  They're in a perpetual state of amazement.  They do D work, I pity them enough to bump them up to a C plus, and they are amazed that they didn't get an A.  The degree of delusion--or mental retardation--would be pathetic if it wasn't endlessly entertaining.

Second, based on this kid's email alone, I should flunk his ass.  He got one of the lowest scores in the class on the final exam.  In his mind, he "do [sic] very well."  And what kind of police station is going to donate money to a fucktard?  One in the UAE, apparently.  I pity his GBA.

You can see my class above.  The front of my room is at the bottom; the rear at the top.  Actually, because I didn't want to draw 40 heads, consider each head above to represent 3 1/3 students.

To get some sense of the abilities of my class, look at the mouths.  A closed mouth means a fairly intelligent student.  These people tend to occupy my first row.  Occasionally one can be found in the second row (see row 2, middle).

Then the mouths start opening (row 2, left end and right end).  These guys can survive in society.  They remember to breathe.  Their hearts are powered by instinct, so they get no credit for that.  But all in all, they aren't bad.  

In the back half of class, I have my mouth breathers.  I have really learned to appreciate the education that I got in the first world.  You know, the kind that inspires critical thinking and creativity in addition to the basic stuff that we have to memorize.  That sort of education really changed the way a first-worlder's brain works.

These kids use logic like monkeys humping a greased doorknob.  It's messy.  It's spastic.  It's pretty funny.

And the best part is if they're Emirati--and most of them are--they could very easily be my boss as soon as they graduate.

But not today!  Today I fucking owned their asses.  They were trying to cheat up a storm, until one of the fucktards in the back rows handed in his test early and left.  Up until that point, there had been endless whispering and roving eyes.  I looked at the empty seat, and it hit me.  I could solve them like a four-piece jigsaw puzzle.

I walked over to the seat, sat down, and turned myself to face the entire room.  There wasn't a single student out of the reach of my periphery vision.  The students in the front row were the furthest, but what did I have to worry about them?  They were all getting As.  Also, I had the benefit of being near the whisperers.  Slowly, a realization dawned on them.  If they were poker players, the realization would have been that I had position on them.  I had the fucking button.  If they were chess players, it would have been that I had the white pieces . . . and I got to start the game by moving twice.

There was nothing they could do.  I was right next to them.  They were helpless.  If they raised, I'd three-bet their monkey assses with J6 offsuit, and they'd have to fold.  Because they don't know how to play poker.

If you haven't guessed by now, cheating is sort of normal here.  Rampant.  To someone who went to school in the States, it really rubs me the wrong way.  The sort of shit they pull on me would get their asses expelled in any first-world university.  When I tell them that, they look baffled.

Why can't we help each other? they must wonder.

Well, not today, fucktards.  Today you got soul-owned.  If you had a better education growing up, maybe you'd have developed the critical thinking required to work out a counter-strategy . . . like studying.

Today was a good day.