More About Guy Who Swears A Lot
I hesitated on posting this, because it could be identifying information--I hope there aren't two people this dumb in the world. But there probably are, so here goes. I told you, oh Blog-o-delic-blog, about Guy Who Swears A Lot. He doesn't just waste his tuition money to spite his teachers, he does the same with actual physical purchases. He told a story in class one day (also interrupting a perfectly good lesson) about how the car dealership wouldn't sell him the car he wanted--his credit wasn't good enough to finance it, so he had to get something slightly cheaper than what he had in mind. In order to get back at the car dealership, he went out and wrecked the car after he'd had it two weeks.
That'll show 'em. His insurance went up, plus he has no car (which means he can't make it to my class as often, which is a tragedy for the rest of us). I'm sure the dealership is very sorry they wouldn't sell him what he wanted.
Oh, and here's one more. I had this student, who came to class on the first day with no textbook. He told a fairly standard tale of woe about how his financial aid was messed up, so he was unable to buy his textbook. (A student in the next row pointed out that she had had a similar problem, but the school gave her a voucher to get her books and have the cost deducted when her aid finally did some in. I should have listened to that.) Since it was the first day, I was not yet quite as pissed off as I usually am, so I decided to let him use one of my spare copies for a day or two. (We get new desk copies every semester, usually both a teacher's edition and a student edition, unless we specify that we don't need'em. I usually forget, so I have a lot of textbooks sitting around. But not enough to give one to every student who would prefer not to buy one.) Most of the people who attend BCCC are poor, and textbooks are expensive.
Well, weeks went by, and I pondered whether to embarass the student by asking when he was going to buy his own damn book. Finally I nerved up and asked, and of course he was not embarassed. He claimed his aid had still not come in, but he'd get his own book next week. Okey-dokey, I responded. The next week, I asked again. Still no aid, no book. "You need to buy a book," I said firmly. He began explaining why that was impossible. "I don't care what the reasons are," I answered. "Everyone else managed to buy a book. I want mine back next class." Next class, he gave me my book back, and sat there with no book, looking pitiful. He did manage to participate fairly well, even when we were doing exercises out of the book--probably run-on sentences or something like that, I forget. (I have to admit I found that fairly impressive. Most of my students can barely follow along if they do have the book in front of them.) When I asked about his book, he claimed to have his own at home. "Bring it next time," I said. Next time? He was back to his no aid/no book story. I remained firm, telling him that since the semester was now 2/3 of the way over, he'd had more than enough time to find some way to get a book, and I expected him to do so.
Later, I consulted some other teachers about this problem, and was reminded that if he really hadn't gotten his aid, he would have been dropped from my class for nonpayment. However, if I was still worried about this poor young man not being able to do his homework if I didn't provide a book, I should inform him that he can use a book at the tutoring center or the library. Okay, I thought. If he does that, I'll let him use one of my books during class time, but not take it home. A wise, Solomon-like decision, that balances my buddha-like compassion with my drive not to be taken for a schmuck.
Student? Never came to class again.
ProfessorDog? Schmuck. The whole time this student was in the class, he seemed to expect special treatment--to be allowed to interrupt the lesson with things that weren't relevant (such as telling me he had to leave the room because his "man-vagina" was itchy. I don't know exactly what that means, but I'm reasonably sure it's a part of his body I don't want to know anything about), to talk to himself during quizzes, and to call out the first answer to every question, even though he wasn't the only one in the room. Maybe he'd have done it anyway, but I wonder if I aggravated his natural sense of entitlement by lending him the book that everyone else had to buy.
That'll show 'em. His insurance went up, plus he has no car (which means he can't make it to my class as often, which is a tragedy for the rest of us). I'm sure the dealership is very sorry they wouldn't sell him what he wanted.
Oh, and here's one more. I had this student, who came to class on the first day with no textbook. He told a fairly standard tale of woe about how his financial aid was messed up, so he was unable to buy his textbook. (A student in the next row pointed out that she had had a similar problem, but the school gave her a voucher to get her books and have the cost deducted when her aid finally did some in. I should have listened to that.) Since it was the first day, I was not yet quite as pissed off as I usually am, so I decided to let him use one of my spare copies for a day or two. (We get new desk copies every semester, usually both a teacher's edition and a student edition, unless we specify that we don't need'em. I usually forget, so I have a lot of textbooks sitting around. But not enough to give one to every student who would prefer not to buy one.) Most of the people who attend BCCC are poor, and textbooks are expensive.
Well, weeks went by, and I pondered whether to embarass the student by asking when he was going to buy his own damn book. Finally I nerved up and asked, and of course he was not embarassed. He claimed his aid had still not come in, but he'd get his own book next week. Okey-dokey, I responded. The next week, I asked again. Still no aid, no book. "You need to buy a book," I said firmly. He began explaining why that was impossible. "I don't care what the reasons are," I answered. "Everyone else managed to buy a book. I want mine back next class." Next class, he gave me my book back, and sat there with no book, looking pitiful. He did manage to participate fairly well, even when we were doing exercises out of the book--probably run-on sentences or something like that, I forget. (I have to admit I found that fairly impressive. Most of my students can barely follow along if they do have the book in front of them.) When I asked about his book, he claimed to have his own at home. "Bring it next time," I said. Next time? He was back to his no aid/no book story. I remained firm, telling him that since the semester was now 2/3 of the way over, he'd had more than enough time to find some way to get a book, and I expected him to do so.
Later, I consulted some other teachers about this problem, and was reminded that if he really hadn't gotten his aid, he would have been dropped from my class for nonpayment. However, if I was still worried about this poor young man not being able to do his homework if I didn't provide a book, I should inform him that he can use a book at the tutoring center or the library. Okay, I thought. If he does that, I'll let him use one of my books during class time, but not take it home. A wise, Solomon-like decision, that balances my buddha-like compassion with my drive not to be taken for a schmuck.
Student? Never came to class again.
ProfessorDog? Schmuck. The whole time this student was in the class, he seemed to expect special treatment--to be allowed to interrupt the lesson with things that weren't relevant (such as telling me he had to leave the room because his "man-vagina" was itchy. I don't know exactly what that means, but I'm reasonably sure it's a part of his body I don't want to know anything about), to talk to himself during quizzes, and to call out the first answer to every question, even though he wasn't the only one in the room. Maybe he'd have done it anyway, but I wonder if I aggravated his natural sense of entitlement by lending him the book that everyone else had to buy.
posted by ProfessorDog at 2:58 AM
3 Comments:
If he called it "man vagina" in MY class, he would have been kicked out for the day and lost participation points. I had one of those, "My aid didn't come in, so I couldn't buy the book" sob stories, too. College . . . it's the new high school. Thanks for linking to me and thanks for stopping by my place!
Thanks for the compliment -- use anything I've put out here if it helps.
I've wondered what happened to my students who go on to community college -- apparently you teach'em. I recognize the guys you write about. lord help us both!
Ummm, don't be so hard on yourself. He was enabled at this kind of tripe looong before he tried to game you.
Thing is, YOU'VE learned something. Him? Not so much.
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