Letter to a College Professor

Dear Professor,

I'm tired. Could you please pipe down? I appreciate what you are trying to do and all but I just am not in the mood for this "learning" stuff right now. I have an incredible headache and It's really not getting any better with you yammering away up there. I'm nauseous. I just need a couple of hours to sleep this thing off and then I'll be good to go. It's really hard to get some shuteye while you keep on looking at me. Every time I feel you glance even near me I open my eyes. Can you like try to avoid looking over this way? It's very distracting. You know how when you stare at someone who isn't looking at you they always turn and look immediately right into your eyes? Well, that's what keeps on happening. Except I'm the one who feels you looking. It's really uncomfortable. I can't help but open my eyes, and every time I do there you are -- glancing. I can't look away because I got this flubby dirty rancid kid sitting next to me. He's got some sort of mold on his elbows and that's not helping my situation. I can feel his hefty heat flowing off of him messing it's way into my skin. It smells like vapor cabbage. I'm going to cease. Do these desks have to be so close together? Everywhere I turn there is another fuss glaring back at me. I don't know these people. I have never even sat this close to my mother. These aren't even desks. It's a slab of wood clamped to a torture chair. I've been more comfortable on an airplane with the table down about to be served a block of meatloaf and corn chips. How come I had a bigger desk when I was in elementary school? I was 4'2" doing math in an executive suite. We actually had to have days that we set aside to clean out our desks. I can remember pulling out sweatshirts, sandwiches, a large novelty pencil. Now I'm sitting at this thing that a baby uses to have tea parties with her infant friends. Can we get a cot in here? I'm all sore and somewhat rackety. I can't take all of the sniffling that goes on in here. You can't go more then twenty seconds without hearing an inslurp of wet nose. Try it. Why does everyone have a runny nose, constantly? Can you make it mandatory that everyone gives a good honk before coming into class? Maybe you can hold the tissue and everyone lines up and hurls a blow. This guy behind me even has a tissue but he's not blowing he's just wiping his leak at everyone flowing drip. Blow your nose. It's okay -- no one is going to think it's a wild boar. I'll tell you what's a bore -- you are with your yipping. I don't much care about Herbert Hoover, Harpo Marx or Wesley the Giant. What are you talking about? I seriously have to use the bathroom. Why can't anyone ever leave the room? I'm a grown person. I might spackle all over this guy here. I'll leave when I damn please. Last time I tried to get up you sucked. Take a chill tab and muster out. I'll be back. I'm just going to the bathroom. What do you think I'm doing? Getting the answers for the mid term? What did someone once do to make you so defensive about people leaving? Did they swish that hair carpet off your head and run out? I'm seriously going to crap. I got beer rumbles building up beyond belief. The girl in front of me thinks there's a ghoul at her back. Can this class be later in the day? Say, sometime at around, night? I was out so late. I was home for a total of nineteen minutes and six of them were spent dry screaming over a bucket and at the wall. I'm definitely still all swampy and my pants have crust. I've just crossed over the line of completely fazing you out. I don't hear you or see you anymore. It doesn't so much matter any longer if you onlook. I've reached my limit. My best advice to you would be to just let it flow. Don't attempt any form of discipline. It'll be like waking a sleepwalker. It won't be pretty and it will probably scare you more than it does me. Whatever I do, just ignore it from here on in. Next class is a different story but for the remainder of this one it is best to disregard me. I might start wizzling and fuzzling in my clampy wood board tea chair but look away and keep writing your formulas and dates on the overhead. If I'm still here when the class has ended take a textbook, preferably a really thick one and toss it up and run out of the room.



About the author:

Jon lives in Brooklyn with a scruffy dog named Herk. He has recently launched a T-shirt website called Elameno Tees. Check it out at www.elamenotees.com. His short film Santa Claus and the Jew is currently in production. He can be seen at some comedy clubs around the city saying weird things.