When I was a little kid, I thought that my teachers spent their whole lives at the school. Some slept under their desks, others nestled into the pillows on the colorful corner rug. One time I saw a teacher outside of school, and I just couldn't believe my eyes.
I think teachers have secret meetings after school where they plot our demise. My professors magically match up the due dates on all of their assignments. Two midterms in one day, three papers due in one week, that sort of thing. Next week I have a presentation on Tuesday, midterm on Tuesday, and midterm on Wednesday. The presentation is supposed to be fifteen minutes about "The Perfume" by John Donne. I don't even know what will be on Tuesday's midterm, as of class today the teacher hadn't even created the test yet! Wednesday's exam is in my Intro to Art class. Yes, that's right. The class that has been canceled at least four times this semester. We are behind on the syllabus, and the teacher has no rhyme or reason to anything he teaches. The review sheet is five pages long with 200 slides that we have to memorize.
So I only have about a paragraph done on the presentation. I am unable to study for the first midterm, and haven't even cracked the book for the second one.
Oh, and I am leaving to go to Richmond, Virginia tomorrow at 6 pm for the entire weekend.
Why do I do these things to myself?!
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