mychildren excuses

Exams. They were nightmares when I was a student, and they are nightmares now. Sometimes I wonder if they are even necessary. Especially in art school. But government schools and colleges are strange, painful realms. However, I am glad I am in the middle of this vortex of nonsense. Atleast I can attempt to make sense of it all.

I used to want to run away but I am trying to be patient. For the greater good. Famous last words? I wouldn’t be surprised. Not one bit. But I am digressing (as always). Exam weeks are always hectic. It has been almost three years since I have been grinding my ass for the greater good and that means quite a few exam weeks. Exams involve making papers/exam assignments, invigilation, checking papers, juries/critiques (a whole lot of talking), discussion, mini thesis…very exciting stuff. And then comes the compilation and calculation of results. This ideally could be fun if everyone cooperates and does their job. However, this usually does not happen. Not easily anyway. So it really isn’t fun. Oh no. It’s actually torture.

At the beginning people don’t show up for their invigilation duties. This really does not work for me – it doesn’t work for anybody. Then people never give in their marks on time. Now that means I have to stick around forever, waiting, while other people make excuses about their sick children. And because I don’t have children and I didn’t give in to convention, I must suffer without electricity in a stuffy office – alone.

And then there is a particular lady who begins every sentence with “my children” and that just drives me nuts. Someday, I’ll just have to tell her that I really don’t give a shit but meanwhile, I can rant about it till I’m purple in the face. And I do wish somebody would slap her – real hard. There is a lot more to life about her selfish sense of motherhood. The students are a responsibility too. However, if I do imply such a thing to her, I get a condescending statement about how I wouldn’t know since I have no children. Yeah, I’m disabled. And I should do her job while she gets paid because “mychildren” need their mother. And “mychildren’s” mother likes to get paid while she does nothing at all. She is superior afterall. She completed her biological requirements and gave birth. It makes her special. This brings to mind an earlier post – this procreation business is really getting out of hand and children are becoming a pathetic excuse.

I wonder about these “mychildren” excuses.  And I hear the subtext and I wonder. I have decided to list some of the popular “mychildren” excuses:

  • My children had to be dropped to school (my children had to be dropped to school over and over and that’s why I am four hours late. They just get dropped to school once on other days).
  • My children are sick and near death (my children are near death often you see which is why I am four hours late and they have these near-death experiences a couple of times a week so I couldn’t take my class for 8 weeks which is half a term but that’s ok because atleast I have children while you have none so you’re a loser).
  • My children didn’t let me come to college today (my children are adorable and they make it possible for me to sit at home and earn anyway and you’re a loser because you actually have to work for money).
  • My children ate my marksheet/attendance sheet (my children are perfect even though they eat stationery and isn’t that great because then I don’t have to submit anything on time and who cares about the imperfect children in the world because my children eat anything I give them – bet they’d love to munch on paperclips).

I am running out of patience and things to say to them. Atleast I have the guts to admit to oversleeping when I am late. One fine day, I’ll just explode. That will be an end to my misery.

Note: Why do I care? Because I coordinate the department besides teaching. Life takes you to funny places.

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One response to “mychildren excuses

  1. Hahaha. God, those excuses have so many tones in there. Loved the post. Wish I were your student, honestly.

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