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Wednesday Sep 22, 2004

Sep 22, 2004
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I've never claimed to be very smart; in fact I'm actually a big dumb idiot. To illustrate, here's a letter I sent to my prof not ten minutes ago.
------------------------------------

Sir,
My most sincere, humble, and embarassed apologies for missing class today. I will do my best to explain here, and I ask that you please hold all laughter and mockery until the end.

I arrived at room 332, as I had so many times before, five minutes before the stroke of ten. I sat down, and once again saw familiar faces in the room. As time grew closer, I heard whispers of a test. A test! And I had not even heard of it, nor had I studied. Failure knocked at the door, and in a rush I pulled out my notes and began to study what we'd gone over concerning the first amendment. "What about the case brief? Will it be delayed until Friday?" I wondered even as my eyes pored over case after case, trying to commit them quickly to memory.

The room started to fill up, and only vaguely was I aware that many of the students were unfamiliar to me. Hardly out of the ordinary, I supposed, since my lack of perception was precisely what was causing me to cram for the test I was about to take. And then I realized: I was without a scan-tron.

With but a few moments before class was to start, I implored Jessica, whom I was only barely familiar with, if she had an extra. She said she didn't, but directed me to the Natural Science Center on the second floor, where I could get one. I hurried on down, begged, signed away my soul in exchange for the bare parchment, and hurried back up. When I arrived, the class was indeed full of unfamiliar faces. But I didn't have time for that:

the proctor had arrived. Curses! Of course the professor was too professional to simply cancel class when he was sick, no, he had to get a proctor to administer the exam. I muttered under my breath and prepared for the inevitable, filing away my book and notes. The proctor made a passing joke about the irony of trying to cheat on a criminology exam, but I passed it off to either misunderstanding on my part, or error on his part.

However, as I received the test pamphlet and passed the rest on behind me, something -definitely- seemed awry. Criminology indeed; the test was on subject matter I was very unfamiliar with. OJ Simpson? Felony vs. Misdemeanor? I saw not a single case mentioned which was based on the Freedom of Speech. Indeed, I felt my own speech falter and fail as I struggled to understand what was happening.

Ahhh, of course. The professor was administering a make-up exam before the actual Con. Law course was to start. But as the minutes ticked on, that explanation failed to hold water. I looked around feverishly, but had to stop for fear of failing an exam I wasn't quite sure I was even supposed to be taking.

I cannot begin to recount the theories which cropped up and were just as quickly dispelled in my mind. My psych. course using me as a case study in an experiment. The entire class showing up in the wrong room. These and more wandered through my mind before I finally mustered the last of my resolve (and dignity) and walked up to the professor. I asked him if this was constitutional law, to which he replied (as I expected he would) "No, absolutely not." I asked him what time he had; he said "Ten o'clock," once again just as I suspected.

I thanked him for his time, told him I was obviously mistaken, and walked out. Even as I exited, I saw Jessica finishing her test and likewise departing, so I waited a moment in the corridor to ask her what had happened. And then I learned the awful truth:

class was at 9.

Not 10.

My embarassment and humiliation were of mythical, imbecillic proportions. The case brief I had been preparing to work up had, in fact, already taken place one hour before. I urgently asked her where your office was, but alas, you were not there. And as such, it is with a red face and no defense that I ask you forgive my absence, and allow me to make up the case brief. I was not told which one it was; I kept my ignorance just as intact as my stupidity. I humbly beseech you to consider my request, and worshipfully praise your kindness if you grant it.

If not... I will have to appeal to a higher court, citing as precedent a story that Jessica told me, in fact, to make me feel better. And that story, I dare say, is even better than this.

Thank you for your time, Sir.

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