My students hump the midterm. It wasn't just bad, it was historically bad. An epic humping. Two-thirds of the class got below 50 percent.

They don't look at their phones like you think they would be, rather they sit across the table from each other, holding hands, leaning in with their faces close and stare at each other as they chat.

There is no way I can be mistaken for a grad student, so if he has looked at me, it can only be a challenge.

"Has anyone seen my bullets?" she asks.

Damn corporate agreements that deliberately try to force people to upgrade their phones.

A woman that hangs out with Professor Suh is throwing books at me. It's a real shittangle.

He's getting too arrogant. Let's let him go on speaking like an idiot. Let him be corrected one day in front of a jeering crowd of his peers.

I shouldn't yawn, it isn't polite, and I am concentrating on that, but it is easier to concentrate on that if I rest my head on the back of the chair. I start to slouch in my seat.