Would this have happened, were I a man?

I gave a quiz last week, and despite all my warnings, one student arrived just as the quizzes were being collected. Nonetheless, she wrote out the answer to the quiz question (which was up on the screen), and then thrust it into the TA's hand as class was dismissed.

When I explained that I could not accept this quiz, that it was a security breach because the quiz was closed book/notes, and she had been in possession of her quiz, with her open notes, for a full hour and a half, she was insulted. It wasn't fair, she said, she was only late, it wasn't like she'd missed the "whole quiz." (Right, just the first 19.9 minutes of a 20 minute quiz.) And to tell her that there had been a security breach with her quiz was a "slap in the face." No, I don't think so. What university does she attend, that students get to call the conditions on their quizzes and exams?

You can take a different quiz, I said, if you have a valid excuse for being late, but I will need documentation to put on file to protect myself against charges that I gave her an unfair advantage. "I was standing in line at the post office," she said.

She genuinely believed that I was being completely unreasonable! This discussion, somewhat loud and heated, took place at the front of the lecture hall in the moments before class began. After class, I told her that I could see no way I could allow her to make up the quiz, but that she had ample extra credit opportunities to earn back those lost points.

You can guess her response to this: "But then I don't get any extra credit!"

This is what I get for trying to be responsive to my students' concerns. Spoiled little brat.

My child is the cutest, brightest, sweetest child in the world.

Last night in the ice-cream parlor, she screamed through the plate-glass window at her father, seated outside, startling all customers, "I YUV YOU DADDY!"

Also screamed at top volume on a recent hay ride: "MOMMY, DOES DADDY HAVE A PENIS?"

Last night she also recited the entire alphabet for the first time. "A B C D E F G HJIKJKI L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Next time won't you say with me."

Heard when she wants to see something: "Can I hold it in mine teeny, teeny hand?"

Heard in the back seat of the car yesterday: "Harryhausen's? HARRYHAUSEN'S?"

I gave a quiz yesterday.

Of 117 students, these guys missed it:

Two took it yesterday so they could observe Yom Kippur. (Pats on the back for these two.)

One had a migraine and couldn't get out of bed.

One was bed-ridden for other reasons.

One's car broke down.

One works on the other side of campus and couldn't make it into the lecture hall until after the quiz was over.

One was just really, really late, but turned in a quiz anyway at the end of class, long after all the quizzes were collected. My email to her was answered with the following message, copied verbatim:

yes i was the one in late today and rtight when u were starting the notes i stopped writign so is not to miss any notes but i htought it unpoliete to walk out in front of u teaching to turn in my quiz how could we handle this. if i need ot write u on a dif. subject i am fine iwth that it is my fault for being late today

This must have been sent to me via cell phone, right? People don't really type/write this way, right?

LSU has a policy that all dispensations must be accompanied by acceptable documentation. Before I schedule a makeup quiz, I must have these documents. Right now, I have none.

I love these guys.

I think these are the coolest creatures. Ever since I was a child I've been fascinated by them. This isn't the greatest picture, but it was the best I could do in the dark. And their cousins are pretty darn tasty.

You've got to be kidding.

Dude, you are so hot.

However, I am older than your mother.

This body that you admire is held together only by the miracle that is Spandex. Let us bow our heads for a moment to give thanks to DuPont. It has seen four pregnancies and a caesarian section. I have stretch marks on parts of my anatomy that I bet you didn't even know could stretch. I sport a complete map of the Boston subway, worked in purple veins, on the backs of my thighs. I have not dyed my hair in interesting streaks of unnatural color: that is all-natural salt-and-pepper that you see. Those marks on my face are wrinkles, and that thing under my chin is called a wattle, which is only going to hang lower in years to come. That man over there, sitting on the deck of the hot tub, is my husband. He looks on my body with eyes blinded by love, seeing only the young, thin graduate student he met so many years ago.

The child with him is mine. Although she speaks in complete sentences and is almost potty trained, she is not yet weaned. She and I have given new meaning to the term "extended breastfeeding." I would probably be arrested in most states, including our own, if I were to give in to her demands to nurse right here and now. These breasts you keep staring at have been reduced to flat envelopes of skin, with nipples that point straight at my feet. Again, let us give thanks and praise to DuPont.

If your sole purpose in coming to the gym is to sport your wicked awesome tan and jiggle your perfect pectoral muscles at receptive booty, then for God's sake, wear your contact lenses in the hot tub. If you really do find professors who resemble your mother hot, then (all creepiness aside) you must get better lines. After two husbands, a string of lovers, and all the emotional detritus that builds up over nearly half a century of life, "Aren't you in my EE class?" and "What's your major?" come over as subtly as a fart in an elevator.

It is, however, my birthday today: one more mile-marker on the road to oblivion. I would rather believe that Angry Baker sent you into the hot tub to make me feel young again than that you could be so stupid.