dichotomy

by Miss What's-Your-Name-Again?

Dear Student,

The other day, you asked me what a “dichotomy” was, and if it was “When they cut out part of your brain like in horror movies.”  That’s a lobotomy.  I have two things to apologize for:

1. I am so sorry that I began my definition with, “It’s that thing where…”

2. I am also so sorry that when you asked me about the book I was reading, Born To Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen, I told you it was great.  Truthfully, I have never read that book.  I assume it’s about running, but who knows.

Here’s a dichotomy for you.  As I was sitting at that desk, explaining my running book to you, I was actually reading a book entitled Get The Guy: Learn Secrets of the Male Mind to Find the Man You Want and the Love You Deserve.  But as you may or may not know, you can be pretty fucking brutal about that stuff so I swapped the cover with another book so none of you could give me any shit.  How’s that?  Here’s another one.  When you and your idiot friend snuck out of the room while I wasn’t paying attention (I was probably busy reading my dating book,) guess who got busted by the old, cranky french teacher across the hall?  Moi.  And although I was pissed as fuck at you all, when that old bitchy lady came into the room and patronizingly instructed me to “Not let anyone else out of the classroom” because you’re all lying to me because I’m the sub and she’s doing really important work next door that shouldn’t be interrupted because I can’t control my class… I DEFENDED you.  I told her that I had, in fact, given you permission to leave, that I “Wanted to honor you with the benefit of the doubt,” when you told me you needed to go next door and that she wouldn’t mind if you did.  I then added, sweetly, “I find that when I am at a new school with little to no information about how things are run, I really have no choice but to do so.”

Cause guess what?  You know that bitchy old french teacher?  You know how stupid and angry and indignant she makes you feel by insisting on treating you like some kind of feral human subspecies?  Well, you will always feel that way about her.  I feel that way about her too.  And it felt so fucking good to annoy the shit out of her.

Cheers,

Miss What’s-Your-Name-Again?

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