College kids are strange. All the dudes look like 50 Cent's hangers-on or a Jonas Brothers cover band auditioning for a remake of Pretty In Pink -- upturned collars and little alligators? I honestly had no clue they still made these shirts. I remember wearing some once, when I was seven -- and all the chicks look like extras in a Britney Spears video -- shut the hell up, I'm allowed moments of curmudgeonry, and so are you, so drop the eye rolling. Crap, my black socks just dropped. No wonder it's square peg and round hole with you whipper snappers.
Dig my swanky duds. If I had a lawn down here, I'd tell you to get off it. And next time, I'm keeping the fucking
hacky sack cell phone. Doesn't anyone listen to music anymore? You really want to talk to other people all the time?
Boy, I'd love it if everyone's phone simultaneously cut out for a lousy five minutes. There'd be a riot and I would laugh loud and often. Until I got trampled. Anyway, after having the brain reside in sleep mode for a good portion of the summer, educationally speaking, here's what else I discovered both on my way to, and inside, the classroom yesterday afternoon.
1. I am abysmally poor at spoken French -- let's not even mention listening comprehension -- on an epic scale not seen since The Iliad. Probably doesn't help that the only skilled person I can practice with speaks my language with far more ability than I can speak hers and lives a few time zones away. Maybe I need one of those cellular telephone doodads. I think she takes pity on me. Or is having sadistic fun, I'm not quite sure.
2. On the flip side, my prof is appreciative of my efforts to actually participate. Hey, it's the only way to keep the grade from sliding into Bush territory outside of cash bribes and no one is taking dollars these days.
3. I am glad that this is an upper level class and not 101, as I'm certainly not old enough to be the parents of these particular students. Yet.
4. For the eleventh class in a row -- thus proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that French is the language of choice for the discerning linguistic connoisseur -- the male/female ratio is positive for yours truly.
"What's your point, couch jockey?"
Merely making a sociological observation, my sweet, such as the following:
5. I pity the clowns who drive instead of taking public transportation. Good luck finding a spot after having missed your first two classes. I'd tell you that lots B through Z are closed for construction, but you probably figured that out the 73rd time you circled the campus.
"But we have a future --
--whereas you don't."
Not if Johnny Mac blows everything up.
Personnes âgées 1, jeunesse idéaliste 0.