I Knew a Professor...

...who finally had enough of her lackluster, lackadaisical, generally suh-lacking students. One sunny day, the course readings were all about the horrors of lynching. The whiny students said, "It's such a nice day. Can't we have class outside? Let's have our discussion under that tree."

The professor, seeing her students had no ability to detect irony, said, "Sure!" She walked out of the classroom. She walked right by the tree. She walked directly off campus and all the way home.

How many students called out to the professor in confusion and protest? How many were confounded by her speed and her sudden deafness? And for how many blocks did the most dedicated among them try to follow her?

The professor strode up the stairs to her apartment. She didn't stop to collect her mail. She didn't even pause to pet Zooey, the hallway cat, on her way to the third-floor.

She snapped on the light, then snapped it off again. For once, the small, corner windows were enough to illuminate her dim space. She slid down the wall and sat, in pensive sprawl, on the floor by the doorway. She watched the windows until they turned black.