Hello, Gentle Readers (and greetings to the clumsy among us, as well) – it’s fast approaching “Dads and Grads” season; time to contemplate the mystery of “why do they call it ‘Commencement’ when the ceremony marks the END of studies?” But I digress. Tonight’s story involves one of those soon-to-be graduates at a prestigious University:
The young man approached the Professor’s desk, as said educator was starting to read and grade the immense stack of term papers on his desk.
“Here’s my paper, Sir,” said the student.
“I’m sorry, young man. That paper was due yesterday, and I do NOT accept late submissions.”
“Well, excuse ME, Sir,” the student said, haughtily. “Do you know who I am?”
“No, I do not,” replied the prof.
“Good!” the student answered gleefully, as he hastily stuck his paper into the middle of the stack and beat a hasty retreat.
Hello, Gentle Readers (and greetings to the clumsy among us, as well) – it’s fast approaching “Dads and Grads” season; time to contemplate the mystery of “why do they call it ‘Commencement’ when the ceremony marks the END of studies?” But I digress. Tonight’s story involves one of those soon-to-be graduates at a prestigious University:
The young man approached the Professor’s desk, as said educator was starting to read and grade the immense stack of term papers on his desk.
“Here’s my paper, Sir,” said the student.
“I’m sorry, young man. That paper was due yesterday, and I do NOT accept late submissions.”
“Well, excuse ME, Sir,” the student said, haughtily. “Do you know who I am?”
“No, I do not,” replied the prof.
“Good!” the student answered gleefully, as he hastily stuck his paper into the middle of the stack and beat a hasty retreat.