Strange dreams #1

I have strange dreams. Last night I was a chalkboard looking out at a full classroom. The students were aimlessly tapping on hand screens—and the teacher was real late but when he showed up he was wearing overalls and smoking a pipe. I don’t know what the focus was, but there was a terrible lecture about something to do with society and then an essay exam about the future of corporate debauchery on the surface of the moon. The rules were simple but the professor had to explain three and a half times to the students they had to write about the topic for one hundred and twenty minutes, without so much as even picking up the ink for a second or two—and if they couldn’t write anymore they could wave a white flag that each of them was informed on the syllabus to buy before the semester began, but if they did this, they’d get the minimal passing grade (It was an Ivy league school so this was a big deal)—and the only way for the students to get an A, was to write nonstop until the two hour ticker went off, and when it did, only twenty percent of the students received an A on a test that will never be looked at.

 

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