Tainted clam chowder
Abiding this class by the hour
Feels like I’ve been here for days.
I’m crumpled and sour, grumpy and dour,
Waiting to break out of the haze
Your braid is too long, a deadened kind of blonde,
I wonder if the split ends clog your brain.
But that fringy mop you sport up top could never detract from your “fish out of water” claims.
Voice like a dying cat in the night,
Birds startle and then take flight
Trying so hard to switch on the light,
A riveting anecdote. Again.
Your lectures land like a gecko running over sand: nothing sinks in.
Looking over your metaphorical shoulder
Into a sea of letdown students now and past,
I only hope your tenure lasts,
As you’re not getting by on talent.
I should send this to the school instead of a review for this particular professor. She’s truly the pits.