Brightest Bulb in the Crayon Box

My morning class is an English Composition class that I am so going to ace with glitter and gold stars. The most complicated thing we have to do is write essays as homework and write in a journal at least 3 times a week. (I thought about just writing down my blog address and telling the prof she could sign up for my updates, but then I couldn’t talk about her here so I changed my devious little mind.)

Yesterday, about half the class flocked around me at the end and asked me if I’d help them with their writing, to be like the study group leader or something.

I'm a jeanyus...

Huh?

Apparently, nobody ever taught them the key to writing an essay — which I learned in high school and would’ve thought this prof would teach us eventually — and they knew I was getting As on everything. I’m now leading a little “stuff your prof is too lazy to teach you” session in the library this afternoon.

We’ll be on the opposite side from Jazz so I can maintain an appearance of being an intelligent human being instead of eye-bleeping the man every few seconds as usually happens.